I barely knew anyone at my friend’s bday party save for the bday boy and another friend. Everyone else I knew was several years younger than me. And although I tried to withhold my judgment, they were not city dwellers. I could smell the i-hate-driving-in-san-francisco and the suburbia-is-my-love on all of them.

But well, they made it to the city to party at a local hip bar/restaurant/club. Not my scene since I was 24.

I danced…almost with uncertainty at the edge of the group. Several guys who I would call azn with spiky over-gelled hair and a shockingly doused with cheap cologne arrived.

One of the girls I chatted with about ice cream earlier look at me and said, “Hey Jenn, let me introduce you.”

I shook hands with a guy. Jerry, I think.

“How do you know the birthday boy?” he asked.

I laughed, trying to be cordial, “At a conference! Well a party! How do you know the birthday boy?”

It was loud and he had to lean forward to hear. He made some witty remark and not completely understanding, I just nodded.

Then in less a minute, he turned to another friend and said, “Let me introduce you. This is Will. This is Jenn.”

I turned to talk to Will. “How do you know the birthday boy?” Will asked, talking into my ear to outshout the music. Lady Gaga was playing now.

I rephrased my answer and exclaimed, “At a party!”

And once again, Will turned to another guy. “This is Aaron.”

There was nobody else down the line. We had the same conversation about knowing the birthday boy, how often we came here (yes even though I live close by, this is only my third time), and what we did for fun.

Chris said that I killed the conversation when Will asked if I wanted a drink and I told him bluntly that I didn’t drink. I guess that I should have played along.