Cool?

When I first moved, every person I knew in San Francisco gave me the number of someone they knew in New York. "You HAVE to meet so-and-so. So-and-so is so cool, you’d get along great."

And for the most part, they’ve been right. I have contacted many a so-and-so, friend-of-a-friend, and they've all been cool. And I'm cool. So of course, we did get along great, as promised. Friends of cool friends are always, well, cool.

Last night I went to meet a new so-and-so that I had been emailing with but had not yet had the pleasure of meeting. This friend-of-a-friend, who will henceforward be referred to as F.O.A.F., invited me out to an art opening and live music show. "It'll be fun," FOAF emailed. "I know the singer and the painter. They're very cool and it’s hosted by this hip production company. I'll meet you there around 7:30." Hooray, more cool people.

So I abandoned my plans of coming home to play with iMovie on my laptop and instead ventured off to the 5th Ave to meet cool, new people. I arrived at 7:10 and was a little hesitant to enter a party where I knew no one. But I thought, "Audrey, you're an adult. You can go into this party by yourself. You can meet people. You're cool."

So I entered the party. I grazed at the food table. I sipped some wine. I examined the paintings on the wall. Grazed at the food table again. Sipped more wine. Examined the paintings again. Grazed. Sipped. Examined. Grazed. Sipped. Examined. And then came to a realization. I am NOT cool. I’m not shy, I’m a friendly, outgoing person, BUT I can't just go up and talk to random people at a party. Maybe if I had some friends as back-up? Maybe if I had any context to be there? Maybe if I knew ANYONE on the entire East side? Or even the name of the people throwing the party. I didn't even know the person I was meeting there. She was just a random FOAF that could have been anyone of the thirty people that we're now staring at me as I stood awkwardly in the middle of the room.

So I did the only mature thing to do. I hid in the bathroom. I regrouped in front of the mirror. I reapplied my lip gloss. "Other people are waiting for the bathroom," I told my reflection. "You are a new resident of a fabulous new city. Now you go out there, and you make some friends!"

So I returned to the party. The overly loud, under crowded, excessively lit party. Where I grazed. I sipped. I examined. It was 8pm. FOAF was half an hour late. I'd been feeling like a loser for 50 minutes. I was ready to leave. I must have been sending out my loser beam because low and behold, one came up to talk to me. He was short. He was dorky. He stood too close and shot little balls of spit into my face when he spoke. But he rescued me from my misery. He was my new best friend.

He idled up awkwardly, "So… you know the singer?"
"No. I don't know anyone here."
"Are you waiting for someone?"
"Yes. But she's not here yet. I don't think. I don't really know what she looks like. I've never met her."
"Oh. So you don't know anyone here and you don't know the person you're meeting."
"Uh, yeah."
"Do you want to meet some of my friends?"
"Yes. Please."
He walked me over to his band of losers. "Jason, Bonnie, Clifford, Dave, this is Audrey. She doesn't have any friends."
(I'll admit that sometimes I rewrite conversations for effect, but that is word-for-word how he introduced me, "This is Audrey, she doesn't have any friends.")
There was an awkward silence.
The tall guy, Clifford(?) looked at my questioningly, "Like, at this party, or in New York?"
"No, I don't have any friends in general. I'm really unpleasant to be around."
Silence.
"That was a joke."
"Oh."
Pause. Pause. Pause.
"So you wanna get some more wine?"
"Yes."

Three glasses of wine later, FOAF finally showed. Despite her tardiness, she was, in fact, cool. And we did, in fact, get along great. I even introduced her to my new "friends."

With my newfound friends around me and a few glasses of liquid courage nestled warmly in my tummy, I finally felt confident. I even went up to the cutest guy at the party and struck up a conversation. He gave me his card and told me to email him. Look at me and my mad social skills! Maybe I am cool after all. I just need a little back-up.