I fancy myself a man of simple tastes. I drink domestics, chew longcut, and will show greater appreciation for a perfectly fried buffalo wing over a well made plate of Duck Confit. I am very much an average joe and I wear that badge with pride. I don’t want that to be mistaken with close mindedness though. I’ll try anything once before I judge it. At the age of 25, I’d like to think I’ve made attempts to expand my horizons. As of last year, I started eating sushi, this year I grew an appreciation for red wine, and last week I even learned what burrata was. (I’m aware that I probably shouldn’t admit that last one) I apply this same attitude towards experiences as well. For example, two years ago my Mom made me go see Jersey Boys with her and I discovered I fucking LOVE musicals. If you haven’t dipped your toe into that water yet, I highly recommend you do; they’re the dopeness.
Even though I have made attempts to venture beyond my generic guy ways, I have been what some would call a late bloomer. But since graduating 4 year ago, I’ve gotten used to the fact that day drinking and bar hopping is reserved for the weekends. It was probably the easiest thing for me to acclimate to. Even when I was 20 I realized that my days of tapping a keg at noon and hosting 100 people in my backyard were numbered. Recently though, I have come to the realization that even though I’m cool with college partying being a distant memory at this point, I suck at normal shit like “wine and cheese” parties.
What do I mean by “wine and cheese?” I’d give you my definition but it’s become apparent that I don’t know jack shit about them. What I’ve learned most recently though is that they consist of a group of less than 15 people who are mostly couples and are far too overdressed to sit in an apartment to drink $8 wine and eat overpriced cheese. I’m not trying to pass judgment here, lord knows I love me a nice gouda. I just don’t feel like these types of events are fit for someone like me.
For starters, I don’t enjoy drinking wine while I’m out. While I have mentioned that I do now enjoy a full bodied red wine, they do not love me back. Getting a nice wine drunk on can be lovely, but that causal buzz won’t last long for me. After about an hour or so of staining my teeth red, I crash and turn into an overgrown baby who just wants his bed and a handful of Prilosec. No one needs to see that. There’s a reason why I only drink wine in my apartment, on weeknights, when I can’t fall asleep. I’ve tried to get around this one, but as it turns out, others will judge you heavily for bringing a case of Budweiser to a Wine and Cheese party even though the boyfriends will be real quick to ask you for a beer once the 3 bottles of Malbec run dry.
I could probably get by at these things if my only gripe was the host’s choice of refreshments, but unfortunately that’s not the case. I’m a loudmouth by nature. I tend not to think before I speak and make the occasional inappropriate joke. Most of the time it works out, but in one of these more “classy” settings I feel like I’m going to get Henry Hill’d the next morning over a poorly received dick joke. My personality is better suited for situations that don’t involve Mozart or Bach to be playing in the background.
I’d like to say I’m just going to give up and refuse to attend any more social functions where a turtleneck is considered acceptable attire, but that would be a load of shit. Unfortunately, I know that as I get older, parties like these will become more and more common. I’m not going to kid myself and believe that I’ll ever become a pro at these types of shindigs, but I wouldn’t mind at least being able to fake my way through them. I already pretend to be responsible for 40 hours a week, so I suppose an extra 3 a month won’t kill me..