One of the drawbacks I’ve suffered in the recent past as a direct result of moving to this country is the freefall of my social life into a dismal abyss. In real terms, what this means is that when any excuse for mafaro comes along, I grab it with both hands and doggedly hang on for dear life, oblivious to any nascent disappointment.
An acquaintance of mine had a party this weekend. So a sister decided to invest in some glad rags and bring the dancing shoes out of their forced retirement. (I think they are actually going to be retrenched soon, they seem to be superfluous to demands). The big day dawned bright and clear, and all preparations were deemed to be satisfactory, not to toot my own horn, but my sh** was together and definitely on point!
This party was supposed to start at 7pm. Fair enough you give natives some leeway, punctuality never having been one of our strongest suits. 8pm rolls by. Only women are in attendance. 9pm, and I’m starting to get a bit pensive about the lack of any male showing. 10pm, and a certain panic has set in. By 11pm, I’m in a state of hysterical agitation as no persons of the opposite sex have put in a showing.
To exacerbate the pitiful state of affairs, there was not even a drop of any alcoholic or intoxicating substances to dull the edge of such a slump. Celibacy, I can handle. Sobriety might take a bit more work, but that I can handle that too. But to have both unilaterally imposed upon me, that I unfortunately cannot take in my stride. I can be both sober and sexually frustrated at home; no need to leave my house for that cruel and painful death throe.
Jean-Paul Sartre summed it up best when he said that hell is other people. So, now I’m waiting for Christmas. To get me some of that Christmas cheer. I’ve got a week in which to perpetrate some form of evil.
I do believe that Santa likes bad girls, he sits them on his lap and asks them: ‘Do you want Santa to come down your chimney’? Wink! wink! Merry Christmas folk!