There's something a little awkward about getting to your birthday party before anybody else. Saturday night I sat at my table at The Arsenal sipping my grey goose and tonic waiting for everyone to show up. At first I thought...no big deal. People go to bars by themselves all the time. Then I got to thinking...but this was my birthday party. I waited almost 40 minutes before someone else showed up...Annie. Thank. God. for Annie. I felt a little funny...a little awkward...waiting there by myself, but it had to be done. I started to wonder if these kinds of moments came with age. You know...the older you get, the less things like appearance matter (i.e. the older you get, the more pathetic you are/life is). This would never fly for an 18th birthday...ya know? An 18 year old would cry. It's her party and she'll cry if she wants to. But not me. I'm 24...a BIG girl (I threatened a friend on the phone to walk out...he convinced me not to). So I sucked it up. And really, in the end, all was well. People came, we drank, we danced, we partied. Maybe too much. The photos told me the truth and played out everything I could not remember. Ay yay yay. So did it really matter I was by myself in the beginning? Did I look pathetic? Maybe. I'm gonna stick with the notion that I fully intended that to happen. I wanted some peace before the storm. Yeah...that's it.
Posted by Mollie Gamo at December 19, 2005 11:58 AM | TrackBack