[ckissick]

I hate idle chit-chat too. I always feel uncomfortable, standing around, beer in hand, silently perusing the crowd, convinced that everyone is wondering why I, of all people, would deign to attend, and thereby destroy, such an awesome party. That sentence had a lot of commas, but you get the idea.

But here's the secret. Find another oddball. Last party, I sat next to a young man with painted fingernails. I asked why he paints his fingernails. He said he wasn't gay, but just liked the way it looked. Why can't a straight man paint his fingernails? We embarked on an hour-long deep conversation about appearances, stereotypes, how women see us, etc. It was like My Dinner with Andre. We were brilliant: riveting. And became more-so with every beer. No idle chit-chat there. When we departed, we hugged, thanking each other for rescuing each other from an otherwise dismal ordeal.