sechan19 | In which I realize how old-fashioned I am.

I attended the IUC Thanskgiving Party on Friday night. (This wasn't an official Thanksgiving party, mind you, just something put together by the Center's MVP.) During the party's initial stages, something rather amusing happened.

I went through the line for food early (intent as I was on managing to score some of the bacon-cheddar mashed potatoes, which were awesome) and then took a station at the other end of the room to allow other folks a chance to dig in unhindered. There were some 40+ people in the apartment (which is about two-to-three times the size of my place, I would estimate, making it roughly 150 square feet or less), so you can imagine the cacophony and chaos. Once settled, I noticed that I had forgotten to grab a fork.

Being me, I quickly decided that a) I had nothing on my plate that couldn't be eaten with fingers, that b) eating with fingers was better than working through the crush and back in search of utensils, and that c) it was kind of a nostalgic act anyway, and I ought to enjoy it.

It didn't take long for my friend, T., who's a shirt of his back kind of person, to notice my utensil-less state and offer to retrieve a fork for me. But by that time I had decided I was going to eat with my fingers, so I appreciated his offer but turned him down. Once I decide I'm going to do something, that's pretty much it.

But then, this other guy asked me if I wanted a fork, too. And here's where it gets kind of funny. I didn't know this guy. I knew he was at the Center because it's not that huge a place and even with 60 some odd people you get to know everyone's face, if not their names. But I didn't know this guy's name, never had a class with him, don't move in the same circles as far as I can tell, etc. And he seemed very concerned about my lack of fork.

I told him that I was enjoying the novelty of eating with fingers, and he offered again - pointing out that he had forgotten his beer over by the utensil station and had to go back anyway. I countered that it was just one more fork to be thrown away at the end of the night and that, while I truly appreciated his kind offer I had to decline. I was getting the feeling that he thought I must be really weird, but I just couldn't accept his offer.

So, why not?

Well, first of all because I had decided I wasn't going to take a fork, damnit. But there was something else operating, too. Something that made it impossible for me to accept the offer. See, my friend T. had already offered to get me a fork. And I turned him down. So how could I allow someone else to do me the same service not two minutes later, right? It would be like dancing with someone at a party after you'd told another guy you were too tired. Rude.

As my mother pointed out, that line of thinking is so Jane Austin. But Jane was right about that in 1813, and she's still right.

So, I did not accept a fork from that guy, and he moved on to talking with other folks at the party for the rest of the evening. T. offered again, but I once again declined for a combination of the same two reasons above, because now that nameless gentleman had offered it became rude for me to let T. get me one, even though I had begun to suspect that not having a fork was more trouble than it was worth. Complicated, eh?

It was only later that it suddenly struck me that there was a good chance that guy, who was actually pretty good-looking, was hitting on me and using the excuse of the fork as a means to strike up a conversation. And I effectively blew him off. Politely, of course.

On the one hand, it's funny. On the other hand, it reaffirms my fear that I'm going to be single for the rest of my life. ;>