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I used to have this weird little concept I used a bunch when I was pretending to be all advanced-for-my-years. I called it a mental papercut, though I guess the more apt term would by psychological papercut, but then that contains the word "psycho" and let's face it, this is not a term most people would like to apply to themselves.

A papercut is such a little thing, really. A teensy slice of the epidermis that usually doesn't even bleed that much. But it sure stings like hell. So apply this to a psychological context.

Tonight, as nearly every night, I was wrapping up my shift at the restaurant, cleaning up around my tables and waiting for the "closer" (waiter who's staying until everything's done so signs everyone out) to sign my clock out slip, I overheard the closer asking one of the newer waitresses if she was going to Threes tonight with the rest of the group after work. They usually do that kinda stuff every night- some club or bar or all-night-restaurant they meet at about half an hour after everyone's left the Grill and had time to change. I've heard people be invited several times.

Note that phrasing. Heard people be invited. Now before I continue, think about that and you might see where the papercut lies.

It's really silly, as I keep reminding myself, especially since upon thinking about it I know I probably wouldn't go. I'm usually too tired, I don't drink regularly (or at all in unfamiliar company) and I don't feel all that close to most of the people, and I'd feel awkward. I'd either wonder why on earth I went, or leave early, or both.

But why wasn't I invited?

There's still that chance I could surprise them, right? That chance I could open up and they'd realize that there's a pretty cool person under the curly hair, too-big collared shirt and glasses.

Oh well. I've never pretended to be a party girl, and most people assume that about me before they ever even meet me, and I've been told my face is so extremely expressive that people often know how I'm feeling before I do. So they must read me and decide I wouldn't want to go, anyway.

I'll let you decide how much of a comfort that is.

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