Thursday in the teacher’s lounge at lunch time — the place full of talking, working copy machines, humming microwaves and assorted dining noises — I casually mentioned to my lunch companion that I wasn’t going to the staff Christmas party. The room was suddenly silent. Everybody looked at me as if I’d just admitted to killing babies.
From 15 feet away, Mr. Texas-Drawl demanded to know why in the 7734 not? Nobody cared for any of my excuses. That is probably because they were just excuses. I never told them the truth. I hate going to parties where everyone is part of a couple and I am not.
What joy is there in …
… getting dressed up alone?
… driving across town alone?
… walking into a party alone?
… standing in the midst of couples alone?
… then going home alone with the laughter of those happy couples still ringing in my ears?
Thanks to a goodly amount of peer pressure, I will be going to the Christmas party. Chances are I will even enjoy some of the evening while I am there. But I will not enjoy leaving — walking across the parkinglot alone while everyone else is hand-in-hand. Alone and lonely are not always synonymous — except when you are a single in the middle of a paired off crowd.