The monkey made me do it

Social Anxiety

I can pinpoint exactly when it happened. My actor boyfriend at the time (oh, why did I ever think that would work again? How many bad actor/musician dating experiences does one require before tossing that idea entirely) brought me to a house party that was being thrown for some event or another. Even though I'd hung out with his friends before, it was always in smaller groups and the boyfriend was always there to make sure that the conversation was properly centered directly on himself. Wait, I got distracted already…

This house party was a big one, and 90% of the attendees knew each other (the Seattle theater scene is not large). They were all performers, with the trappings associated with the craft. Namely:

* Little to no self-esteem
* Obsessive need to network/schmooze with those who could give them work
* Inside jokes out the wahoo
* Overly loud laughter and tendency to flail disturbingly when telling stories

Actors are tricky – one or two of them can make an otherwise boring party far more fun, but when you put together 50+ of them in a smallish house, it gets dangerous to hold a drink and there are more bad accents being thrown around than the human ear should rightfully be subjected to in a lifetime (caveat: I used to act. I have pretended to be British without ever setting foot in Britain. My only excuse is that I was young, nubile, and horribly bored) (I still can pratfall like a champ, though, which is highly fun at parties and should never be underestimated for entertainment value)

Here's what happened. We entered the house, and encountered a large number of strange, loud, flailing people. We dropped off our bottle of hostess bribery and our random appetizer, and then my boyfriend disappeared. I'm sure he either saw someone he knew, met someone to schmooze, or got enthralled with a description of the newest way to emote from 50 feet away, but all I know is that suddenly I was alone. I wandered the large party house, trying to find him without looking like I was trying to find him, and then ended up in the backyard, surrounded by groups of theater folk huddled into their cliques and laughing. I found a couple of Canadians who had been brought along by friends and we formed our own little pod for a while (with me scanning every now and then for the missing boy). After about 30 minutes even their Canadian politeness was strained. Our conversation was great, but something about large parties forces people to mingle and migrate on a regular basis (the ebb and flow? Drink requirements? The relative scarcity of bathrooms as compared to the overabundance of heinies?). I was alone again.

There really is only so much a person can do when surrounded by groups of people who already know each other and aren't so concerned about reaching out and getting to know you. You can stride up to them, stand at the periphery, and hope they think you've been there the whole time and start talking to you accidentally. You can try to jump in the conversation at random, using the blunt object that is your personality to bend them to your will and liking. You can engage in behavior that will hopefully draw people to you (laughing uproariously, etc.), but that doesn't work when there is only one of you. The best I could think of was to start up an interpretive dance in the center of the room, and hoping that they'd think it art and not a seizure.

I didn't do it. What I did do was to claim a lawn chair at the edge of the party and look and the landscaping. I'd chug whatever I was holding and then wind my way through the huddles of wildebeest to the kitchen and get another. I think a couple times I went to pee, just to have the excuse to walk around a bit. The boy never resurfaced, and the groups never made it any easier to join, even though I smiled and laughed at whatever they were smiling and laughing at as I wound by (and hoped deep inside that it wasn't me). This went on for HOURS. Chug, wander, smile emptily, look at leaves, chug, stare at nothing, try to remember to smile. I have nightmares sometimes about the level of crappiness that evening reached. When the boyfriend finally showed up again, I physically attached myself to his shirt in the most charming way possible and didn't let him even leave to go to the bathroom. We went home shortly after. I told him, again in a charming manner, "NEVER LEAVE ME LIKE THAT AGAIN", but he didn't get it and this situation was repeated a couple more times before I broke up with the bastard.

You know how they say that you can be lonely in the middle of a crowd? I'd never experienced it before that night. It may seem like it wasn't a big deal, but it did something strange to me. Previously I'd never really been all that concerned about parties. They weren't my favorite (much prefer groups of 5-10), but I'd always attend and usually have a pretty good time getting to know new people. Now, things are different. I'm still fine if I know roughly 10-20% of the people there (which happens often, luckily), but if it's a group of 50 and I only know 2 of them? I will do all in my power to not go, and if I do attend, beforehand I will literally shake and sweat and feel horribly nauseous and have to talk myself into going (I've had to resort to calling friends to talk me into walking through the door). Borderline panic attacks, honestly. It's gotten better in the past couple of years, thanks to many new friends and lots of good party experiences. Evites are lovely, as I can directly see how many of the people there will serve as life preservers for me in that sea of strangeness. I apologize to those whose gatherings I've skipped in the past 2 years. I swear I'm not that shy, not socially backward at all – the irony is that I LOVE meeting new people and expanding my social circle, it's just the fear of… crowds? party isolation? personally negating that whole "no man is an island" quote?

I guess the moral of the story is stay away from actor parties. No good can come of them.

posted by LadyJay @ 11:11 AM