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No theme parties

John Cameron | Sunday, February 10, 2013

You’re trolling Facebook as per usual when you see a notification inviting you to an event. “Thank God,” you think, “someone finally got around to booking me for Valentine’s Day night.”
Wrong. You couldn’t be further from the truth. You’ve been invited to the most unfortunate of social media-official gatherings: the theme party.
Don’t get me wrong, I like an old-fashioned night of house party debauchery as much as the next shameless college male. It’s a great opportunity to meet people while avoiding shelling out a whole dollar for a 32-ounce drink at Finny’s. That being said, when you require me to put on jorts, wear ironic business formal attire or paint my face, just … ain’t nobody got time for that.
Frankly, Legacy Village rent is pretty steep, and the money tree we had in our backyard died before Christmas, so the last thing I want to do is trek to Walmart or the thrift shop – regardless of the potential Macklemore lyric Twitter references – to buy some ugly piece of clothing I will never wear again, an exception being the sacred institution of ugly sweater parties, which are perfect.
The worst part of theme parties may be the unpredictability. If you get an invite to a “pants party,” you have to ask yourself how serious these hosts are about having a house full of people in funny pants? I’m not going out of my way to get funny pants only to show up to a room full of denim-clad, non-funny-pant-wearing party attendees. I’ll play it safe and ignore the theme. Big mistake. The chanting of “Pants, pants, pants” upon my arrival still echos in the core of my soul.
Then there’s the before and after. If you’re really popular, as I choose to self-identify, it’s likely you’ll have multiple engagements on any given Friday – or Saturday or Wednesday or Thursday. If you commit to substituting your shirt with an American flag, you will undoubtedly look stupid at the pre-game, or the pre-game for the pre-game or the post-game Finny’s appearance. God forbid the theme is subtle enough that it could appear as though you are just awkwardly dressed, requiring you to inform every acquaintance that you don’t actually consider tie-dye apparel to be socially acceptable – that it’s just for the theme. I swear. I usually look good.
Also, no one looks good in theme-wear. The point of going out is to make an effort to not grow old alone surrounded by felines watching “Here Comes Honey Boo Boo.” Don’t impede my efforts to convince some unfortunate soul that I’m worth approaching.
So hosts: Think twice before you decide to tack on a theme to your upcoming shindig. You don’t know the commitment and shamelessness you are requiring of your guests, and I just don’t have the shoulder musculature to pull off a toga.