I was at a work party last night - an end of year celebration, a corporate gathering.
The first question?
Where’s your other half / wife?
They changed the rule on allowing spouses because not enough people signed up.
I didn’t bring Laura because I really don’t know how to behave publicly on my own - let alone with my her in tow.
I mean, how does one deal? How do you do such things - show up and socialize with people one only partially knows with your partner - someone who doesn’t know or have any connection with the people there at all.
This sentiment might surprise some given the nature of the work I’ve done.
But working, no matter what - whether I were a wedding DJ, waiter, the rapist or tour guide, I’d always have a reason to be there - I was getting paid. And? I’d always have something to do and a reason to interrupt a conversation to go off and be alone.
I didn’t have time to be socially awkward. I was busy.
It’s so liberating having something to do.
But at this event where all I had to do was connect with and enjoy my coworkers?
Fuck me.
I was lost.
I started making jokes and randomly sprinting off from one pocket of people to the next.
We were at a car museum. There was a Lamborghini Countache there. I just wanted to lick it. That’s what I told my coworkers. I just wanna lick it.
Then to another group?
I called it what Laura and I like to jokingly call it - a Lamborghini Poon-tang.
Some laughed but there was one lady with a fuzzy face who did not. She seemed to have suffered far more than the rest of us from the burdens caused by gravity. The very basic principals of physical existence seemed tiresome to her.
I love my job but how the fuck did I end up here?
It was puzzling to me.
I wished Laura were there with me. Then I’d have my coconspirator. We’d be able to sit at the back of the room and make cutting and sarcastic comments about all of the people there.
Only without her?
I couldn’t.
Then?
I saw that enough people had left prior to me.
I said my goodbyes.
People told me that I was great.
I loved that part.
The listening to others and trying to act normal?
That was difficult.
But being told that I was great?
I quite enjoyed that.
But then?
Then I got home slept AND THEN?
Then I woke up having slept for like maybe thirty minutes only to have a joke flash before my very eyes:
Lamborghini Poon-tang.
Fuck.
My mind began racing.
And the motherfucker was running like a fat guy at a marathon, all slow and steady and bleeding nipples from wearing the wrong shirt.
What if that lady complains to HR about me? She seemed really uncomfortable, But then again so was I.
I began to analyze in minute detail every single interaction I had there that night.
And then?
I did it again.
And again
And again.
I got up today exhausted and paranoid.
But dear reader, I am proud to say that no one from HR has reached out to me.
Yet.
But my mind’s still racing.
And if it has to race, don’t let it move and sound like a fat man running a marathon.
Instead?
I’d rather move like a Lamborghini Poon-tang.
Vroom Vroom you fools
.