21 May 2021

I never thought the day would come. The day I introduce myself at house parties, get bruised like a peach in a mosh and scream ABBA lyrics so loud that I have to drink hot lemon water for three days to revive my voice. 

I'd been sitting on my couch like a sad sack of potatoes for so long during iso, lusting for a world where I could boogie with friends and strangers again. Finally, here I was doing it. One word: Surreal.

 

But as I walked into my first party, first club, and first event, I felt like an 18-year-old again. I was wide-eyed and fresh to the world of partying. Had I forgotten how to do it?

I didn't know how to dress. Everything boujier than trackie-dacks and a dirty band tee seemed over-the-top. Not to mention, I hadn't dressed up nicely for months and months. What did I used to wear to gigs? To parties? To dinner dates? 

My charismatic self was buried deep down and as I walked into parties, I was nervous and awkward... How did I used to introduce myself? What questions would I ask? 

My flirty game was completely gone. Flirting really is a muscle you have to work. Instead of smooth-talking my way to success, I would find myself, in my intoxicated state, talking about Ratatouille being the best film ever (I don't even remember that movie), or asking guys the last time they pooped their pants... SERIOUSLY! I ASKED THIS TO A GUY I WAS INTO! My game was completely gone, as well as my dignity. 

I also forgot how to drink. Since I was hardly drinking during iso, I became an intense lightweight. Just the smell of vodka could send me into a drunk frenzy. At one of the first parties I went to when life was slowly returning back to normal, I got so drunk from three drinks that I ran through a barbwire fence because I heard ABBA playing and got excited (can you tell that I love ABBA?). Six stitches later, I realised that I needed to reevaluate my limits.

So yeah. Things were a little weird for a bit there. But I'm back baby. If you're feeling a little weird, you'll be back too.

I wear whatever floats my dingy. I mean, who cares! I'm out and partying! I'd party in a potato sack if it meant partying at all. I dug away slowly but surely to find my charismatic self again, growing comfortable with having deep convos with strangers and keeping banter levels high. I've paced myself with drinking and always remember the things my 'rents taught me back in the day. Y'know, like: drink slowly, always eat dinner, drink plenty of H20, beware of unfamiliar drinks... 

The flirting is still pretty useless. Maybe I was never good at that to be honest. But hey! All I need is ABBA.