Where have all the parties gone?

It occurred to me recently that I don't go to parties like I used to.

For the majority of the time I lived in New York, and even the first year or two I lived out here, I'd have a party of some sort to attend nearly every Saturday night. Sometimes it was a friend's birthday; often, it was a stranger's gathering. But Fun! Single! Girls! were always welcome, and Fun! Single! Guys! were always there.

I don't know when, exactly, it happened, that Fun! Single! Guys! turned into The One Single Guy Who's Balding and Unemployed. Or when raucous parties started dwindling in general, my married friends opting for birthday dinners or afternoon delights. Even I, the Fun! Single! Girl! started making plans according to that preference, as evidenced by my last birthday which started at 4:00 in the afternoon.

I miss my old social life. Not the drinking and getting drunk part, exactly, but the sense of adventure - who will I meet/see tonight? What good stories will come out of it? How amazing do I look in my new sample sale jeans?! I used to plan my Saturdays around shopping for a party outfit, going to the gym, and consuming as few calories as humanly possible. It sounds shallow and juvenile and lacking in self-esteem; yet, when I knew there were boys out there for the flirting, I never felt more confident in my life.

Somehow, that's all changed. I'm (extremely) fortunate to still have plans every weekend I want them, but they usually consist of girls' dinners or dinner parties or grabbing a quick drink at the local pub. If I ever do have random run-ins, it's almost never with cute single guys - their wives or girlfriends are always in tow. It's so rare that I leave the house thinking I'll have anyone to impress, I'll often let my hair look limp and forgo the skimpy shirts in lieu of billowy blouses. And with a closet more billowy than bodacious, it' no wonder my body has started filling out the blanks.

Without the availability of single men to motivate me, I've noticed, I've felt much less flirty and way more frumpy. And it has done a number on my self-confidence. Maybe I'm plain according to Hollywood standards or am too old, myself, to fit into the scene out here, but its rare that, when there is a party, I feel capable of turning heads.

This post was not intended to be a pity party. (Although, hey - party!) By all accounts, I still feel like I'm pretty freaking fabulous, if a bit miffed by the idea that no one of the opposite sex seems to. What I had meant to write was that I haven't been to a party in months, and last night I was invited to two.

The first was an NBC premiere party for My Own Worst Enemy. Even though this was technically a work event and I wasn't expecting to meet any single men, I was excited at seeing Christian Slater. Former teenage Hollywood heartthrobs, though not likely to pay me any attention, are still reason to get gussied up, in my book.

I was also excited to finally go to Craft, even though we just mostly sampled passed hors d'oeuvres. I ate my weight in cheese puffs and mini pizzas since, you know, billowy. Baby doll dresses can not go out of style fast enough.

Then we headed north to a party in the Hollywood Hills. This was the party I was looking forward to, as I knew it would be a mix of fun, single people my age. And it was, I guess. But it was lacking... something. The soundtrack was low key, not upbeat. No one seemed interested in mingling, at least not with us. But mostly, the house, while jaw-droppingly impressive, was almost too big for the amount of people there. Rather than be filled it energy, it seemed to call attention to the empty space.

At least the view was pretty amazing.



I wish I had the same outlook on my social life.