This weekend I am going to a party. Friends (a married couple) are having an open house to show off their newly-remodeled house. Here is what goes through my head as a single person attending a party by myself.
Steve and Susie are great biking friends of mine. They are fun and I’m looking forward to seeing them and their new house. However, I only know them and a couple of Steve’s bike friends, whom I’ve also occasionally ridden with. I don’t know his friends’ wives. I don’t know any of Steve and Susie’s other friends. As a solo attendee, I feel awkward having to “work the room” making small talk. I want a wing man! There is the excitement of going, yet the dread of not knowing anyone. As an intermittent extrovert, parties make me swing to the introvert spectrum.
But then I think about if I actually had a wing man. Yes, I would have someone to fall back on and talk to, but wouldn’t meet as many new people. I would also have to introduce him, which brings the panic of me being horrible at remembering names.
Prior to one of my high school reunions, I had similar feelings of angst. My high school friends I saw regularly refused to attend. I was adamant to go. As I walked into the venue, I prayed, “Lord, please help me to have a good time.” I had a blast. I was free to roam as I pleased. At dinner I sat next to a volleyball teammate and her husband, and our legendary former janitor. All was ok.
This party is not on a reunion level, but I still feel some trepidation. And for the record, I would still rather have a wing-man/partner in crime. Until that happens, I’ll do what I always do - put my big girl pants on, hold my head high and say a silent prayer to have a good time.
Let’s get this party started.