You know that nightmare you have all the time about throwing a party and then nobody comes but then you wake up and think, That could never happen! At least one person would show up!
Although having just one person come might even be worse than nobody because then that one person sees your humiliation whereas if nobody comes at all, then you can just pretend to all of them that yeah, the party rocked and no, I didn't even MISS you! What do you mean something came up at the last minute? I thought you were there! But yeah it was crazy so I can see how I might have overlooked you.
But with just one person, someone else knows the truth.
Anyhow, you know that neither of those possibilities would ever really happen - that you would throw a party and nobody would come or just one person would come - so then you go on to part 2 of the nightmare which is that you throw a party and don't have enough food for everyone.
Except last night I lived the nightmare.
I threw a party and not one single person showed up.
I didn't think this was possible.
Although maybe it could have something to do with deciding to have a Thursday party on Sunday, distributing invitations on Monday, and not asking for a response because hey, if people are free, they're free and if they're not, they're not and this is totally casual, so show up or not it's just a little thing where I will bake all day Wednesday but whatever.
SH kept asking what if nobody showed up, but he is such a pessimist. I told him that if nobody came, that was just more zucchini bread, macarons, and brownies for us.
Little did I know.
Last night, after I finally turned out the living room lights and put the food away, he asked if I was feeling abandoned.
Oh no. I'm not abandoned. I'm not bitter. I'm not socially scarred from not having been asked to a single high school dance. Or from never going with anyone until I was in college.
Or from my own short-term high-school boyfriend #1 who kissed me once, then told me I tasted like macaroni and he didn't like macaroni and never kissed me again. Sure, he turned out to be gay, which I learned 25 years after the incident. But I wasn't scarred by that.
Or my high school boyfriend #2 who ditched me right before prom and took that ugly redhead in my gym class instead - the one who always asked me how David was before he ditched me and back when we would spend lunch necking behind the chemistry building.
I'm fine. Really.