A Swedish party

Saturday night we went to a party at some friend’s house, partly to celebrate that they’ve moved to a new house, partly that he’s turning 30 in a couple of days. There were lots of people there and we sat outside at long table having a great dinner, playing freaky games (at one time I had a plastic bag over my head, paper teeth and plastic glass eyes…) and generally having a good time.

For all of you that don’t live in Sweden: it gets cold at night. I kid you not, smoke was coimg out of my mouth when I was talking, and conversations were like:

-Where did all the mosquitoes go?
-The frost took 'em...

In the middle of the night I ventured inside, into the kitchen, to where some others had also fled to escape the cold. Three guys were standing together, seeming to talk about something with great engagement, so I gathered it was really interesting and went up to them. Their topic was how different kinds of salt could enhance the taste of different meals, and one of them was proudly showing two salt cans and lecturing about them. Man, was I disappointed!

I gave them a scolding for being such sissies, told them that they should be ashamed of theirselves. Drunk men should talk about boobs and asses. That’s the way it’s always been, and the way it should stay (doesn’t matter if it’s about womens’ or mens’, as long as it’s a sexual conversation).

I eagerly moved on to the next group of people, this one consisting of only women. God, does women change when they get drunk, or what? Their conversation used many words I couldn’t even write here, but it’s suffice to say that it was about sex and it was way too revealing. Drunk men are just the same, just thinking and talking a little bit slower than usual. But women, man, they know how to party, how to let it all loose!

Also, sadly enough, later on I got to know things I really shouldn’t know, terrible stories that really left me dumbfounded. Sometimes I think I know too much… I just feel like I’m gonna burst. But don’t worry, trust me, your secrets are safe with me.

The morning after, I got out of bed to go change diapers on my daughter, Emilia. When that that was done and I exited the bathroom, I heard a loud knock from our front door, just next to me. We have a little round window in the front door, so visiting guests can peer in. Unfortunately, it was my mother-in-law doing the knocking and peering, and even worse, I was standing there butt naked with Emilia in my arms. Just the way I wanted the Sunday to start…


PS. If you like life reflections like this, I’m full of them. Preferably I should tell them in person, so you get the chance to see me gesticulating with an elated look on my face. πŸ™‚ DS.


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