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Letters To No One From A Retired Party Girl

I loved the parties, my god, I did. At no one point did I think I would ever quit. Not even in my best nightmare. I loved everything about partying; I loved the way people are happy even in dingy barrooms. I loved the honesty, rawness and vulnerability after a little liquid confidence. I think am obsessed with human emotions. That should explain why I write about human emotions; Love, hate, indifference etc. I’m fascinated by human behavior and generally the human race. all this things are raw at 2 a.m in a non alcoholic night and anytime after 11p.m in barrooms. I loved how a total stranger could tell you their secret and you might never see them again but you will walk away with a part of them they hide from the world forever( I love collecting stories and the next best thing after books. The Good Book included is anywhere alcohol is served. ) I love how girls took care of each other in clubs bathrooms. You will fully appreciate being female in that damn bathroom I promise. There’s some about drunk bathroom moments that is too good to be true.
There was a year I was off alcohol read pretended to not drink because I desperately wanted someone to stay in my life. It didn’t work , they married someone else. Pretend for it. In retrospect, that was an interesting year, I partied as much just without touching alcohol. That was the year I learnt to dance in public sober and I collected more stories. It was fun turning down free drinks though my girls will disagree… I have never turned down a free drink because no one ever offered. The only free drinks I ever had were from friends which BTW they are never entirely free. Or the ones I stole from parties when they let me make their cocktails.
I found a way to feed my quest of capturing human emotions that does not involve barrooms. Healthier ways, even. There was nothing left for Me there now. Now I’m no longer a party girl just a girl who sometimes shows up for parties, because, somehow, in a sleep induced haze or in an uncaffeinated moment of weakness I might have agreed to show up. I still have a modestly enough good time it’s not entirely painful. Though I would rather sleep in and read a book. I still force people to take shots. If you made me dress up instead of sleeping in, you better shove shots down your throat until you start puking. It’s called good Karma. Duh
Do I miss the parties? Hell yes. Do I want to go back? Hell No. I had my fill now am over it. Unless the joint has fine coffee and Wi-Fi, then honey, I can be persuaded. Otherwise , it’s a definite No. There was a time when all it took was a promise of alcohol and I was grabbing lipstick, fixing my hair, showering even, rocking heels and doing the tiniest of mini skirts. Daddy’s issues, I know,Right? I mean am all legs but I used not to let an opportunity to flaunt my legs pass by. No. I was never raped, they lied to us that if you wear miniskirts you will be sexually assaulted. Rapists will come after you with or without mini skirts. That’s beside the point,anyway, even though there’s no point. These days even a promise of good Wi-Fi sometimes doesn’t seem to cut it.
I don’t know what happened to me. I always did hate human touch though I enjoyed interacting with humans. Now I can’t even handle talking on phone with more than three people per day….and family is not on that list, let’s stick to the once in two weeks or wait for family reunion, 25th of December is such a good time to catch up. I missed last year’s Christmas, this year I promise to show up, okay,?I feel old. Partying feels like a real job. damn!
For a party girl out there. Keep doing it. You will have the best stories when the party is over. I promise.
Honestly, I forgot where I was going with this. There’s no point.


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