Anyone Have Film of Me at a Party Circa 50 years Ago?

That's me, the party animal at age 23

How would I feel if there was film of me at a party when I was in my early twenties? What would it be like to see the younger me? Surely it would evoke some memories. But some of it might be cringe-worthy, especially if it was an occasion in which I’d drank too much. (There were many of those.)

I’d either be accompanied by a young woman or I’d be hitting on women left and right. Or — admittedly — both. How many of the people at the party would I recognize? How many could I name? What would I be talking about? Let’s see if I can guess…. Likely I’d be telling stories to amuse, to connect, to flirt. I’ve always been a good storyteller and I’ve always been funny. I was often “the life of the party” which means I made myself the center of attention and helped make parties better. Better how? More fun. I was the guy who got people dancing, or laughing. I brought energy. I discoursed on a variety of topics. Gossip. Sports. Politics. Film. 

It’s odd. I’m something of a misanthrope but I love people. I love being around others. Yet I’m judgmental. I like to watch people and let my imagination run wild and make backstories for them. People repel and fascinate and bore and interest me. I’m partial to woman. Have been ever since adolescence. 

Things were different when I was young because I was drunk half the time. More like seven-eights of the time if we’re talking about parties. And at parties I was always looking “to score.” I’ve always loved women. Been fascinated by them. In my youth I had lovers tell me that they could tell that I genuinely liked women and that many men really don’t. Still I tended to go from one relationship to another without so much as a by your leave. So, yeah, I was a cad in a lot of ways. I’d quickly fall in love with a woman and soon thereafter become interested in someone else.

But let’s get back to the footage of me at a party. I’d probably be struck by how damn cute I was. I wasn’t every girl’s cup of tea. Some women like taller, darker men. I’m short and blonde but a lot of young women loved my long blonde locks, my blue eyes and my athletic body. If I had shorts on women admired my legs. That’s a thing about getting old, for me, anyway, I miss my boyish good looks. Now I take pride in looking so much younger than I am. I hear that a lot from people that I look younger than I am. 

Fucking goddamned youth. I really enjoyed it. It’s a shame I was such an idiot at the time. Imagine doing it all over again with the wisdom I’ve acquired since then. Imagine all the mistakes I wouldn’t have made. I could have, would have still had a bloody good time but not stepped on so many toes. Not gotten blackout drunk. Not endured wretched hangovers. Not have squandered so much money. Taken my writing more seriously. You can drive yourself nuts with all that I should have done this, I could have done that crap. Here I am doing it again. Fucking regrets will kill you. Not literally. No, but they’ll damage your soul.

Anyway I survived the mistakes and learned a great deal along the way. Most of it too late to do me much good. 

I shouldn’t beat myself about my wayward youth. A lot was going against me. A stacked deck. Addiction. PTSD from a traumatic childhood. The drinking — in many ways — got me through a lot of pain. The cure eventually become a whole other problem. 

But let’s get back to the footage of me at a party. Better yet how about snippets from many parties from seventeen to twenty four. My heyday, so to speak.

What would I see? A good dancer for one. I played for laughs some of the time but for a white boy I had moves. That would be damn fun to watch. I wonder what kind of lines I used on women. I wonder what kind of jokes or funny stories I told. From early childhood I’ve been good at making people laugh. I wonder how charming I was, how glib. I wonder what kind of insights I had. 

I don’t have a lot of memories at parties (the drinking, of course). But I remember a few incidents. I remember meeting girls and successfully wooing them. I remember getting roaring drunk. I remember dancing. I remember people being damn glad to see me make it to a party and in some cases damn glad to see me go. I remember hosting parties, crashing parties. I remember huge outdoor parties and smaller intimate ones. I loved all kinds.

How fucking cool would it be to have film of me in action?  A piece of history. A reminder. Yeah, maybe embarrassing at times but  I could fast forward through those parts. 

The good ole days.