I feel terrible, even just typing the words. But those words have been circling around in my brain every since I accepted the invitation.
I don't want to go.
It wasn't like I didn't know the invitation was coming. There was that offhand remark made when she came to drop off the Girl Scout cookies I had bought from her daughter.
"We should get together for dinner and games some Sunday night," she said.
"Sure. That would be fun," I responded. I didn't really mean it, but what else was I going to say? There she was extending an offer of friendship. Who was I to shoot it down? Besides, people say things like that all the time and fail to follow through.
Then the text came. We didn't have plans, no valid excuse to say "Sorry, would love to, but we can't." There was nothing to do but accept.
But this is sooooo not my thing. A friend posted on Facebook yesterday "6 Things Introverts Hate." Every single one of them - crowds, talking on the phone, noise, social gatherings, being told "you're too quiet", small talk- described me perfectly. Yet, here I am now gearing up for an evening filled with noise and small talk at a social gathering of people I don't know well. That's pretty much the definition of hell for me.
So, why am I going, you might ask. The answer is pretty simple. I am going for my son. The woman who invited us is the mother of one of his friends. He has had several play dates at her house, something I've never been good at setting up (see the list above), and they seem like a nice family. My son enjoys spending time with his friend and seeing his face light up when I told him we were having dinner with Michael's family made all the anxiety worthwhile.
I don't want to go. But I will.
Two hours of extreme discomfort seems like a small sacrifice for my son's happiness. And who knows? Maybe I'll surprise myself and have a good time.