In approximately one hour I'll be participating in awkward small talk, hovering over the snack table like a famished beast and wondering why on Earth I'm at a Singles Party.
That's right. A Singles Party.
Hungry for a man and tired of having to hunt them down every weekend, my friend decided to let the prey come to her house instead. Now me and the other girls have been talking and planning for this thing all month (and by planning I just mean vaguely wondering what to wear and hoping Spin the Bottle isn't one of the party games). The girls are excited at the thought of meeting someone new and running off into the night digits - or man - in hand. Maybe they'll fall for The One in the middle of Twister. Maybe they'll get to know someone who'll warrant an after party outing. Or maybe they'll find an awesome Mr. While I Look for Someone Better.
Then there's me. I'm skeptical about the success rate at these things (it's my first one) and the idea that everyone goes with the intent of meeting a potential date and scoring numbers skeeves me out. Yes, I know it's really not much different than going out to a bar or a club, but at least there I can hide behind the mask of "I'm just here to hang out with my friends so peace out weird man with the crazy eyes." Then if I feel brave, I can check out the scene and retreat whenever I want.
But you can't do that at a party where you're clearly looking for someone. That pretense is taken away from the get-go. I guess for those ready to venture out into the shark-infested waters called "dating," it's a welcomed relief. No need to beat around the bush. No need to act coy or figure out a cute way to ask, "So, are you taken?" You can just cut to the chase.
I'm not one of those people yet. This is another step there, but for now I'm really just going to show support. That and to mock the brave men and women who choose to put themselves out there time and time again. Bless their hearts, but I think I'll chill with the finger foods for now.