Lingering, Awkwardly, by the Snack Table

It’s not that you haven’t got anyone to talk to. Your solitude at the snack table is fully calculated. Wholly necessary, by the way, as party snacks are not conducive to eating in front of strangers—one of life’s most baffling contradictions. Why must hors d’oeuvres be ever-so-slightly bigger than a mouthful—straddling the border between one bite and two? Settle on two bites, and half of it pathetically collapses in your hand. Do it in one and you will lapse into awkward, gobsmacked silence. On another note, it is necessary to try all the snacks. It is. How else will you know which snack is worth stockpiling? Inevitably, the question of whether you’re being antisocial will arise, but don’t let it deter you from the snack table. While others are wobbling, famished, by end of night, you’ll leave replete, on steady feet.