Those damn holiday parties

So yesterday I looked in my mail slot and saw an envelope... addressed to me. I was slightly excited: "I wonder what it is?" That thought was soon quashed when a co-worker said offhandedly, "Those are the invitations for the Christmas party."

Oh.

So after feeling a little bit of disappointment that I wasn't special with a personalized card, it sunk it: Christmas-fucking-party. I hate those things. Hate 'em. Why? I'm sure you guessed it: because I'm the one there without a date. Ugh.

Last year, fortunately, was okay. A number of my co-workers were dateless, the place was packed, I was hit on all night (mainly by drunk guys, but hit on nonetheless), and the drinks mellowed me out enough that I wasn't completely self-conscious and anxiety-ridden.

But here I am, at another company, and in a couple months another fucking holiday party will be happening. I almost feel like hiding my head under a pillow. Haha. That'd be cute.

But I notice that, as is the case with most things, the feelings I'm having regarding this aren't just about this Christmas party, but also feelings that's apparently lingered from grade school (is high school grade school). The Valentine's Days without gifts (well, that's not true - my best friend used to bring me a card and balloons and flowers, bless her heart, so at least I could pretend they were from a secret admirer). In high school, I never knew who I'd go to dances with and it would usually be a last minute scramble - I'd ask a guy and maybe he'd say yes or maybe not. Maybe I'd end up going and I wouldn't even have a date. (Why go to a dance without a date, you might ask. Because, working in student government, I had to help out.)

Despite how that paragraph probably sounds, I'm not trying to stew in a pity party; rather, I'm trying to explain how those things from before carry on today and I feel the same anxiety/rejection/fear/resentment, etc.

There's always the route of trying to find a date. Oh, how horrible. Most of my guy friends have moved from the area, and the ones who are here... well, I'll skip that. I know for the next month and a half I'm going to look at guys as potential dates. "Hmm, does he look like someone I'd feel okay showing to my co-workers? Yep. Does he have a wedding ring? Nope. Ok, maybe I should try and flirt with him." (Which is a completely different thing - I give huge "don't bother me" signs - everyone tells me I'm very intimidating before they get to know me, but once they know me, they realize I'm pretty harmless.) My fear is that I'll end up talking to some old guy, which is ugh - somehow I often get along better with much older guys (old enough to be my dad, I suppose, but definitely not old enough to be my grandpa), but can you imagine if I brought someone like that to a work party? Holy shit! Or even worse, I won't find someone period. Aye. Even saying that makes my heart feel pained (or beat faster or something).

And to make it better, add having a crush on not one, but two guys at work - both of whom are married! It's not the marriage thing that is really bad - it's the having-to-see-the-wife-stay-by-her-husband-while-I-try-to-ignore-them. (Not like it's ever happened before...) (yes, my voice was trailing off at the end).

Ok damnit, I'm having a motherfucking pity party for myself. I should keep things in perspective - there are people dying in the world and the last thing they care about is a stupid party. But I'm here and I care. :-(

Here are my options:
- go with a guy
- go with a girlfriend
- go by myself
- don't go

Eeks. At this point, I'd possibly even think of finding some really cute girl to be my date (I can't believe I just said that, but there it is; plus, the company is gay-friendly so I don't think it would be perceived overly negatively).

And there is the essence of the fucking dilemma: I'm worried about others' perception of me. It's completely my fear of what people think about me. Ugh. Who cares what other people think?

I care.

I have some work cut out for me. It's not necessarily work to find someone to go to the party with (even if I didn't find someone, I'd more than likely still go). The work might just be to become more comfortable with just being me. Me. Me. Without putting so much credence into what someone might be thinking in their head because they raised their eyebrow slightly higher than they normally do or because the person didn't sit next to me in a meeting.

Whah. (That's not a wail; it's more of an exhale.)

Let's see what happens.