Albertine is having a small party tonight. I am invited, and I am attending, and I am nervous. I am trying to manage my expectations, to keep them at zero, since what I really want is to go and have fun and be entertaining to strangers and everything more complicated than that is inconsequential.
These are the questions I ask and answer:
What do I think will happen there? Who knows.
What do I want to happen there? I am not sure.
I am trying to convince myself of these answers. I tell myself these things to assuage my nerves.
I try to remember that I have great power. I avoid consulting my horoscope.
Earlier today, I went to a barbecue at a friend’s house. Everyone was married, with children, with yards and freestanding houses. The talk frequently swayed to household projects, baby details, and “how’s work?” While I do know that Albertine’s party could be fairly painful and awkward, I do know that it will be more interesting than this barbecue, and I am thankful for this. I would rather be tortured by Albertine than made to feel out of step with my peers at another interminable barbecue.
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