Confession - I really, really don’t like college parties.

Wait, let me back up a little. I love most of the individual elements that make up a party: the addictive finger foods, the hypnotic beats, the dancing, the chance to spend time with friends, the inevitably hilarious hijinks that ensue during round after round of "Cards Against Humanity." However, when you combine those things together into a chimeric entity, you've lost me. I can certainly appreciate the sentiment behind parties - a place to relax and let loose, free yourself of all inhibitions, rebel against everyone who's told you to not do this or that - but no matter how hard I try, I can never seem to fully let go when it comes to large social gatherings.

Part of it is due to my stance on substance use. So much of the college party culture is predicated on the consumption of alcohol - be it games of beer pong, drunken hookups, or inebriated escapades and misadventures - that when you're the only one not drinking, things can get very awkward very quickly. I can have a lot of fun without alcohol, and people are pretty respectful when I politely decline to have a beer, but there's still an unconscious attitude which lingers through the air: if you don't have a drink, then you're not really part of the party. You're an observer, not a participant. You're there, but not there all the same. Throughout the night, all you can hear is that little voice whispering "you don't really belong or fit in" against your ear, dredging up feelings of loneliness and social awkwardness that threaten to consume you whole. That's what makes college drinking culture so maddening - when you don't drink, you're immediately one step removed from everyone else who is drinking - there's one less way to connect, one more obstacle to getting to know a person for who they really are. And when day to day social interactions are already pretty strenuous (thanks Asperger's!), things get even more complicated.

Being social doesn't come naturally to everyone (myself included!), and keeping track of an infinite number of variables is often overwhelming, exhausting, and stressful. This goes doubly so for parties, where socializing with people you barely know is the main event. There's no structure to fall back on, no way to know what's supposed to be taken seriously and what isn't - hell, when the music gets turned all the way up to eleven it's next to impossible to understand what anyone is saying at all.

The biggest challenge, however, is reading social cues. I find myself on edge and unable to enjoy myself because I'm so focused on analyzing a given situation, coming up with appropriate conversation starters, reading into body language, grasping at social rules in constant flux. Am I being too clingy? Are they, and if so, how do I escape? What is the appropriate protocol when it comes to drinking games, especially when you don't drink? What the hell do I even talk about when conversations revolve around who's hooking up with who, and all I want to discuss is the latest "Pokémon Sun & Moon" infodump? How do I ward off unwanted advances? How do I go about meeting new people when everyone already seems to know each other really well and have already formed into little cliques? Am I being too socially passive? Too aggressive? Should I flirt with that cute guy over there, or will he misinterpret my actions and think I want to hook up? How true to myself can I be, and how much do I have to fake it so I can fit in?

Needless to say, all of this stuff - the overstimulation, the social aspects, the fears of not fitting in, the alcohol - is ridiculously stressful. Frankly, why should I subject myself to it when I could spend my time doing something that I really, truly enjoy? I'll never be the super-popular social butterfly, and that's totally okay; so is the fact that my idea of a perfect Friday night is playing video games, drinking sweet tea, and laughing my ass off with a few close friends rather than partying (and having to deal with a nasty hangover).

So there you have it - that's why I probably won't be going to your party (or, at the very least, won't be there for long). It's not you, it's me.