This is how it happens
I show up, am greeted with hugs and smiling faces. The place is crowded and noisy. Everyone is happy, jocularity reigns supreme.
At some point, the obnoxiously drunk woman grabs my husband's hand and puts it on her breast. It's cool. Not cool, really, which I let her know because it's not cool at all. But I feel silly telling her because she's so hammered she's talking in cursive so she won't remember me telling her that it doesn't amuse me when she pulls shit like that (also included: telling the Husband she would fuck him so hard, singing Happy Birthday to him like Marilyn Monroe, reaching out to grab my breast when I confront her about the previous breast incident). But I am someone who used to let shit slide because I figured what was the point? I am the point. Showing me disrespect by hitting on my husband pisses me off. None of the guys who are in his circle would dare hit on me, no matter how drunk they get, out of respect for him. And I know it happens because I don't go out much and so in her eyes I am a nonentity. I know it happens because he is male and she desperately wants attention. When I (politely, calmly) confront her about her behavior, she makes it a point to tell me how much she know he loves me and I (politely, calmly) resist the urge to snort. She has known him all of six months. She can tell me nothing about my man that doesn't already live in my bones.
I have a love/hate relationship with crowds. I love watching them, hate being in the middle of one. I hate parties because I feel I'm always in the way. I now avoid big messy music festivals for the same reason. The more time I find myself in the midst of one, the size matters little. After two hours, 100 people feels like a lot. After four hours, six people can make me want to find a safe warm place and rock myself to sleep.
The Husband has no problem with crowds. He, burly and tall and more menacing-looking than he ever could be, just barrels through them when they get in his way. He loves large gatherings filled with people he knows and loves. He has no problem switching his attention from one conversation to another. So for his birthday, we are at his favorite bar, sitting around a picnic table with fifteen people. Conversation swirls in so many directions I get lost in it though I do not move from my spot except the pee. Obnoxiously drunk woman (who everyone puts up with because they all like her roommate(?!?)) has taken turns sitting on every man's lap - to varying degrees of success. I am visiting with my favorite people I've met since moving here. The husband is getting drunk. Me and one other person have made the Designated D pact so everyone will get home safely. The night is going well.
It never so much stops going well as there occurs in me that subtle shift. I'm not even aware it's happening. I've gamely had two different people talking in each ear and managed to keep conversation flowing. I've taken a few pics (which I may share later) and laughed and have allowed myself to have a good time.
You ever see the Johnny Depp Fear and Loathing? When it gets to the point in the movie where everything shifts just a fraction of an inch into desperately wrong and antics that at one time were funny are now disturbing? Did that happen to you? It did me. It's not that I was sober and everyone was drunk. Only a couple of people were so much so that I could easily avoid them. Well, except the Second Wife, who reaches a state of adorable inebriation during which he will announce to everyone around, "D. loves me more than anyone else here! She used to hate me (true), but now she loves me best (also true)," which is followed by lots of hugging.
Then I have to pee. And while I was wrapped up in my own little safe insanity, the bar has become very crowded. Like, cannot go two steps without having to brush up against strangers and yell, "Excuse me!" and hope I don't step on anyone and wait for assholes to move out of the fucking way and before I know it, I am ready to start killing people. And it's not because people are rude and stand in the way. It's a small place, they can't help it. It's because I've suddenly become so overwhelmed by the sea of humanity that my brain is in rapid-fire panic-and-retreat mode. My brain (sweet little introverted thing it is) needs me to leave NOW or shut-down procedures will go into immediate effect, during which time I will literally lose the ability to hold a conversation, become snappish, not even be aware of what is going on around me or what is being said.
It is times like these I love the Husband best. I come back to the table, say, "I'm about to start killing people," and he says, "Okay, baby. I love you." I arrange with the other Designated D to get my loved ones home safely, hug a few people, avoid a few others, and get the fuck out.
So if we ever meet, and we go somewhere crowded, and it seems I've suddenly stopped paying attention to you or become agitated for no reason, do not take it personally. Chances are, I just need to get in my car, blast some music, and not talk to anyone for at least two hours - if not longer. Though if we meet, and just hang at your house, my house, a deserted parking lot with two bottles of wine and the radio playing? I am content as a cat and will talk your ear off for hours on end.
