If I had a phone that would’ve allowed me to blog on the go, I would have done so. But since all I got is my trusty 1202, my 5th phone after losing my 7610 to thieves and my n70 to hardware complications, I had to make do with making hastily typed messages and saving them in the drafts folder. Needless to say, I’m reconstructing my experience from messages that have little coherence and lots of typos.
During one of our karaoke sessions, me and my friends came to the conclusion that we had absolutely no social lives whatsoever. With the exception of a few, none of my friends are really that into parties or socializing. Personally, I am a nerd, through and through. Parties make me feel weird. People make me insecure. I never learned to drink or to smoke because I never saw the logic behind it.
But thankfully, things and perspectives change, ours included. So, me and my fellow high school nerds decided to eventually become full-fledged party animals, beginning with monthly get together and dinners. This, we concluded, was a highly plausible plan: we were employed, we were bored, we had nothing better to do and we all wanted a social life. Badly.
Last Friday, we went out to eat, only this time, I was a wee bit too early and in the case of my friends, being early is never good. I should have known that something was wrong when my numerous texts of “Asan na kayo?” went unanswered.
I almost ended up proclaiming my pathetic-ness to the whole city of Zamboanga that night when I spent an hour alone at a particularly well-lighted table that only served too well to highlight the fact that I was alone and friendless.
It didn’t help that the restaurant messed up my orders. I got my dessert (a knickerbocker glory), my iced tea and my glass of water before I got my tuna sandwich. Heartless restaurant, making me go on a premature liquid diet. I slurped and slugged through my orders with the enthusiasm of a snail.
Finally, Sherillyn arrived and I did a little jig. She’s always good company. Barely a few minutes in, I have completely forgotten that I was supposed to give her the woe-is-me guilt trip.
Me: We should try our luck in England.
She: I don’t like Inland. We’d be better off in Woodland. (Inland and Woodland are local resorts in Zamboanga City)
DJ came a little later. He claims to have stopped by his house to freshen up a bit, but the overly fresh persona, plus the fact he looked and smelled better than me and She made me think otherwise.
Despite the fact that Sherillyn came only because she’s as desperate as me to get out of the house and DJ was only there because he felt really sorry that I got stood up by the people who said they would come but never came, I had fun. We could have ordered a feast if everyone came, but the Mongolian rice and buttered chicken wasn’t so bad either.
The experience, though, made us re-evaluate our invitation priorities. We would hereby limit our invitations to social gatherings to people who are the most desperate for companionship thus ensuring a decent turn-out rate.
Basically those people would be me, Sherillyn and DJ.
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