Social retardation. Where our heroine has it.
Hello, my name is Erin, and I have social anxiety.
So, we had a flatwarming party last night. Mainly to welcome Matt and Dennis, our other flattie, and to celebrate Matt and I taking the "next step", as it were. And, well, usually I adore the odd house party. Definitely my number one choice over a night in town- no sticky floors, or dodgy bathrooms, or terrible 80s party tunes, or girls trying to pull off their best Britney outfitts, or as many blokes thronging around trying to cop a feel. A couple of years ago, I gained the reputation among my mates as the host of several epic costume parties, plus the odd slightly-drunken dessert night. I've been to some awesome parties lately, including Matt's birthday drinks and my old flattie Bila's birthday party, where we played the chocolate game and pass the parcel! Good times.
Last night, however, was quite hard. Slightly more people than what we anticipated showed up. Which, y'know, is a good thing. Between the three of us, we have a lot of friends. And, I'm sure a few of you remember me angsting a fair bit back in the day about how hard it was to get people to show up to my dress-up dos when we lived further out in the suburbs. But, last night I was phemonenally happy and relieved that several of my mates couldn't make it, and that a fair few people piked.
To be honest, I found it overwhelming. Having that many people in our lounge room that is. It was even a little frightening at times. Usually, when I'm hosting a party, I get a little stressed out at first, trying to look out for everyone and make sure all the guests are having a reasonably OK time. Then, I kick back, get tiddly, and have a blast. But, last night was a little terrifying. I just felt...hemmed in. And, there were moments there when I felt like sprinting into my bedroom, and screaming into a pillow until it all went away. I was almost in tears several times...and, while I love almost everyone who was in that room very dearly, I had several points when I couldn't wait for people to just to clear the hell out. And, dear Lord, I sound like such a bitch for saying that. :(
So yeah. Not pretty. Eventually, I relaxed and calmed down, and mixed and mingled, and had some perfectly lovely conversations. And did a bit of drunken dancing, once we were down to our last few guests, and there was a bit more room. All in all, people seemed to really enjoy themselves, and I'd say that, despite my anxiety, it was a good night. And, I am extremely grateful for my lovely Matt, who I was able to drag into the kitchen for cuddles when I was feeling like it was all getting to much. Boyfriends do have their uses, it seems. ;P
Bascially, I just feel really disappointed in myself that I got so anxious and freaked out. I mean, I'm a shy person naturally, and I've realised (due to a few unfortunate happenings at work) that I don't make friends as easily as I might have once given myself credit for. I don't usually feel that comfortable in crowds- and, I think half the reason I enjoyed my parties in my old flat was because they were reasonably small and intimate. And well, our lounge room was a bit cramped, which didn't help- we did have a nice little alcove/conservatory coming off the lounge, which was a nice little spot for party guests to flock to, but that is now taken over by Matt's dining table. I'm thinking for my 25th birthday, I'll just drag more people into the hallway to hang out. And/or invite less people.
But anyway. I still feel like a twat for how I was feeling, and that it took me so long to relax and enjoy myself. I really do wish I felt more at home in large groups of people. I would love to not struggle with feeling shy and gawky and awkward- y'know, like a 13-year-old on their first day of high school, or the narrator of The Perks Of Being A Wallflower without the charming writing style, or Alice in Wonderland, when she took the potion and grew to be 10 feet tall. I would really love to be able to just...take over, and be the entertainer and court jester for the night, and have everyone eating out of my hand. Without alcohols, that is. I really do wish I could be one of these freakish people who go to a party knowing no-one, and come away with five new best friends. But, no. I am shy and awkward, gangly and clumsy like Alice, and probably more of a humble scullery maid than a court jester. And, well, I guess that's just me.
Don't worry, friends, I do plan on having more parties. I'll just be sure to go nuts on the herbal tea and pinch some of Den's herbal de-stress supplements beforehand. And, work on all my social anxieties with my therapist. I was joking around with miriamus that even though I have a grown-up job in the Government, a beautiful flat in the central city and am in a steady, adult relationship, I still drink V and wine out of a martini glass, like a starry-eyed first year Uni student. And, well, I guess that despite the job, flat and boyfriend, I'm still that painfully shy and dorky teenager, who spent her lunchtimes hiding in the library, and her weekends writing her own (terrible) magazine and (even more terrible) epistolary novel, as opposed to hanging out in Manners Mall and going to parties with wine and boys, without my parents knowing. *sigh* Some things never change, I guess...
