Party

When I worked for a bank they had a Christmas party every year in the
Selfridges Hotel. I am never very good in party situations. When there are lots
of people moving about and talking, I don't know how to approach people. I
can't start conversations. My mind goes blank. I have nothing to say that
doesn't sound clunky. I always used to cling to somebody I know - until they
manage to escape. Then I'd be stuck on my own, feeling stupid because I
have nothing to do and yet I have to stay there.

One Christmas after I had worked there two or three years I suppose, the
team I had worked with had gone and there was no one I was much close to
at work. I found myself even more isolated at the party than usual, sitting
alone and in silence for a long time, feeling foolish, out of place, unwanted.

The fact that it was Christmas made it worse. I didn't seem to be connected
to anyone. No one saw me. No one wanted to talk to me.

After a while I decided to cut my losses. I slipped away. Who would notice? I
looked around at all the people - laughing, talking, animated. Why was I not
like them? Why was I excluded?

I took the train to Pat's, thinking of these things, feeling cold and alone. I had
a doorkey so I let myself in. I trod silently up the carpeted stairs in the half
light. Eased my way into Pat's bedroom. Slid out of my clothes and slipped
into the bed beside him. With his eyes still closed, as if in his sleep, he
turned and held me. Smelling of human warmth.