So y'all probably know what a fucken socially-anxious introvert loser I am. Like, I go to two hours of class and I have to lie in bed after because it literally exhausts my entire body. So when I say I went to a random part of New South Wales to stay over at my friend's house for his 21st birthday party with a bunch of people I don't know, I'm sure you understand.
I was so tempted not to go. Laura (my best friend) was invited too and was originally going to go, which would have been much easier, but she couldn't in the end, so I was to fend for myself against the horrors of perfectly nice, friendly people populating my hyper-privileged life. As I said, I was very tempted to message Jack and make an excuse, and relish in routine and the fact of my loserishness. But I do love Jack, and i couldn't let him down. This is us:
And as with most things, my motivation was a romantic image: driving a couple hours north to the Central Coast, where I'd never been, and drinking raucously with my uni friends (Or Lack Thereof?).
So I did just that. I left at about 3:30 on Saturday, all jittery and sad because of the "torture" I had ahead of me. It was a lovely drive - the weather was as moody as I was: alternating rain and cloudiness. AND I didn't get lost ALL THE WAY to Terrigal! Which is astonishing for me. I'm hopeless at directions, and the GPS on my phone doesn't work. Anyway I overshot by like 20 kilometers and ended up somewhere in Avoca, past a town/place ominously called "The Entrance". Imagine driving into a town in the grey of day and just seeing a sign that says:
Jack's house is very unlike Jack - which makes sense, given that it is his parent's house. It was very typical white person's house - it had one of those text-printed canvasses from like Kmart. It didn't say "Live Laugh Love" but it was something similar. And a 3d word thing that said "taste" in the kitchen. Y'know. That sort of thing. I met his mum and dad and sister and cousin who all had English accents - I forgot his family's English. Explains his extreme penchant for Stormzy.
Put my bags away (his mum had made Jack's room into a cute lil girl's room where us girls were to stay, and the boys (who outnumbered us immensely) were all camping out in the garage. Then it was time to enter: and there was Jackson, Chay, and Hema, whom I am all friends with, but don't see very often at all. Perhaps let's say acquaintance-friends. They'd arrived together from Canberra at 3pm so they'd been there for a while, and looked pretty tired and excited to start drinking. I'd met Ben, abnd there was few else there yet because it was like 6pm. I sat down sort of awkwardly talking to them: "so, what degree do you do?". This childhood friend of Jack's and his girlfriend came; who already have FULL-TIME JOBS. Which is terrifying. I, being the abhorrent bitch that I am, was very sceptical at first because the girl would, out loud, literally stay stuff like "Oh my god look at that pupper it's so heckin cute". But they turned out to be very nice, and the people us Canberrans stuck with the most that night.
It eventually became Drinking Time. I had some goon-orangejuice-lemonade-vodka punch, but that was about it - partially because I could tell the party wasn't going to be "worth" the calories (smh @ my brain), and because I had to drive the next day and I'm on my green Ps so if I was breath tested and had any alcohol in my system I'd be screwed.
The party went on. More people came. We distinguished 3 different groups of friends: us, the Lodge-esque friends, his "lads lads lads" group of friends from school whose main hobbies were likely drinking, and his smart quiet nerdy engineering friends spanning both Gosford selective school and Canberra. There was a clear divide - as there often is at 21sts. Hema, Jackson, Chay and I mostly talked amongst ourselves with the couple. I learnt way more about Hema, and she I. It was quite nice really. But we really weren't feeling the party. We lasted till about 10:30 (so early I know - but everyone was already getting pissed) and I cited sensory overload (autistism privilege lel) and hid in the bathroom. I'm literally an American movie stereotype. But I was literally chilling sideways in the bathtub in the dark. Hema knocked at some point and said "Sa?" so I came out pretending to be all cheery. Found her lying in on the big mattress in our room for the night and I joined her. My head hurt so bad at this point; it felt like there was a pole going in through one temple and out the other. It was weird being so close to Hema emotionally all of the sudden. It was very nice, but I have this weird thing where I get all squirmy inside at the thought of being tangibly close to certain people. Like, it used to make me squirm to think that I'd been seeing my piano teacher for over 10 years. Anyway we both decided we'd had enough, went downstairs and said goodnight to Jack and friends, and then thanked his parents. God, I felt lame saying good night to Jack and even lamer in front of his parents. They must have thought us such losers. But I got through it and we were in bed by 11. I was exhausted, even though my usual bedtime is around 2. My head hurt so bad and I felt queasy and the bass from the music was pounding my brain so I couldn't sleep. And I thought: is this what it's like to be old? Eventually Congratulations by Post Malone came on, which doesn't have such a strong bass, and I fell asleep to his sweet voice, waking when Chay came in and recounted how Jackson had gotten into a fight (they're dating; she'd been looking after him).
