Misfit?

It has been a long time since I went to a party. Really long. And I don't mean cocktails or a social dinner or a small cosy gathering of friends. I haven't been that antisocial. I find myself spending most weekends in reading and reflection. I ponder over what is and what can be. I meet few people and then mostly those with whom I feel I can have a meaningful interaction...which I quite look forward to. It is time, I feel, spent in crystalising ideas that may benefit fellow homo sapiens some day...though the jury is still out on that. So when confronted with the prospects of a party - and I mean a real party ... with music, dancing, drinking, socialising ... The 3am cab ride back home. And rocks in the head next morning. A wasted Saturday. The works! Now that stops me dead in my tracks.

I realised this when recently a friend of mine invited me to one and I got all squirmy and fidgety. I asked her why she would bother calling me. But she still persisted and ... a couple of reminder smses later ... just when my protest would be expected to wane in the face of strong headwind ... I found myself even more adamant and determined to stay away from any form of revelry. Politeness would have meant declining with the usual partyline (pun unintended) "Oh, we would have sooo loved to be there but had this prior commitment to spend an evening with a friend's 88 year old grandmother who has been abandoned by her debauched progeny. She is soooo lonely and it will break her fragile heart if we dont show up. Damn!!"

No sir. I would not lie my way out of this (or for that matter anything else) and plainly stated that I had really no interest in being in a party.

I would rather spend the evening in the company of man's best friend. And here I am referring to Single Malt Whisky. A true companion that ages elegantly and remains ever loyal.

Which is exactly what I am doing right now.

Just when the party must be cranking up .

'Cos the invitation was for tonight.

Guilty?? Hmmm...

After all, it is her son's birthday. She has called her friends in Singapore to provide joy and cheer to the boy who spends majority of the year in a boarding school. I wish him well for a long and fruitful life. I find solace knowing that a recluse like me would anyway not be a great influence on such young, impressionable minds. Let them just meet normal, happy human beings.

What causes me to shy away from such forms of - what would be considered by most - simple joys and pleasures of modern existence??

Misfit, aren't I??