I have thrown a lot of parties and get togethers of many different sizes and magnitudes throughout my life. When I was a teen in therapy this fact came out that when I throw a party; no one shows up. So my therapist took this as a challenge. Whether to prove to me that I must be exaggerating- which admittedly depressed souls will do- or to give me a happy successful party experience to reset my counter - well... I'm not sure.
In any event he required me to plan and throw not just one but two successful parties. That was a stipulation in the assignment - YES - they were to be successful.
So with mixed emotions and some guarded fear I set about to plan the first of the two.
My guests, who were all from an enclosed circle of influence, got wind of the assignment. So as kids tend to like to be mean and against all odds and even threat of punishment they plotted against me. All of my guests purposely refused to show up. Not only that but even my therapist forgot to come! And yes, he had been given an invitation; hand-written and hand-delivered like all the rest.
So my life has seemed to continue to follow this path. No matter where in the world my nomadic life has led me, no matter the circle of friends of which I was a member, whenever I have summoned the courage to throw another shindig- with very few exceptions- no one shows up.
But I keep doing it. At one point in my life I even made parties my JOB. Go figure. What could have possessed me? Somehow deep down am I actually doing this to myself? Or am I still trying to utilize the therapeutic direction of my past?
My party career never took off. Self fulfilling prophecies not withstanding- I still throw parties that no one attends.
Today I attended a gathering that was thrown together in less then three days. Almost no one received any reminder to attend, much less an invitation at all. Yet there were hundreds in attendance. Family members, old friends, new friends, colleagues, business acquaintances and even dastardly teenagers. Their were spouses and guests who may never even have met the honoree at all.
How could this be? This gathering put together in less then three days for a man who felt so alone and hopeless that he had even taken his own life? The irony is not lost on my. It strikes a cold fear in my heart.
It makes me ask questions that are none of my business, but I wonder...
De he throw parties?
And if he did did he have good attendance?
Maybe he never did throw parties and didn't know how dearly he was loved.
Maybe he did but he forgot?
Maybe its normal for people to ignore you until your dead?
It's a conundrum to me.
But I wonder, will this party failure that I am haunt me even into death?
I wish that he had been able to see how much he was loved. Maybe he would still be with us.