Fun at Parties

I’ve never been fun at parties. I used to think that this meant I was not fun in general. I don’t like doing “fun things.” I don’t like hanging out in large groups, expected to mingle and make sparkling conversation. I don’t like party buses full of LED lights. I don’t like the sky-high expectations that come with an event where I have to wear a fancy dress and mill around a catering hall. When in these situations, I steal appetizers from passed plates and fill my mouth to the point where I can’t reasonably be expected to make conversation. I don’t like backyard barbecues where I am forced to see people I haven’t seen in ages and ask the question “What’s been happening with you?” Everyone always seems to answer with a perfectly tailored paragraph that makes them seem interesting and smart and cool. My palms, on the other hand, sweat as I respond, “Nothing.” I don’t like parties; ergo: I am not fun.

I don’t like doing “fun things.”

But what if the definition of “fun” changes from person-to-person? I may not be fun at parties, but this doesn’t mean I’m not fun. I am the first person to tell you I’m having a good time. (Some people claim saying “I’m having a good time” ruins the good time. But these people are wrong. In fact, stating you are having a good time just expands on the good time, giving those who are not sure how to have fun permission to have it.) I love intimate dinners. I love going to a concert with a single friend. I love running errands with a pal. I love joking and making conversation with people I know, and not having to perform for people I don’t. Fun is what you make it. Fun is a definition you create in real time.