The dinner party is the first step in one's transition from young adult to adult. Others like to get married and raise a family, but I'd rather save my money and pull out. The term dinner party confused me at first. When I hear the word party I generally expect some sort of drinking game involving ping pong balls and intoxicated women french kissing. I was mistaken. Apparently, these types of activities are looked down upon at dinner parties. Start taking notes, folks.
Dinner parties also start a bit earlier than the parties I am used to attending. Most start around 7 P.M., which is right in the middle of my second nap of the day. Oh, the things I do for friends. One is also expected to bring some sort of hors d'oeuvre, which I am fairly confident I will never be able to spell correctly without the assistance of Google. A bag of Ruffles probably will not suffice, so I usually just ask a gay guy at Safeway for advice. If you have a significant other, it is customary to bring them with you and not just try to "holler at bitches when you get to the party." Again, activities that should be avoided at a dinner party.
Dress is another aspect that may cause confusion for some. Most people like to dress up and wear something nice. I guess stores are now selling these things called "blazers" which one wears over a nice V-neck shirt with slacks or nice jeans. You know, the same get-up the dudes from The Hills wear when attempting to win the affection of any of those tramps. I personally would rather wear a t-shirt with curse words displayed, but I make sacrifices for the ones I care about.
Once I get to the dinner party I make sure to firmly shake the male host's hand and joke about the stock market or another issue I know nothing about. When the female host greets me, I shun her since she should be in the kitchen cooking, not fraternizing with guests. Just kidding. I give her one of those cheek kisses that I still can't perfect without looking like a weirdo. For some reason, the dinner part of the party is never ready when you arrive, no matter how many times you mention it to others a few decibels too loud. During this time you're forced to have various conversations with the rest of the guests. These conversations usually involve literature or art, and very rarely come upon the subject of irrumatio. Before leaving for the dinner party, I vigorously search the definitions of big words that I can later use at the party to impress guests and garner applause. It's difficult to casually insert the word "iatromathematical" into a conversation about french films, but I enjoy a challenge.
Once dinner is served, I remember what my mom told me about "eating like a big boy." I try not to slurp my noodles and refrain from creating art out of mashed potatoes. Blowing bubbles is considered rude by most and curly straws are not acceptable for wine glasses, no matter how you argue it. Quiet conversation and occasional compliments about the food are customary. If I dislike the entree because it has gross vegetables, I try to distract the guests by pointing at a painting and comparing it to Rembrant's later works while I spit my food into a linen napkin. I also try to fit in questions for the host and hostess. Asking the year of the wine is a valid question, inquiring about the size of Diane's breasts as a follow-up question is not.
After everyone has finished eating, try not to confuse the African American guest returning from the restroom as "the help." Telling him that you are pretty sure he wasn't invited just digs you a deeper hole as well. Once the female host has finished cleaning up the dishes the black man refused to help with, discussions about intellectual topics usually resumes. By this point, I usually allow my significant other to speak, only to later regret it. She will try to be humorous and joke about how "our relationship is pretty much over anyway" and that she "has always found black men attractive" when she thinks I am in the other room. Obviously her sense of humor is critically flawed.
Sometimes a game is played after dinner to loosen people up, and unfortunately it is never a game I prefer or am accomplished at. I tried my best not to yell at Diane, but who the fuck doesn't have an XBOX? Once I calmed myself down I was ready for a non-video game. The game of choice was Pictionary, which becomes ironically cool once you reach your mid-twenties for some ridiculous reason. What my date lacked in humor, she made up for in Pictionary skills. After winning six games in a row I mocked the rest of the
Towards the end of the night, we all made a toast to friendship and health or something, I wasn't really paying attention, mostly staring at Diane's breasts. People started to politely gather their coats and head for the door. My date tried to be funny again by pretending to go home with the African American gentleman. I, on the other hand was not ready to leave since it wasn't even midnight yet, and I was only partially buzzed. I have found that staying until everyone but the hosts have left and watching television while complaining about the lack of beer is not found to be amusing by any standard. Neither is pretending to leave and then hiding in their bedroom and scaring them.
After the police kindly escorted me out, I said my good byes to the hosts and made my way home. Diane and Jim joked about how I made a mockery of their dinner party and was never invited back into their home. All in all, I think I like these dinner parties, and hope to get invited to another one soon.