Socialising

I was thinking about my social life today. This was mainly because of how packed my last few days have been with different social events.

Wednesday I went on a first date. And you're right - it's none of your business.

Thursday was a happy hour between the Flyers and the Reservoir Dogs. I got there a little late, and only actually met one dog, but she was nice, and didn't bite. Not a whole lot of our club was represented, which showed me that despite being the biggest club in the city, we can be as lame as the next one. Hopefully it was just a bad day for people and if/when we do it again, we'll have a better turn out. I know I had a great time chatting with my friends, about a great many topics. I even let it slip that I kept a blog.

Friday, I went out to celebrate a friend's 40th birthday. When I moved to the metro years ago, this originally was the group of Canadians that I used to hang with, but through time and the building of new relationships, has been slowly infiltrated by Americans, who are easily tolerated. We went to a mildly swanky place near Union Square and a later bar hop found us at a pub not far away. Unlike St. Patty's Day, which was the night before the Brooklyn Half, I was a good boy and left lacking full inebriation. I still only squeezed in less than 5 hours sleep, but starting the race without a hangover was a nice strategy.

The next day I arrived at College Point and bumped into some other running club members. I forget that these races are an integral part of my social life. Some of the Flyers I know well, and have become good personal friends of mine, and some I don't, and we just make small talk. But it seems I rarely meet runners that I don't like. Among the ones I saw at the race were this one, this one, and this one.

I returned from Queens on one of the nasty buses. I was with two other Flyers that also had some good race times, and we swapped stories. Upon returning to Manhattan, my plan was to head home, do a few more slow miles, and take a nap before getting on with my day. Instead, one buddy tempted me with brunch, and I buckled. I got a tour of his new home, gave him some design suggestions (he's the other guy in Manhattan that has a yard) and we hit a place on Broadway for some nourishment with his wife and one of her friends. The conversation was fun, and made me think I had to get out and do brunch more often with friends. I used to do this a lot, but have gotten too focused on other things lately, including racing.

I did make a couple of good foot-in-mouth statements, though. First, even if you run 60+ miles a week, don't say to a fellow runner that you have to make an effort to eat to keep your weight up - when you are sitting across from two women who don't run. It doesn't go over very well. Second, if you're sick of collecting running t-shirts, and a woman says "Well, if you don't want them, pick one up for me then," don't ask what size. It also doesn't go over well. Always assume size small.

Moving on, my plans that afternoon included a bachelor party. The e-mails that went out from the groom-to-be included instructions to meet at a pub in midtown at 4 PM, admitting that this was going to be a pretty low-key party. I assumed was merely a tactic used in case his wife-to-be reads his e-mail. I arrived shortly after everyone else did, and asked the obvious question: "So where are we really going?" My friend rolled his eyes and it was apparent that I was likely the seventh out of the eight of us standing there that had asked him this question. He insisted that this was it. And so it was that this bachelor party ended up covering 3 different midtown bars, none of which featured anything beginning with the letters T or A. Apparently my friend had forgotten how a "bachelor party" was supposed to differ from a "party."

I did, however, get to ride in a limo for about 5 minutes, between 6th and 8th Avenues. It was my first limo ride ever. I was slightly disappointed.

I was back home shortly after 9 PM, only somewhat inebriated. Not that I've been to many, but this likely rated as the worst bachelor party I've ever been to. And by the way, in that sentence I was just being nice when I used the word "likely". The rest of the guys were all going back in the limo to NJ, and for their sake, I hoped things got intensely out of control and they all woke up with blinding hangovers, naked, in a jail cell down in Atlantic City. Because that's how a bachelor party should end.

Sunday I met up with a friend of mine in the park, where we celebrated her birthday by basking in the sun for a couple of hours, nibbling munchies with her boyfriend and two other chums. She's the only friend I have from back home. She always introduces me to others as the friend in NYC that she's known the longest, and that we both grew up on farms in Canada, and so on and so forth. I don't feel that such detail is necessary, but there's something I like about her telling people, so I don't mind. Anyway, it was a relaxing way to spend the afternoon, and a nice change to be in the park and not be running the drives.

Last year, I almost moved back to Canada. I stayed, not only because I really love this city, but also because of the ties and roots I've developed here, and the diversity of friendships. I often wonder how we end up hanging out with the people we hang out with. It's all the water and light that grows our world. It's going for a happy hour with the day-to-day people we work with. It's finding groups and individuals with similar backgrounds, like my Canadian friends, to share our common perspectives. And it's the people we share the same hobbies and pursuits, like my running buddies or the sculpture classes I used to partake in a few years ago. It's the stuff of life. And it's just all so good.