THE SEEN

The year I went from the Scene to the Seen, "party" became a four-letter word.

The Diagnosis

I'm naturally shy so I combat what I call misdiagnosed conceitedness. It's not possible to be remotely attractive and shy. People mistake my Shy for being stuck-up unless I am the life of the party. And this leads people to believe I'm high maintenance. It's no-win.

California knows how to party. In the city of Compton, we keep it rockin'. Shake it Cali.

The Scene: In a former life, 'good times' involved dim lighting, loud music, a smorgasbord open 'bar' of soda and snacks and chilling and grooving with 100 other people you never met before to get a few new numbers. Peacocking is mandatory. SoCal influence hits up Utah hot.

The year I discovered making an appearance was a lot more fun than throwing the party I lost Social Statii. The older I get the less I like the Scene. My idea of a party these days involves a grill, sunscreen, Sangria, and 10 of my closest. That's my scene. No dancing, no partying, no mystery people, no keystone friends to invite so you can pimp your party to the right crowd.

The Symptoms

I hate mingling ever since my stint as an event planner. It was the never-ending dinner cruise in San Diego, dancing on the bar to YMCA with the servers at the Hard Rock in Phoenix, or those times in Chicago, Miami, or Seattle. All that forced "fun" mingling made me hate it. 

The Cure

I don't often do parties unless they include descriptors: Beach Party, Movie Night, World Cup, Suzanne Somers Summer Celebration. The more character, the more I am attracted. (That's a universal statement for me- houses, men, cars, friends, you name it.)

If I wanted to dance and get hit on repeatedly I'd go dancing. If I want to chill with 100 people I don't know, I'll go to a concert. If I want numbers, I'll flirt. If I want loud music and dim lights, I'll go to a movie. That's my scene.

I'm the Seen; seen mostly by the food table for an hour before I hit up the midnight showing.

I wonder if it isn't the same for all of us. Adulthood is a glacier encroaching quietly on youth. When it arrives, the stamp of childhood suddenly freezes, capturing us for good in the image of our last act, the pose we struck when the ice of age set in. -The Rule of Four