Living

Give thanks on the party scene

With luck, this column is a temporary reprieve from all the uninvited relationship status inquiries you’re bound to receive from your family today.

Thanksgiving is supposed to be about appreciation.

Throw in chick flicks and Aunt Ethel’s not-so-gentle intervention, however, and the day is bound to only reinforce some pesky shortcomings.

Before long, you’re crouched on the kitchen floor, mumbling incoherently about how a failed pumpkin pie symbolizes your life.

A tough, sensible crust destroyed by a center that’s too soft, too trusting of random guys who woo her with cheesy pickup lines at the neighborhood bar.

You laugh, but wallowing has become chic in recent years, especially among my female counterparts.

The roster of personal blogs I check (read: stalk) is increasingly dominated by posters analyzing — and overanalyzing — the pain of their most recent breakup.

Your cubicle isn’t immune, either. The blogosphere includes destinations like The Angry Teacher and The Angry Office Manager.

Here’s a risky Thanksgiving proposal, partiers: Buck the trend and count your blessings.

Be thankful for the 167 people who befriended you on social networking sites, and the five who are actually brave enough to hang out with you in person.

Be thankful for any semblance of family you have, whether it be the aunts and uncles with whom you share a kitchen table or the nightclub bouncer you call “daddy.”

Be thankful your digestive system is strong enough to handle the havoc inherent in a Krystal meal, and that any long-term effects of excessive processed cheese indulgence haven’t shown themselves yet.

Be thankful that no matter how many teary nights you’ve endured, and how many diminished expectations you’ve experienced, your weekend setbacks still probably haven’t been strong enough to make you swear off the party scene entirely.

Finally, be thankful for the potential for escape and drama within Columbus-area nightlife, whether it be in the form of quiet house parties or packed nights at full-capacity dance clubs.

Just think: We might live in a small town, but few party scenes are as rich in natural resources as ours.

Oxygen, Aqua and H2O — you can’t say Columbus nightclub patrons don’t appreciate the environment.

No matter how content you are, that satisfaction will always be interrupted by questions about why you’re not married, why you’re not doing something more fulfilling, why you’re not having kids.

Stuff to which the best response comes from inside. And usually involves some incessant mocking about your accuser’s ugly pair of Crocs.

But if those questions bother you — if sharing today’s dinner table with your dog puts you on the verge of a downward spiral — remember that one of Thanksgiving’s greatest virtues is the fact that it’s followed by another, entirely blank, day.

That alone may deserve the greatest “thank you” of all.

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