Boogie Oogie Oogie

"Ewww, really, you want to wear that?"
"Yes, why not?"
"I don't know...  "
As Mark's voice trails off, he lets out a faint sigh of resignation. It seems that I am an embarrassment to him again.

I hate parties. Not all parties, just parties where there are seven or more people. I can handle a small dinner party where memorizing everybody's name and face won't take more than half an hour. It's the mega-parties, where strange people walk up to me and greet me as if I should know them, that I hate. Last night Mark and I went to a good friend's birthday party. As far as parties go, it was very nice. Once again however, I was stumped at names and faces of people who Mark says I should know.
"Hi, how have you been? It's so great to see you again." The nice smiling lady says.
"Yes, yes it is." I mutter in a barely audible mumble.
After she leaves I have to ask Mark, "Who was that?"
"You don't remember? We sat with her at the wedding. Talked to her all afternoon, and evening. Really, you don't remember?"
No, no I didn't, and I didn't even recognize some people who I see all the time. You see this party was also a costume party. If there is anything I hate more than a big party, it's a big costume party. The theme of this one was the seventies, disco, and all that came with my favorite decade.

So I'm standing in the living room in my costume, and Mark has that look on his face. He of course is done up in a fabulous outfit, including bell bottoms, an Afro wig, and a big boomerang collar shirt. He is looking me up and down, frowning, digging those old age furrows deeper into his forehead.
"Come on, let's go." He says with a sigh.
"What's wrong? This is what I wore in the 1970's. A tee shirt, cut off Levi shorts, athletic shoes, and red striped tube socks."
"Never mind, let's just go."
"Hey, we can't all be Bootsie Collins."