Stand-Up

Day 321 (45) – Sup Home-y

I hit another “you’re kind of an adult now” milestone today.  A fellow recent hire of mine (same age, we started about the same time, also went to the same great school), had a gathering, or “party” at his fine home this evening, and was incredibly adult-like.  There were a variety of appetizers and desserts brought by various guests, plenty of nice drinks, classy music fluttering in the air.

This wasn’t the first time that I’d been to such a party, though I do admit a majority of the fiestas I’ve attended in recent years have been closer to the White Trash one awhile back.  But what made this a milestone was that it was thrown and attended by my peers.  This wasn’t one of my parent’s parties that I went to, or an older friends; this was someone my age.

And don’t misinterpret that to mean it wasn’t fun – I had a blast.  It was great talking to folks, enjoying good conversation, playing Bohnanza (much more fun than it sounds).  It’s just a little weird to have those experiences that signal you’re growing up (like when you’re tall enough to ride the Vortex, you pay for your own insurance, or someone calls you “sir” for the first time).

I do have to say that I am a tad bit mad at the host though.  Again, this is a guy about my age, started about the same time as me at work, and yet he somehow has a very spacious house, with each room nicely decorated.  He’s setting the bar way too high.  He’s giving people the idea that we (singles guys in mid-twenties) could all potentially have places like that, screwing us when our lazy efforts pale in comparison (kind of like how Romance movies/novels give girls unrealistic expectations about how we’re supposed to swoon her off her feet).  I could never take a girlfriend to his place, because I’d only be hearing about how nice it was, and how crappy my place was (in fact some of the married couples there this evening were jealous of the bachelor’s pad).

And the thing is that I couldn’t even have that type of decorating style if I wanted to.  I can’t sit in an empty room and think, “You’d know what’d look great here: brown walls, a bronze statue and a Mexican painting.” (Note: By “Mexican Painting” I meant a painting with a Mexican theme/picture, not an actual Mexican in the act of painting).   I look in a room and think, “Well stuff could fill this space, I guess let’s just see where the boxes end up.”

So thanks a lot, pal, for setting the standard so high and making me feel bad that it took me 14 months to hang some pictures in my current residence.