Woke up at about 9 the next day feeling so much better, both physically and psychologically. I think it was knowing that the worst was over. Jack stuck his head in to say his dad was making bacon and eggs on the barbie, and I pulled on my Redemption jumper from Lori over my Clap Your Hands Say Yeah shirt I stole from dad and some target boxers I wear as pyjama shorts (lol this sounds like a Wattpad fanfiction) and Hema and Chay and I went down, collecting hungover Jackson from his lil cave on the way. We sat at a table in the middle of his garden (the lads lads lads / enginerring group further up) and ate bacon and egg sangas in the sun with his dog Alfie meandering around us, talking about random shit like sexist doctors and scenic drives. Jack got his drone, attached to a VR camera whose screen you strap to your face, and it zipped around like a mechanical fly. We were lovingly saying how, knowing Jack, when he finishes building his own drone, he's gonna accidentally fly it in view of some poor changing girl or something and get into a heap of trouble. That's very Jack - cluelessly falling into trouble. We love him for it though.
We lingered in the sun for a while (Jack was already beginning to burn), and then went upstairs to change and get ready. The rest of the CBR gang were going to leave at 12 (Hema had a hot date with a FEMINIST man at 6:30 in Canberra that she was very anxious to look hot for), but I decided to forgo the showers they were taking and leave a bit earlier, at 11:30 (I was worried - in a classic Sa fashion - about it being awkward if our cars were really close but not quite all the way back to Canberra).
I went to get fuel, thinking I'd be pretty empty (my fuel gage AND odometer are broken, so I have no way of telling how much fuel I have lol) but at the gosford Shell station, only needed $10 to fill up the tank - meaning my dad had filled up the tank. Bless him. I don't feel appreciative enough of everything he does for me without even asking. Here's him in the boot fixing the car's antenna on Saturday morning:
The drive was pleasant. As I may have already said, long drives are risky with me because the sound of the tired on the road lulls me to sleep. But I think I cracked the code - I need something to actively think about, like trying to speed a little and slow down when there's the chance of a police car, and overtaking more and shit instead of just staying in one particular motion.
I listened to my EXCELLENT curation of music on my phone, and the new tiny meat gang podcast. I got back at about 4.
I did it. I really didn't, but I did, technically: I drove up the coast, hung out with friends and drank and partied, had a classic hangover breakfast to have in my stomach for the big drive back, where I got to have fun on my own.
I feel very uncool. But something that got me through the night was Peep. He reminded me that it's okay to be socially anxious, it doesn't detract from your worth, and you can still be cool even if your quiet "in the back of the club". In fact, as I was lying with Hema, I said something, and in retort, she said "no, I just think you're really cool". That made me so ineffably happy. And so, as with body dysmorphia (shall we call this personality dysmorphia?), I must distrust my own vision of myself and trust others'. Is that a bad message? Whatever. I'm tired, and humiliated but triumphant, and I still have study to do. Goodnight.
I was so tempted not to go. Laura (my best friend) was invited too and was originally going to go, which would have been much easier, but she couldn't in the end, so I was to fend for myself against the horrors of perfectly nice, friendly people populating my hyper-privileged life. As I said, I was very tempted to message Jack and make an excuse, and relish in routine and the fact of my loserishness. But I do love Jack, and i couldn't let him down. This is us:
And as with most things, my motivation was a romantic image: driving a couple hours north to the Central Coast, where I'd never been, and drinking raucously with my uni friends (Or Lack Thereof?).
