I had an awesome fondue party at my apartment last night, with the folks who went on the DC trip the previous weekend.
Not long after we got back from DC it suddenly hit me that if I seized the moment, I could invite almost a dozen people over to my apartment to hang out, and it would make perfect sense in a way it probably never would again. Add that to my giddy desire to have a fondue party, dating back more than a year, and somehow, it just happened.
The fondue itself, in the logistical sense, went nearly flawlessly, which I am pleased about beyond words. The cheese fondue and the chocolate fondue tasted really good. There was enough for everyone. There were enough dippers for everyone. (There were also, amazingly, enough fondue forks for everyone who wanted one at any given time, despite the fact that of the eleven of us, ten were there for at least part of the evening.) There was a sufficient variety of dippers to impress and please people, and everyone had things they liked to eat. All of the dippers were close enough to the proper consistency to (mostly) stay on the forks. Other than those few minutes when I started to believe that the cheese stuck to the bottom of the pot would never come off so we could get the chocolate in, it was practically perfect. I felt like an amazingly competent party host, and I was very proud.
But as cool as that was for me... it wasn't really what the party was about. It was about a whole group of people sitting around, none of us knowing the others too well, and rambling and laughing until the early hours of the morning. It was about being loose enough to tease eachother and take some ridicule ourselves. It was about the awkward silences that keep resurfacing every once in a while when a group isn't too used to interacting together yet, and about riding them out and moving on. It was about kisses on the cheek when the dippers fell off in the fondue pot, and the boys playing with their spears, and staring contests, and trailing off into incoherence by 2am but still not leaving. It was about a feeling of comfort and peace sharing my living room with these people.
It wasn't anything profound. It wouldn't be weird if we end up getting together more often, but it also wouldn't be weird if we never coalesce as a group again. We were just a bunch of folks spending a Saturday night together because it happened to work out that way. But even though it wasn't much, it was plenty for me. I haven't enjoyed relaxing and being silly in a group of people like that in probably two years. I would be sad if it all ends here, if not because of the experiences so far, then because of the potential.
There are groups, and then there are individuals. Kyle and I had a good talk on IM last night after the party, and it makes me happy to know that some people are willing to bear with me despite my awkward bumbling through the process of trying to become friends. I think there is a lot we have in common, although he may not know it yet. Then there is Lexi, with whom I probably don't have much in common at all, but she is a very sweet girl and I'd like to get to know her better anyway. Seema is very nice as well, but she is graduating, and so my heart, naturally, holds back. I'm not sure how the others would fit with me on their own; but I know they fit very well in the group, in general. And you need some of both.
I'm rambling, now. It's okay. I'm just glad that every once in a while I get frustrated enough with the status quo that I wake up and start pushing myself, taking risks, doing the things that scare me. Because I am happy with where it takes me, even if I wobble and am unsteady along the way. It's easy to feel stable when you're not moving.