At some point, the obnoxiously drunk woman grabs my husband's hand and puts it on her breast. It's cool. Not cool, really, which I let her know because it's not cool at all. But I feel silly telling her because she's so hammered she's talking in cursive so she won't remember me telling her that it doesn't amuse me when she pulls shit like that (also included: telling the Husband she would fuck him so hard, singing Happy Birthday to him like Marilyn Monroe, reaching out to grab my breast when I confront her about the previous breast incident). But I am someone who used to let shit slide because I figured what was the point? I am the point. Showing me disrespect by hitting on my husband pisses me off. None of the guys who are in his circle would dare hit on me, no matter how drunk they get, out of respect for him. And I know it happens because I don't go out much and so in her eyes I am a nonentity. I know it happens because he is male and she desperately wants attention. When I (politely, calmly) confront her about her behavior, she makes it a point to tell me how much she know he loves me and I (politely, calmly) resist the urge to snort. She has known him all of six months. She can tell me nothing about my man that doesn't already live in my bones.
I have a love/hate relationship with crowds. I love watching them, hate being in the middle of one. I hate parties because I feel I'm always in the way. I now avoid big messy music festivals for the same reason. The more time I find myself in the midst of one, the size matters little. After two hours, 100 people feels like a lot. After four hours, six people can make me want to find a safe warm place and rock myself to sleep.
The Husband has no problem with crowds. He, burly and tall and more menacing-looking than he ever could be, just barrels through them when they get in his way. He loves large gatherings filled with people he knows and loves. He has no problem switching his attention from one conversation to another. So for his birthday, we are at his favorite bar, sitting around a picnic table with fifteen people. Conversation swirls in so many directions I get lost in it though I do not move from my spot except the pee. Obnoxiously drunk woman (who everyone puts up with because they all like her roommate(?!?)) has taken turns sitting on every man's lap - to varying degrees of success. I am visiting with my favorite people I've met since moving here. The husband is getting drunk. Me and one other person have made the Designated D pact so everyone will get home safely. The night is going well.
It never so much stops going well as there occurs in me that subtle shift. I'm not even aware it's happening. I've gamely had two different people talking in each ear and managed to keep conversation flowing. I've taken a few pics (which I may share later) and laughed and have allowed myself to have a good time.
You ever see the Johnny Depp Fear and Loathing? When it gets to the point in the movie where everything shifts just a fraction of an inch into desperately wrong and antics that at one time were funny are now disturbing? Did that happen to you? It did me. It's not that I was sober and everyone was drunk. Only a couple of people were so much so that I could easily avoid them. Well, except the Second Wife, who reaches a state of adorable inebriation during which he will announce to everyone around, "D. loves me more than anyone else here! She used to hate me (true), but now she loves me best (also true)," which is followed by lots of hugging.
Then I have to pee. And while I was wrapped up in my own little safe insanity, the bar has become very crowded. Like, cannot go two steps without having to brush up against strangers and yell, "Excuse me!" and hope I don't step on anyone and wait for assholes to move out of the fucking way and before I know it, I am ready to start killing people. And it's not because people are rude and stand in the way. It's a small place, they can't help it. It's because I've suddenly become so overwhelmed by the sea of humanity that my brain is in rapid-fire panic-and-retreat mode. My brain (sweet little introverted thing it is) needs me to leave NOW or shut-down procedures will go into immediate effect, during which time I will literally lose the ability to hold a conversation, become snappish, not even be aware of what is going on around me or what is being said.
It is times like these I love the Husband best. I come back to the table, say, "I'm about to start killing people," and he says, "Okay, baby. I love you." I arrange with the other Designated D to get my loved ones home safely, hug a few people, avoid a few others, and get the fuck out.
So if we ever meet, and we go somewhere crowded, and it seems I've suddenly stopped paying attention to you or become agitated for no reason, do not take it personally. Chances are, I just need to get in my car, blast some music, and not talk to anyone for at least two hours - if not longer. Though if we meet, and just hang at your house, my house, a deserted parking lot with two bottles of wine and the radio playing? I am content as a cat and will talk your ear off for hours on end.