stepping out

I sat myself on the couch at about five thirty yesterday evening preparing to read a book. I wore anything but my usual jeans and sweatshirt, and my hair had the look of a soon-to-be-partier. Indeed, I had spent a good deal of time blowing-dry, pinning and curling my hair until it looked the fright that girls call elegant. I had no plans to go out, and my dates were the brothers Karamazov. I found, however, that I couldn't concentrate on Zosima when my hair begged to be taken out.

I immediately texted Emilie. Should I go to Danny's party? She had told me to the day before. However, I was not invited and had none of the information necessary to gate-crash. She never texted back. Instead the land-line rang. Hi, my name is Danny Nelson. We met once before... Wow, Emmers, quick work. With advice from Caitie I changed my outfit and casualized my hair by straightening it in a high ponytail. I even wore mascara.

And then I walked out my door and up to the door of a complete stranger, and into a room where I didn't know a single person. I was brave --and yes a little awkward at first-- but soon I was chatting with perfect strangers about movies, books, and French history. I feigned coolness when Death Cab for Cutie began to play. Joyce gave me their CD just a week ago, and I have learned that if I want to act popular I need to mimic anything Joyce. It worked. I talked to Danny for maybe a total of five minutes, but that didn't stop me from having a good time.

I left about one o'clock and headed home in a state of pride. Although Emilie was disappointed that my evening didn't end in a date invitation, I felt no regrets. I, Audrey, had been successfully social. Dates can wait. What a way to start off the New Year!