Over the weekend I attended the holiday party for the company where I work. It was like a banquet at a good restaurant, as it is every year. Lots of chatting, food, and drinks. It was interesting to watch my coworkers slowly get hammered as I continued sipping on water.

After the dinner, most of the group decided to head to a bar across the street. Because obviously they weren't stumbling around enough for it to be a proper party. So I go with them, not because I'm any kind of party animal, but because I'm a team player and this is part of the whole experience. I guess.

So anyway, this bar actually plays good music. The kind you can really dance to. A bunch of my coworkers start dancing, and--believe it or not--I join them. Let me state up front that I am not a good dancer by any stretch of the imagination. I can bob my head, and shuffle my feet and move my shoulders. You know, the basic two-step that most non-dancers do when faced with a dancing situation.

So there I am, really damn proud of myself for getting over my self-consciousness and dancing (sort of). I actually have to continue battling the self-consciousness because I'm a freaking introvert and I do not dance in public. My coworkers alternate sitting and dancing, and because I really like the music, I stay up the entire time, wiggling to the music.

The following Monday, I look forward to the conversations about the party. Specifically I look forward to the comments about how I actually got up and joined them dancing. For, like, the entire time. They know I keep to myself. How I don't chat much. How I don't do anything outgoing at all. So this would be kind of amazing, right?

Ha.

So, Monday morning. They do start talking about the bar and how fun it was and how the DJ pissed off the one coworker who wanted to request music but said no. They talk about all the dancing and how cool it was. They start naming who was dancing. Laughing at the one who was so drunk she was practically grinding against someone else's wife. Naming everyone who participated in the dancing even a little.

Except for me.

I danced possibly more than any of them, and they forgot I was even there. Yeah I know it was a series of horrible two-steps, but I was there! Participating! And they never even mentioned me. It's like, even when I try not to be a wallflower, I'm a fucking wallflower anyway.

Did I have fun? In a way, sure. But it wasn't my scene. I would've preferred to go home and play video games. Or better yet, work on my stories. But instead I chose to attempt earning a few social points at the workplace. To show that I'm not a fuddy duddy all the time.

But no. I'm still "that girl who doesn't drink". And that's okay. If people have low social expectations of me, then they won't be let down. I'm mostly venting right now because it stings to be reminded that I'm forgettable.