So, we had a flatwarming party last night. Mainly to welcome Matt and Dennis, our other flattie, and to celebrate Matt and I taking the "next step", as it were. And, well, usually I adore the odd house party. Definitely my number one choice over a night in town- no sticky floors, or dodgy bathrooms, or terrible 80s party tunes, or girls trying to pull off their best Britney outfitts, or as many blokes thronging around trying to cop a feel. A couple of years ago, I gained the reputation among my mates as the host of several epic costume parties, plus the odd slightly-drunken dessert night. I've been to some awesome parties lately, including Matt's birthday drinks and my old flattie Bila's birthday party, where we played the chocolate game and pass the parcel! Good times.
Last night, however, was quite hard. Slightly more people than what we anticipated showed up. Which, y'know, is a good thing. Between the three of us, we have a lot of friends. And, I'm sure a few of you remember me angsting a fair bit back in the day about how hard it was to get people to show up to my dress-up dos when we lived further out in the suburbs. But, last night I was phemonenally happy and relieved that several of my mates couldn't make it, and that a fair few people piked.
To be honest, I found it overwhelming. Having that many people in our lounge room that is. It was even a little frightening at times. Usually, when I'm hosting a party, I get a little stressed out at first, trying to look out for everyone and make sure all the guests are having a reasonably OK time. Then, I kick back, get tiddly, and have a blast. But, last night was a little terrifying. I just felt...hemmed in. And, there were moments there when I felt like sprinting into my bedroom, and screaming into a pillow until it all went away. I was almost in tears several times...and, while I love almost everyone who was in that room very dearly, I had several points when I couldn't wait for people to just to clear the hell out. And, dear Lord, I sound like such a bitch for saying that. :(
So yeah. Not pretty. Eventually, I relaxed and calmed down, and mixed and mingled, and had some perfectly lovely conversations. And did a bit of drunken dancing, once we were down to our last few guests, and there was a bit more room. All in all, people seemed to really enjoy themselves, and I'd say that, despite my anxiety, it was a good night. And, I am extremely grateful for my lovely Matt, who I was able to drag into the kitchen for cuddles when I was feeling like it was all getting to much. Boyfriends do have their uses, it seems. ;P
Bascially, I just feel really disappointed in myself that I got so anxious and freaked out. I mean, I'm a shy person naturally, and I've realised (due to a few unfortunate happenings at work) that I don't make friends as easily as I might have once given myself credit for. I don't usually feel that comfortable in crowds- and, I think half the reason I enjoyed my parties in my old flat was because they were reasonably small and intimate. And well, our lounge room was a bit cramped, which didn't help- we did have a nice little alcove/conservatory coming off the lounge, which was a nice little spot for party guests to flock to, but that is now taken over by Matt's dining table. I'm thinking for my 25th birthday, I'll just drag more people into the hallway to hang out. And/or invite less people.
But anyway. I still feel like a twat for how I was feeling, and that it took me so long to relax and enjoy myself. I really do wish I felt more at home in large groups of people. I would love to not struggle with feeling shy and gawky and awkward- y'know, like a 13-year-old on their first day of high school, or the narrator of The Perks Of Being A Wallflower without the charming writing style, or Alice in Wonderland, when she took the potion and grew to be 10 feet tall. I would really love to be able to just...take over, and be the entertainer and court jester for the night, and have everyone eating out of my hand. Without alcohols, that is. I really do wish I could be one of these freakish people who go to a party knowing no-one, and come away with five new best friends. But, no. I am shy and awkward, gangly and clumsy like Alice, and probably more of a humble scullery maid than a court jester. And, well, I guess that's just me.
Don't worry, friends, I do plan on having more parties. I'll just be sure to go nuts on the herbal tea and pinch some of Den's herbal de-stress supplements beforehand. And, work on all my social anxieties with my therapist. I was joking around with miriamus that even though I have a grown-up job in the Government, a beautiful flat in the central city and am in a steady, adult relationship, I still drink V and wine out of a martini glass, like a starry-eyed first year Uni student. And, well, I guess that despite the job, flat and boyfriend, I'm still that painfully shy and dorky teenager, who spent her lunchtimes hiding in the library, and her weekends writing her own (terrible) magazine and (even more terrible) epistolary novel, as opposed to hanging out in Manners Mall and going to parties with wine and boys, without my parents knowing. *sigh* Some things never change, I guess...