So I did just that. I left at about 3:30 on Saturday, all jittery and sad because of the "torture" I had ahead of me. It was a lovely drive - the weather was as moody as I was: alternating rain and cloudiness. AND I didn't get lost ALL THE WAY to Terrigal! Which is astonishing for me. I'm hopeless at directions, and the GPS on my phone doesn't work. Anyway I overshot by like 20 kilometers and ended up somewhere in Avoca, past a town/place ominously called "The Entrance". Imagine driving into a town in the grey of day and just seeing a sign that says:
Welcome to The Entrance.
The entrance to what? Hell? I was already there. (God I'm melodramatic). I realised at this point that I was way off and turned back until I found myself somewhere in Terrigal. Jack called me (he knows how hopeless I am) and was like "ok just drop your location to me on facebook and I'll come find you" which I found embarrassingly extreme - I'm so useless I need a fucking search party? Anyway, because my GPS has a mind of it's own the location it dropped me in to Jack was WYOMING. Not in America (though I would have believed I was there at this point), but some rural-ass town and Jack must have thought I was REAL stupid to think I was in Terrigal when I was actually in Wyoming. But he called me again and the confusion was cleared and him and his mate Ben came and found me and Jack hopped in and directed me to his house - which was actually just like 3 streets away lol.
I think I apologised for being stupid like four times in the time it took to get there. I've really got to stop doing that. It's a defence mechanism that just reinforces a subservient-female stereotype. How dare I be a bother! Nah, fuck that. I'm worth it - if you want me, you gotta come and find me. Bitch. (Lol, I could never).
Jack's house is very unlike Jack - which makes sense, given that it is his parent's house. It was very typical white person's house - it had one of those text-printed canvasses from like Kmart. It didn't say "Live Laugh Love" but it was something similar. And a 3d word thing that said "taste" in the kitchen. Y'know. That sort of thing. I met his mum and dad and sister and cousin who all had English accents - I forgot his family's English. Explains his extreme penchant for Stormzy.
Put my bags away (his mum had made Jack's room into a cute lil girl's room where us girls were to stay, and the boys (who outnumbered us immensely) were all camping out in the garage. Then it was time to enter: and there was Jackson, Chay, and Hema, whom I am all friends with, but don't see very often at all. Perhaps let's say acquaintance-friends. They'd arrived together from Canberra at 3pm so they'd been there for a while, and looked pretty tired and excited to start drinking. I'd met Ben, abnd there was few else there yet because it was like 6pm. I sat down sort of awkwardly talking to them: "so, what degree do you do?". This childhood friend of Jack's and his girlfriend came; who already have FULL-TIME JOBS. Which is terrifying. I, being the abhorrent bitch that I am, was very sceptical at first because the girl would, out loud, literally stay stuff like "Oh my god look at that pupper it's so heckin cute". But they turned out to be very nice, and the people us Canberrans stuck with the most that night.
It eventually became Drinking Time. I had some goon-orangejuice-lemonade-vodka punch, but that was about it - partially because I could tell the party wasn't going to be "worth" the calories (smh @ my brain), and because I had to drive the next day and I'm on my green Ps so if I was breath tested and had any alcohol in my system I'd be screwed.
