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Surprise parties aren’t really my thing, unless I’m throwing them or the recipient of them.  For everyone else, it’s just stress to me.  Here’s why: I never seem to remember if it’s a surprise or not.

This is probably easily fixed, but that isn’t the point of sharing this little nugget, so we’ll move on to the wanderings of the mind now.  Last chance to disembark.

I find myself talking to the benefactor of said party and begin wondering if I should avoid talking about it or not.  The obvious choice is to keep it secret, keep it safe.  And so I do. I imagined today how this might look to the other person.

If the party is a surprise, then the other person probably isn’t the wiser.  I behave pretty strangely most of the time, so if there is fidgety-ness going on, that’s disregarded, at least in my imagination where my fidgety-ness is both noticed and makes me look particularly awesome, actually, and thank you for going there with me.

I’m often incorrect.  So the party is probably not a surprise.  This seems to lead to junior high style awkwardness where I come across like a 13-year old boy fully realizing that girls are totally awesome and, wow, I hope I put on enough deodorant today.

“Why is he avoiding talking about my party?  What a mean person!”

Yup.  Everyone must think that when I forget that it isn’t a surprise.

So, surprise parties aren’t really my thing.

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