Christmas Socialization

I have a neighbor who epitomizes the word Hostess. When I think of the word, I think of her and the word always has a capital "H". Her name is Jeanne, and when she told me her age, I did not believe her. She does not act that age. She is a font of energy, a whirlwind of gourmet desserts laced with orange congac and tenderloins broiled to perfection. She'll recommend a good wine or a good book with equivalent ease, and she is most at home facilitating an event where a couple dozen people have a grand ol' time.

Sergey had prior plans the evening of her yearly Christmas party, but I wanted to go. I hadn't been to her yearly party since we first moved to the neighborhood. Saturday night, I put on a nice blouse, collected enough yarn to keep my hands busy all night, and went next door. I was told it was going to be a party of about 35 people. I was greeted at the door by Jeanne and introduced to several people, rapid-fire. I struggle to remember names and faces I don't interact with frequently, and I'm sorry to say I could not hold onto any of the names I initially heard.

I talked for a few minutes apiece with a couple of them, scooped up a glass of water, and found myself a corner. I figured I would sit there, crocheting, and if somebody wanted to join me to talk, that would be good.

I felt a twinge. This year, I've begun the process of confronting areas of my life where I know I still come up short. "I'm not good at socialization," I tell myself. That isn't precise enough. I'm not good at socialization with large groups of people that I don't know. I'm quite good at one-on-one socialization. I had vague impressions of not wanting to mess up, but they were faint. I found myself saying, aloud, "I should at least try."

I tucked my crochet away and stood. I thought I would practice a few aspects of socialization, and that maybe even if I got the overall of it wrong I would get better at the components. I started off with analysis. First, I noticed that in the room I was in, there were three distinct circles of people. Each had 3-5 people talking to each other and the circles sort of overlapped. They could have been one mass, but it was clearly three different conversational clusters. I stood on the edge between two of them, sipping my water and listening to first one, then the other. I'd determined to just listen for a while and see what they were talking about.

My Observer-Only Sociologist days were numbered. A voice next to me said, "You can just tell 'em to get out of the way."

That is how I met my new friend, Ed, who is even more ageless than Jeanne. After I explained that I was not very good at socialization but was practicing by hanging on the edges, we had a good, short conversation, and then he began leading me around and introducing me to people. I was reminded deeply of a high school friend of mine, my polar opposite, who would have done just this with and for me. Sierra knew how to pull just this kind of magic off.

Ed continued introducing me to people until we found some of the neighbors that I already knew. I sort of latched onto them for longer conversation, and Ed drifted away. As I sat down with a plate of snacks and the people I knew, people I didn't know would drift into the conversation one or two at a time. Someone would leave, someone else would enter the circle. I stayed put, engaging whenever I had something to say and listening when I did not.

At some point I thought about leaving, maybe I had done enough "socializing" for the night? I had stretched enough, right? I considered it as I pulled out my crochet work to keep my hands busy.

The lady on my left was fascinated. She watched me work and asked questions. She told me about her sister, who crocheted bedspreads and altar coverings, really intricate pieces. I asked for pictures of her sister's work and traded her pictures of my work on my little Ko-Fi shop. Two or three ladies clustered around my phone as she scrolled through. They stopped on a photo of one hat and the lady asked me if it was for sale? Where? Just on my online shop... did I have the hat handy? When I told them my house was just next door and I could run and get it, they asked me to bring not only that hat, but any other hats I had.

I was low on hats. I had recently given most away to encourage myself to make new ones. I did have a few, though, so I ran next door, scooped up all I had, and ran back to the party.

I am not a center-of-attention person, but that's how you land yourself in the center of attention. I pulled out the hats and immediately people began to put them on with great delight. Then they began to take them into other rooms and put them on other peoples' heads. When some of the wives turned to their husbands with hats, the husbands bailed out of the room fast, but with a great deal of laughter and a feel of fun. "Snowball's chance in hell you'll get me to wear that!"

Whimsy swept the party. I felt the delight of a child playing dress-up spring from person to person. Three people bought hats that night, and I received three commissions.

I did not leave early. I stayed a total of five hours, talking to many different people. I even got to continue conversation with Ed for a while, sending a hat home with him for his wife as a gift and thanks for his advice and his social help. I joined a round of carols sung a bit disjointedly but with enough enthusiasm to mask it all, and ended up bringing my favorite Carol of the Bells into the lineup. When the bulk of people left, there was a circle of about ten people remaining for further conversation. I kept working on my hat and talking until I was exhausted. Only when I was truly tired did I pack up and go home, and reluctantly at that. I had thoroughly enjoyed myself.

I didn't have to be someone I wasn't. I didn't have to pretend I was adept. I just had to stretch a little bit. I had to be willing to try. The evening turned out to be incredible, and one I won't soon forget.