I came really, REALLY close to not going yesterday.
Having enumerated my reasons, and with the visual imprint of my blog post emblazoned on the inside of my eyelids...well...I just had to go through with it.
There were so many people that the crowd spilled out onto the sidewalk, with drinks in their hands, some with silly holiday hats on, everyone with a name tag stuck to them.
I parked around the corner in an inconspicuous spot. I finished putting my makeup on. I called my husband for a last-minute shot-in-the-arm boost of confidence. I needed him to say, "...'atta girl! Go get 'em! You're great!"
Me: Hey...I'm still in the car. I need you to tell me I'll be great and to go in there and it'll be fun and I have nothing to worry about 'cause I rock. You know, go get 'em, you're the best, rah rah, something along those lines.
Me: I suddenly have cold feet and I need you to cheer me on. I hate walking into these things alone. Just tell me I'm awesome or something.
Him: (barely intelligible) you're-awesome-or-something-or-whatever-you-said
Me: yeah, okay, whatever, thanks.
So I hung up and got out of the car and walked around the corner, through the crowd into the event. Signed a bunch of sign-in sheets. Met the executive director. Talked to the main person I wanted to talk to, made sure she knew I had attended. Met another board member, got his business card. Ate and drank nothing. Left early.
One thing I know: events such as that are why the flask was invented. For people like me.
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