The party went on. More people came. We distinguished 3 different groups of friends: us, the Lodge-esque friends, his "lads lads lads" group of friends from school whose main hobbies were likely drinking, and his smart quiet nerdy engineering friends spanning both Gosford selective school and Canberra. There was a clear divide - as there often is at 21sts. Hema, Jackson, Chay and I mostly talked amongst ourselves with the couple. I learnt way more about Hema, and she I. It was quite nice really. But we really weren't feeling the party. We lasted till about 10:30 (so early I know - but everyone was already getting pissed) and I cited sensory overload (autistism privilege lel) and hid in the bathroom. I'm literally an American movie stereotype. But I was literally chilling sideways in the bathtub in the dark. Hema knocked at some point and said "Sa?" so I came out pretending to be all cheery. Found her lying in on the big mattress in our room for the night and I joined her. My head hurt so bad at this point; it felt like there was a pole going in through one temple and out the other. It was weird being so close to Hema emotionally all of the sudden. It was very nice, but I have this weird thing where I get all squirmy inside at the thought of being tangibly close to certain people. Like, it used to make me squirm to think that I'd been seeing my piano teacher for over 10 years. Anyway we both decided we'd had enough, went downstairs and said goodnight to Jack and friends, and then thanked his parents. God, I felt lame saying good night to Jack and even lamer in front of his parents. They must have thought us such losers. But I got through it and we were in bed by 11. I was exhausted, even though my usual bedtime is around 2. My head hurt so bad and I felt queasy and the bass from the music was pounding my brain so I couldn't sleep. And I thought: is this what it's like to be old? Eventually Congratulations by Post Malone came on, which doesn't have such a strong bass, and I fell asleep to his sweet voice, waking when Chay came in and recounted how Jackson had gotten into a fight (they're dating; she'd been looking after him).
Woke up at about 9 the next day feeling so much better, both physically and psychologically. I think it was knowing that the worst was over. Jack stuck his head in to say his dad was making bacon and eggs on the barbie, and I pulled on my Redemption jumper from Lori over my Clap Your Hands Say Yeah shirt I stole from dad and some target boxers I wear as pyjama shorts (lol this sounds like a Wattpad fanfiction) and Hema and Chay and I went down, collecting hungover Jackson from his lil cave on the way. We sat at a table in the middle of his garden (the lads lads lads / enginerring group further up) and ate bacon and egg sangas in the sun with his dog Alfie meandering around us, talking about random shit like sexist doctors and scenic drives. Jack got his drone, attached to a VR camera whose screen you strap to your face, and it zipped around like a mechanical fly. We were lovingly saying how, knowing Jack, when he finishes building his own drone, he's gonna accidentally fly it in view of some poor changing girl or something and get into a heap of trouble. That's very Jack - cluelessly falling into trouble. We love him for it though.
We lingered in the sun for a while (Jack was already beginning to burn), and then went upstairs to change and get ready. The rest of the CBR gang were going to leave at 12 (Hema had a hot date with a FEMINIST man at 6:30 in Canberra that she was very anxious to look hot for), but I decided to forgo the showers they were taking and leave a bit earlier, at 11:30 (I was worried - in a classic Sa fashion - about it being awkward if our cars were really close but not quite all the way back to Canberra).
I went to get fuel, thinking I'd be pretty empty (my fuel gage AND odometer are broken, so I have no way of telling how much fuel I have lol) but at the gosford Shell station, only needed $10 to fill up the tank - meaning my dad had filled up the tank. Bless him. I don't feel appreciative enough of everything he does for me without even asking. Here's him in the boot fixing the car's antenna on Saturday morning:
The drive was pleasant. As I may have already said, long drives are risky with me because the sound of the tired on the road lulls me to sleep. But I think I cracked the code - I need something to actively think about, like trying to speed a little and slow down when there's the chance of a police car, and overtaking more and shit instead of just staying in one particular motion.
I listened to my EXCELLENT curation of music on my phone, and the new tiny meat gang podcast. I got back at about 4.
I did it. I really didn't, but I did, technically: I drove up the coast, hung out with friends and drank and partied, had a classic hangover breakfast to have in my stomach for the big drive back, where I got to have fun on my own.
I feel very uncool. But something that got me through the night was Peep. He reminded me that it's okay to be socially anxious, it doesn't detract from your worth, and you can still be cool even if your quiet "in the back of the club". In fact, as I was lying with Hema, I said something, and in retort, she said "no, I just think you're really cool". That made me so ineffably happy. And so, as with body dysmorphia (shall we call this personality dysmorphia?), I must distrust my own vision of myself and trust others'. Is that a bad message? Whatever. I'm tired, and humiliated but triumphant, and I still have study to do. Goodnight.
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