Dinner party vegetarian checkmate

I was reminded of the following situation today, it’s been a while since I went to a dinner party and I would be perfectly happy if I never went to another one in my life. Who thought this demented torture up and does anyone truly like the things? The person throwing it doesn’t get a break as they are constantly up and down all evening. The timings get thrown off, someone usually cancelled or drags along extra people, then everyone gets sozzled and can’t even remember it. Being sober at a dinner party is particularly vile, you sit there as everyone else gets slowly more and more brain damaged and incoherent. So many people think that drinking either makes them more fun, funny, or more exciting. It doesn’t, it makes you a twat, end of. 

There is one thing that is worse than being the only non drinker at a dinner party and that is being the only vegetarian, so much so that I refuse to do it anymore. There was a particularly poisonous  situation that kept happening to me at one point that I have named dinner party chess and this is how it works…

Your partner has a friend, let’s call them for ease of recognition “Twat 1”. 

“Twat 1, has invited us ’round for dinner, it’s next Friday.”

Me, “erm, OK…” That translates as “well, that’s that evening buggered up but if it makes you happy I guess I don’t have any choice.”

This is on the Monday night, come Tuesday there is a call… ” twat 1 has invited twat 2 as well, just to make the numbers up, I hope that is ok.”

Me (wincing) “I guess….” You can hear your partners tone changing as the words come out of your mouth.

“It’s really nice of her to ask us over….” This translates as “don’t you dare pull out, you are already regarded as a weirdo amongst my friends.”  

My silence denotes my reluctant acquiescence.

Wednesday comes and I’m chatting away with my partner and, like the small print of a legal document, slipped the words ” oh!twat1hasinvitedtwats3,4,5and6becausetwat2mentioneditonfacebookandtwat1didn’twanttoputanyone’snoseoutofjoint” into a sentence, my heart sinks as I can see where this is heading. My stony silence says what I’m thinking, which is that the likelihood of me attending has gone down greatly as I tot up the twat quota. My partner changes the subject quickly and I pretend I haven’t heard while they pretend they haven’t said anything.

Thursday comes and there it is, “oh! Twats 7-12 are coming too now” then there is a pause… “And as you are the only vegetarian, twat 1 has decided to cook beef Wellington, they figured it would be easier if you just brought along a pizza.”

This is where I suddenly become the bad guy…

What I want to say is this…

“This is the sixth time that obnoxious cunt has pulled this stunt. Perhaps I should also have a little high chair, a melamine plate and you cut my food up for me? How about a little spill proof sippy cup for me to have my juice out of whilst you all neck back copious bottles of wine? When will it dawn on you what a nasty fucking game your mate is playing? You know full well how controlling they are and they can’t bare you having a boyfriend and they are doing this to cause tension between us and put her in a dominant position and make me look bad.”

What I really say is “ok, just go without me.” And that is what happens and of course that is another weekend alone while everyone else recovers from a monumental hangover.  All of that for what? A bit of crappy food, some boring conversation and some wine, I couldn’t think of anything more tedious.

And it still goes on, wars being fought accross tables all around the world over menus and seating plans as tin pot hitlers conduct subtle wars of attrition over stuff that will end up going down a toilet bowl. Surely it should have been put in the Geneva Convention? Surely this constitutes are cruel and unusual punishment?


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