a Cheap Holiday

Cheap Holiday

Welcome to a cheap holiday in my life. At least you get to go home at the end of the day!

Sunday, November 24, 2002

I am a dork.

Princess calls me a "dork" all the time. "You are such a dork," she'll say sometimes, when I've mentioned something particularly obtuse. She says it with love, but I'm not sure if she realizes how much truth she is speaking.

I met a group of people several weeks ago. Twenty-four hour party people. I was in a party mood that particular day and was able to pass myself off as one of them. They called me on the cell phone this morning to come join the morning-after party, two blocks away. I had not seen any of them in several weeks, after lengthy bouts of phone tag. So I thought this morning I could pass off the same con-job.

I am such a dork.

I walk into a sparsely furnished bachelor pad full of people who have been up all night and have no fear to continue into the day. What the hell was I thinking? That everyone would be up for a philosphical round of debating the whole Palestine-Israel question? I feel like I've walked into a den of alcoholic wolves and everyone is looking at me like I'm fresh meat (actually, they're looking at the vodka bottle I'm holding like fresh meat). Who the hell am I trying to fool?

Myself, I think. When I first met these people, I thought, hey, they probably know a lot of people and places, they can introduce me around Philly. What I had suspected all along, and what was confirmed today, is that I'm not sure I want to know any of them. I feel lost in their midst, like I'm trying too hard to act younger, like I'm a fraud. I was able to be sociable for about two hours, then I beat as graceful a retreat as possible.

I am such a dork.


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