A Tale of Two Parties

Recently I was invited to attend two 40th birthday parties on the same night. Having celebrated a 40th birthday myself, I didn’t want to miss either event—so I double-booked. People need all the support they can get when they hit 40.

The first party was being hosted by a guy who had found much success in Charlotte. He lived in a gated community in a beautiful home. The party was being catered and he’d hired a DJ and a bartender to mix drinks. As we arrived at the house, my friend mentioned that we were NOT supposed to talk about anything “gay” once we got inside. Since this person was one of the most obviously gay men I could think of (and he had personally hit on me one night—confirming what I already knew), I assumed my friend was kidding. He assured me he was serious. This man was not openly gay.

We entered the party and were greeted by our host. He gave us a quick tour of his home, calling our attention to his walk-in closet with designer suits and hand-made scarves from Scotland (!), his master bedroom with the canopy bed (!!), and the dessert table loaded with pastries that he had made himself after finishing his Pastry Cooking Class (!!!). Each announcement was met with stifled praise and sidelong glances. It was like fireworks were going off and nobody would admit it was the Fourth of July.

The most uncomfortable moment came when someone suggested they have a Roast for the birthday boy. When volunteers were asked to step forward and tell stories, nobody would do it. Nobody seemed to know what was safe to tease him about. After an uncomfortable silence, the DJ mercifully started the music again and people just turned back to their conversations. My friend & I decided that was a good time to leave.

The second party was being hosted by a lesbian friend of ours and her partner. She was a poetess who had worked as a sign language interpreter to put her girlfriend through Culinary School. Now that her girlfriend was working, she was paying for the poetess to go back to school. Money was very tight, but what they lacked in financial support was more than compensated for with emotional support. There were no caterers, DJs or bartenders at the party. In honor of the poetess’ 40th birthday, there was a big washtub with 40 ounce beers on ice. Music was provided by a mix tape made by one of their friends. The place was packed, though, and everyone was laughing. Their tiny house was filled to capacity so the party had spilled out into the back yard. Young, old, gay, straight, black, white, latino, abled & disabled attendees were there to toast their friend. It was a perfect celebration.

I’m sure as you’re reading this, you are thinking that this is YET ANOTHER plea for people to come out of the closet and pursue their own happiness. That’s definitely part of it. The lesson I took away from this evening, though, expands upon that idea. The choices you make as an individual are going to affect the people around you. If people are truly your friends, they will want you to be happy. If you aren’t able to name that happiness and your desire to pursue it, then how can your friends support you? You have to pick up that baton and lead your friends in the parade. When you aren’t true to yourself, you not only screw up your own life—you ruin the party for everyone else.