Writing 101 asks us to talk about our fears. I adressed my biggest fear: Parties.
I look at the mirror. From the other side, a weird-looking me atempts to smile, to no avail. I see the long straighted brown hair, the light brown skin on my face has a few layers of make-up, I see the black dress I’m wearing. I can not smile. All I can think about now is whether I’m well suited for the big party I’m about to go. I think I am – the dress and the make-up are those things society expects girls to wear. So, I’m all good, aren’t I?
I don’t feel well — the dress, the make-up, the hair… I feel awkward. No one cares.
I set everything up, enter the car. I prepare myself mentally — there will be loud music, people dancing, food, drinks. I must smile, say hello, sit down, try to eat something, drink something, talk a bit and wait for the time to go back to the hotel. That’s it. No secrets.
As the car flies across the city, I try to pay attention to the beautiful buildings all lit up at night. I remember I will be sleepy in a couple of hours, before everyone else. And at a party, things can get rough if that happens. We’re getting closer.
The car stops.
I look around, see the other guests getting out of their cars as well, everyone dressed up. I wonder how the other women can walk with those heels. I could never wear them, I suppose. The cold wind blows in my face. I can hear the loud music from where I am and my heart starts beating fast. I want to go home. I must go home!
But I’m trapped. I have to enter.
I walk towards the club, start sweating. I see someone I know. What do I do? Do I hug them? Shake hands? Just say hello?
I say hello, they hug me. I go for a hug, they shake hands. I get to the obvious conclusion I can not read people. The place is full of people, unfortunately. Where’s my table? Where. Is. My. Table?
Oh, more known people. Hug, hands, hands, hug. Some kisses. “You look nice” “You too” “How’s university?” “Good, good”
“Have you been seeing anyone lately?”, they ask everyone else but me. I know the reason they do this, tough I can’t talk about this now. In fact, it’s not just one reason. Maybe I’m too weird to date anyone. Maybe I study so much I’m not interested in relationships. Or maybe… I better not talk about that now.
I find my table, I sit and notice that since I entered, my vision got blurred for some reason. Everything bothers me, I can’t eat or drink, what if there’s someone looking at me and I spill a bit? Are they looking at me? Are. They. Looking. At. Me?
I’m getting frozen — can’t move, differently from the 99% of the others, who are dancing happily. I could never dance. Not in public. How much time have I spent here?
How much time do I have to stay? I better not think of that. It’s getting more blurred, oh my! I can’t speak. I want to go home. There’s too many people here, too many! And they’re all looking at me, judging me! I close my eyes, It doesn’t help. Why did I agree to come? Why do people feel so happy in these situations — crowd, loud shitty music, alcohol? It doesn’t seem fun to me at all. It never did. This dress and the make-up are not helping, let me tell you.
People are getting drunk. It’s funny and sad to witness. Funny because drunk people do non-sense stuff. Sad for the same reason. Why would someone choose that? I could never know.
Finally, time to go to the hotel! I try to say goodbye to people, but most of them are drunk. So no hugs, hands, hands, hugs. Thank God.
The car looks like a golden carriage to me. I enter with my heart full of relief, thinking about my quiet, empty hotel room.