The last truly successful party I hosted was in 2005. It was a Christmas party, and it was a wonderful evening. We hate, laughed, danced to records, opened gifts, and watched SCTV Christmas episodes. It was a good crowd too, about fifteen people. Not too small, not too large. Just right. Then in 2006 I sent out notices for another Christmas party—which for a while was a yearly tradition. But for some reason, hardly anyone came to the party in 2006. 2005 had fifteen people, 2006 had three.
After that year I put the Christmas party out to pasture. But in 2011 I threw the first one in five years. At the time I was living with a roommate, and we thought it would be a fun thing to do. We culled our lists of friends and invited a equal number from both. Most of their's arrived, two of mine did. It was a very boring affair, the food was decent at best, and her friends spent the whole night talking about their paranormal investigations. When my friends did arrive, they brought me a bottle of wine as a gift. It was very kind of them to do so, but my roommate later opened it up and drank it all. That living situation didn't last much longer.
So naturally when people say to me “Why don't you have people over more often?” they are met with a look on my face that conveys both annoyance and sorrow. One of my favorite movies as a child was the 1964 classic The Pink Panther. I loved that movie, and how everyone was just having a great time it seemed. Dinner parties in ski chalets, lots of snow, champagne, and witty banter. I saw all of that and thought “Yes! That's what I want in my adult life!” Only the problem is I don't look like David Niven, I don't really drink that much, and the witty banter at dinner always devolves into conversations about The Real Housewives of Erwin.
After my “dry spell”, I was finally convinced by a group of friends to have a tiny super bowl gathering. I'm not one for sports, but they were all geeked up about it, and wanted to enjoy my surround sound system. I made food, nothing too crazy, snacky sportsy type things. Kickoff was at six, so I told my guests to be at my house a little after four. I spent the morning cleaning the house, and making sure every drop of dust was removed. I started the nacho dip and got it going in the crockpot, and I refilled all my air freshener plug ins.
At fifteen to four I was doing final little touch ups all around the house. I stood anxiously in my kitchen awaiting my guest's arrival. Four o'clock came, and no one showed up. Fifteen past the hour came, and no one showed up. I moved to my couch to see the pre-game footage. Five rolled around, and no one showed up. That's how it was, the game began, and no one arrived. So here I was, alone with my cat, and a crockpot full of nacho dip.
I watched the game, ate the dip, and then got the sick the next day. You can OD on cheese it seems. So whenever someone says to me “Why don't you have people over more often?” You know know the reason why. I'll have a friend or two over, from time to time, but as far as a full blown bash? Well, maybe we'll see what happens when I throw my Fourth of July BBQ this year—which the same group of people have been asking me to do.