There’s something about being an introvert that most people don’t get. Everyone always assumes you hate people, but it’s really not that. I like people... in small doses. So, when my friend Wairimu texted me about a “small hangout” at her cousin’s place in South C, I convinced myself it wouldn’t be so bad. After all, it wasn’t a club. I could handle a house party, right?
Wrong.
The night started off smoothly. I showed up around 7 PM, fashionably late (because who goes to a party on time in Nairobi?), carrying a bottle of soda. Wairimu greeted me with a big hug, her usual bubbly self.
“Babe, umefika! Karibu sana,” she said, dragging me inside. “We’ve already started on drinks, and I’ve been saving you a seat.”
The house was... more packed than I expected. Not the five or six people I had imagined, but closer to twenty. Some were lounging on the couches, others were standing around with drinks in their hands, and music was blasting from the corner. I immediately felt my introvert battery draining, but I took a deep breath and smiled.
“Thanks,” I muttered, trying to keep the nerves at bay.
Wairimu introduced me to her cousins—there was Brian, a guy with dreadlocks and an infectious laugh, and his sister Njeri, who was already two cocktails in and telling a wild story about her latest road trip to Naivasha. They were nice enough, but I could already feel the energy of the room swallowing me up.
We sat down, and I immediately regretted it. Because as soon as I got comfortable, Wairimu jumped up, all excited.
“Aki you guys, let’s play a drinking game! Truth or Dare!” she announced, clapping her hands like a kid on Christmas. Everyone around the room groaned in agreement, and bottles of alcohol were passed around like party favors.
I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, gripping my soda bottle like it was a lifeline. "I don’t drink, I don’t want to play this game," I thought. But of course, Wairimu was already on a roll, and before I could sneak out, she spun the bottle, and it landed right on me.
“Hehe, Waceke! Truth or Dare?” Wairimu’s eyes sparkled mischievously, and the whole room turned to look at me.
Sigh. Here we go.
“Truth,” I muttered, because I was not about to do some embarrassing dare in front of strangers.
Wairimu grinned like she had just won the lottery. “Alright, since you chose truth… tell us the most awkward date you’ve ever been on.”
I bit my lip, suddenly wishing I had stayed home. The whole room was staring, waiting for some dramatic story, and my brain scrambled to think of something that wouldn’t make me look like a total bore. But before I could start, someone from across the room cut in.
“I’ll tell you about my worst date,” said Brian, laughing loudly. “Nilienda kwa date na dem, na kumbe alikuwa anafikiria tunameet na entire squad yake. Weh! Tulikuwa more than ten people, and I had to foot the whole bill!”
Everyone burst out laughing and booing, and I joined in, grateful that the attention had shifted away from me. But then Brian turned to me, still chuckling. “Lakini sasa, si utuambie yako bado?”
I groaned internally. Why didn’t I just stay home?
“Okay, fine,” I started, feeling the heat rise to my cheeks. “I once went out with a guy who spent the entire date on his phone. Like, the entire time. I think he checked Instagram more than he looked at me.”
The group erupted into laughter again, with people nodding and adding their own horror stories to the mix. I smiled, relieved that it wasn’t as bad as I’d feared.
As the game carried on, I managed to stay low-key, answering a few questions and dodging the more scandalous dares. But as the night wore on, and the drinks flowed more freely, the crowd started to get wilder. Wairimu was now dancing on the couch, Njeri was halfway through a bottle of wine, and Brian? Well, he was in the corner trying to convince someone to play Twister with him. The energy was getting more chaotic, and I could feel my introvert battery dipping to dangerously low levels.
“Waceke, unadai?” Wairimu shouted at me, barely coherent at this point.
I glanced around, trying to muster up the enthusiasm to stick around. But my social stamina was gone. I needed my bed, my blankets, and Netflix.
“I think I’m going to head out,” I said, standing up and grabbing my bag.
Wairimu pouted dramatically. “Aki, si unatuacha mapema? Come on, it’s not even midnight!”
I chuckled, shaking my head. “Niko sawa. Next time, sawa?”
I slipped out of the house and into the cool night air, feeling immediate relief as the quiet wrapped around me. I called for a ride, and as I waited, I replayed the night in my head. It wasn’t a disaster, but it was a reminder that house parties just aren’t my thing.
Don’t get me wrong, I love my friends, and I don’t mind hanging out once in a while. But as an introvert, there’s a limit to how much social energy I can expend before I need to recharge. By the time the cab pulled up, I was already looking forward to getting home, throwing on some pajamas, and curling up with my favorite book.
And honestly? That’s my idea of a perfect night.
Comments