I am not a party person.
I wish I was.
Not in the sense that I wish I was wild and crazy, drunk off my arse dancing on tables flashing people. I just wish I was a better mingle-er.
A few weeks ago, I spoke at an event in Beverly Hills. I wrote about it here in the good 'ol blog. Well, one of the women I met there has her own marketing company. Every month she has parties in downtown L.A. at various lofts to get the residents plugged into the local businesses. I don't have a store obviously, but at some of her other parties I'm going to have a table or something set up. In addition to business cards and such, I'll have some other visuals and maybe some video, etc.
Tonight's party was a combo marketing party and this woman's 40th birthday. So I was just invited to come and have a good time.
I got there about 2 hours after the party started...but it's L.A., so it took a couple hours after THAT for a crowd to really gather. It was so flippin' cold. What was I thinking? I knew it was a rooftop party, but there I was in my dress, no jacket or anything. I wandered by myself for the first half hour or so, checking out the views and getting some grub. After that, the b-day girl snatched me up and introduced me to her friends. We happened to be sitting next to one of the two rooftop fireplaces. When we finally got it lit, that was it for me - no more walking around. My butt was as close to the fire as it could get.
I ended up talking to several people - but really only if they were around the fire. I got up once or twice, but always ended up back at the fire. There were some fine young male specimens there - but me, with my shyness and freezing-my-butt-offness - I just kept my arse planted.
I actually did have a good time, but I really spent the night talking to various 40 year old women (what's wrong with me? everyone I spend time with these days is over 35. how did this happen?). All of them but one were black. And my lord, two of them told me they were 41...I wouldn't have pegged them for a day over 30. They say black don't crack, and I'm really starting to believe it. I'm 23 and I already feel like I'm cracking. I need to tap these women for their secrets. I don't want my black to crack!
I'm home now, sweats on, rocking out to Audioslave, trying to stay warm.
Nerd?
I think so. But that's ok.
I think.
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