Am I Weird for Not Liking Parties?
Anjuna Beach, Èze sur Mer, 2022
Am I weird for not liking parties?
If there’s one thing I know about myself, it’s that I love to dress up. Scrolling through Pinterest, digging through the depths of my closet, and bringing an outfit to life - that’s what makes my soul light up.
So today, on the eve of my first “going out” night of the summer, I dressed my best. The look? A blend of Mary-Kate and Ashley Olsen - very The Row - and I adored it. I felt amazing. Hot. Cool. In my mind, I was the best-dressed person in Mexico City.
But when I arrived, I bumped into a sea of purposefully dirty sneakers, light-wash skinny jeans, and one identical denim jacket worn by every person, as if they’d coordinated a group costume. So not the vibe. I felt overdressed - but I still loved my outfit. I was surrounded by friends I’ve known forever, and yet I wasn’t having fun. It was a party of contradictions, and I couldn’t make sense of the social energy.
So I decided to move on. I transferred my presence into a different universe: another party, a new group of people. But from the moment I walked in, I could feel the shift—the vibes were… excruciating. Words caught in my throat. “Don’t you talk?” seemed to echo in people’s minds. One person even said it out loud.
And I wasn’t angry. I was frustrated. Why couldn’t I speak? What was wrong with me?
Eventually, I listened to the part of myself that had been screaming all night to leave. But instead of heading home, I somehow ended up at yet another party - not quite what my gut had in mind.
This time, the setting felt spiteful. A rave blaring in my ears, puzzled stares greeting my outfit. I wanted to disappear. But something clicked. I remembered what someone once told me: if you begin to draw lines between yourself and others, you create a barrier that keeps you from connecting.
Labelling this group as “spiteful” was a defense mechanism. It made me feel better about not fitting in. But it also guaranteed disconnection. The same logic applies when you idolize a group - if you see them as better than you, you block yourself from showing up as an equal. And if you see them as “lame”? Same story.
So as I stood there, miserable, that thought stopped the spiral. I tried something new: I erased the labels. I decided to be present. After all, there had to be a reason as to why I ended up in this precise room, with this particular group people, at this exact moment. What could I learn from them?
I started to engage. I listened. I discovered a new song. I heard about a great restaurant. I even learned how I never want to make someone else feel. I was open, curious. And still - I wasn’t having fun. None of it felt fulfilling.
Which led me to ask: Do I even like parties? And more importantly: Is it okay if I don’t?
Someone also told me that part of growing up is learning what makes YOU happy. Not every room is going to be YOUR room. So you'd better figure out who you are - truly - so you can start attracting the unique spaces that reflect that.
So what if I don’t like parties?
Maybe I’d rather talk to a stranger at a bar about their day. Or experience culinary thrills over a rich glass of wine. Or play board games at home with the people I love, laughing until my tummy aches.
Am I the only one who thinks those moments - those real connections - are rarely found at parties?
