An Open Thank-You Note to the Godsend Dog/Child at that Unbearable Party, From Me, the Anxious Introvert Who Didn’t Want to be There
Dear Serendipitous Dog and/or Child,
Thank you. Thank you for simply existing within the walls of that godawful party I begrudgingly attended on Saturday night. I truly appreciate you keeping me company when I wanted to get the fuck away from all of my annoying adult human peers. I’m eternally grateful for your companionship. In fact, I’m always thankful when any child or dog is present at parties. I’d like to express and explain my utmost gratitude.
When I first see that dogs or kids are present at parties, I’m automatically relieved of being the biggest “misfit” there. Immediately, I take comfort in the fact that I’ll be less judged for being “different”; I mean, at least I’m an adult human being. Plus, kids and dogs don’t judge me or whisper that I’m “kinda weird.” They don’t inquire why I still haven’t proposed to my fucking girlfriend yet, which DOUBLY pisses me off since she’s the one who always drags me to these things. Kids and dogs don’t force small-talk about work, or offer me a beer, yet again, when I’ve been sober for three whole years now, forcing me to say, “No thanks,” and then responding with, “Come on, man! Live a little!” thus causing more internal panic because I know that re-explaining my alcoholism will “kill the mood.” Kids and dogs don’t think it’s normal to STAND, all night, instead of sitting, for some stupid social reason that I’ll never understand. Kids and dogs don’t ask me to move my car when someone else needs to leave, inflicting envious anguish upon me, because why does THAT dickhead get to leave and I don’t?! So yeah. Kids and dogs don’t do ANY of that shit.
If there’s a child at a gathering, the kid will walk up to me to ask me my name and if I like dinosaurs. I’ll tell her my name and say YES, obviously, I LOVE dinosaurs. So, she’ll ask me if I want to see her project about fossils, and I’ll say OF COURSE. Then, we’ll SIT DOWN on the couch together, and I’ll get to read along while she tells me all about the Brontosaurus, and the Stegosaurus, and the Triceratops, and everything they ate, and precisely how big they were, and that they are “a stink” (extinct) now, and how archaeologists found their bones. Then she’ll tell me that she even knows how to spell archaeologist. I’ll smile and nod as she recites: “A-R-C-H-E- oops, wait! I mean A! E-O-L-O-G- ummm… then… I-S-T! Archaeologist!” Then some adults will wander over for a bit to say “Awwww!” and comment on how cute the kid is, and, likewise, how cute I AM for playing with her. They’ll say how “good” I am with kids. See? I get to talk about dinosaurs, or do whatever the fuck the kid wants to do, which is always better than standing around fake chuckling and saying, “Good times!” in response to worn-out *remember when* stories from college, or sullenly watching my girlfriend steadily get too drunk, and therefore, too loud. So THANK YOU, Kid, again, from the bottom of my heart, for saving my evening.
Then, there’s dogs. Dogs also possess the distinct ability to liberate me from misery at these never-ending soirees. Firstly, dogs don’t talk; all they want is attention. So, I’ll get to relax on an ottoman with a sweet chocolate lab and gently scratch his head. His fur will feel so soft. Or, if the pup is feeling playful, I’ll get to sit criss-cross applesauce on the floor and play tug-of-war with him and his rope toy. Or, the BEST POSSIBLE party scenario could happen. This scenario exclusively involves dogs as they need to go OUTSIDE to pee. SO, if I offer to walk the dog, this means I’ll ALSO get to go outside! Albeit temporary, I’ll get to LEAVE! The dog owner will be thrilled. After all, having to walk the dog himself means ending his conversation, finding his coat, asking his wife for the leash, and so on. Meanwhile, I’d love nothing more than to do all that. I’ll elongate the walk as long as I can; dogs LOVE long walks. I’ll make it long enough that people will know I gave the dog a decent walk, but not so long that they’ll question where I am or why I’m being “antisocial again.” If the family has a fence and a ball, we’ll also play fetch in the yard. The party-goers will gawk out the window and say, “Awwww!” yet again, and point out how “good” I am with dogs too. So truly, Dog, thank you. It was a real blessing having you around at that wretched shindig.
So in conclusion, Dog and/or Child, I am forever indebted to you both. Our idyllic interactions have taught me something. From this point forward, I’ll scope out all future guest lists to deduce ahead of time whether at least one kid or canine will be in attendance, and if that’s a no-go, then so’s the party! I’ll tell my girlfriend I have explosive diarrhea, but that I hope she has “a blast” without me, and to try not to drink too much wine. I’ll say it a thousand times over, Dog/Child: Thank you.
With deepest appreciation,
That Dinosaur-loving,
Tennis-ball-throwing,
Weird,
Antisocial,
Introvert
Kerry Webster Reynolds is a Massachusetts Creative Writing teacher who writes her own stuff sometimes. Words: Points in Case, The Belladonna, Slackjaw, The Daily Drunk, etc. Follow her! @KWebbyRey. Really. She’s new to Twitter and gets V excited about followers.