The Dinner Party: Lena the Feeler
Follow the inner monologue of a Feeler as they attend a dinner party. Part 2 of 4.
Last week, we followed the experience of Pablo, the Performer. This week, we’ll meet Lena, the Feeler, at the same party. As you read, consider what seems familiar.
The Invitation
Oh, how nice. I’m invited to a dinner party at the Smiths. These kinds of invitations always make me feel the same. I know I’ll have a good time and see people I enjoy, but it all comes with a bit of stress and anxiety. I worry that if I don’t go, it might hurt their feelings, and I won’t be invited in the future.
I should go. It’ll be fun.
The Preparation
I could still back out. Is my throat sore? Never mind, I’ve RSVPd and I’m going.
The Smiths are so thoughtful. I need to find a nice gift and maybe even a card where I say a few nice words. I’ve been really enjoying a new chocolatier in my neighborhood, I should bring them chocolate!
Hmmm, what to wear? I want to look nice, but not make a statement. Just something comfortable and stylish should do the trick.
The Arrival
This is the hard part; the one point in the evening where all heads will turn and look at me. I can imagine them noticing what I’m wearing and how I look. It’s fine, that goes with the territory. I’m actually more confident than I appear.
I knock on the door and see it open to smiling faces. These are good people. I’m going to be fine. I quietly hug the hosts and offer the chocolate. They love it; I knew they would.
It strikes me that the room is full of energy. The music is loud, and the din of conversation sounds like a background hum. My first goal: find someone I know well.
Pre-Dinner
I’m not one to make a scene, so I carefully move about the room. I listen to every conversation and get a sense of how people feel. That’s one of my true talents: I can sense how someone is doing in a quick conversation. Sometimes, alarms go off in my mind that tell me someone needs support. I make mental notes and circle back.
One of my favorite people is Samantha; she’s my rock. I can always come to her when I need to feel grounded. She’s calm, collected, and open to discussing emotional subjects.
I like Erik, but I don’t get that feeling from him. He’s rational and direct in a lot of our interactions. It’s like we live on different planets. He probably thinks I’m an emotional mess, and that’s not surprising.
My whole life, I’ve felt as if the volume of reality is turned up. I seem to sense and feel everything at a greater intensity than others. A song, a piece of art, or a morsel of food can create deep feelings in me. It surprises people.
When I was young, my sensitivity was sometimes a problem for others. They told me to stop being a baby and get tough. I see the reasoning, but it always felt like a betrayal. I’d have to pretend to be tough without actually feeling it. This is who I am, and it’s probably why people see me as an introvert. I’d rather stay quiet than get negative attention for being myself.
The Dinner
At the table, I gravitate toward the calmer side. When someone has a big, loud personality, it affects me, and I usually try to find a quieter conversation. Pablo is fun, but I can only take him in doses. The seat next to Sam is open. That’s my spot.
This dinner is feeling good. It has the perfect ambiance, music, wine, people, and food. And, wow, that appetizer was a real experience. I usually have a keen sense of context, like a place or situation's invisible, unspoken tone. This one nails it.
Over dinner, I notice that the person across from me appears sullen. I don’t want to bother them, but I want to show interest and see if I can coax them out of their shell. I look for the right moment and ask, “So, how do you know the Smiths?” They light up by being noticed, and a short conversation flows. They opened up a little. It’s enough for now.
A different conversation turns to movies and the John Wick franchise, where Keanu Reeves kills dozens of bad guys. Kareem asks if I’ve seen it, and I say, “No, I can’t watch movies like that.” He responds, “Wait, you can’t?” It's true, I explain. I’ll leave the room when movies with violence and blood seem overwhelming. It makes me so uncomfortable. Heads nod, but they don’t know how it feels for me.
Thankfully, despite Pablo’s theatrics, the dinner was stress-free. But it took a toll. My social battery is running low.
Winding Down
I find myself trying to pick the right time to leave. In reality, I was ready to go an hour ago, but felt it would be rude. The easiest thing would be to slip out the door undetected. That doesn’t feel right.
A couple is leaving, and I use this as an invitation to say goodbye. I hug the hosts and tell them to enjoy the chocolate before a quiet departure. I feel frazzled and want to zone out and recover.
Home
Home, as always, feels the best. I arrive victorious, having slayed the dinner party dragon with grace and humility. I don’t think I made any bad impressions and even made new friends. I’m happy that I could bring a quiet person into the conversation. I love the feeling of helping people feel included.
As I drift off to sleep, I’m struck by the satisfaction of the warm bed, the rain falling on the roof, and not having a social event tomorrow night.