Beer, Scotch, Juice Box, Whatever

Last night was like my high school prom all over again, only for adults, and my date wasn't a skinny Hispanic kid who sang for a crappy punk band. D and I got all dolled up in our finest clothing and spent the evening at his company's Christmas party. Most of the night, I felt like I was 12 again and I had tagged along with my parents to some kind of adult party. I tugged at Dave's sleeve every now and then, whispering to him that we should get more food or desert or go outside. The grownups asked me where I worked, and I would timidly tell them that I was a mere student, an undergrad at that.
The open bar was my rescuer.
I'm pretty good at getting myself all stirred up with anxiety at social events like this, but once I had a few glasses of wine the hours flew by.
And it really wasn't as bad as I'm making it sound. Some of D's coworkers are funny people. It was entertaining to watch tipsy couples dance. The band was hilarious with its animated singer and guitarist that made funny faces. And really, I think a lot of people feel kind of awkward at parties like that.
So, if anything it was an interesting experience.


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