Quarter-Century Extravaganza

I turned 25 a few days ago. I threw a party. I spent about three months entirely overthinking this party. I called it my Quarter-Century Extravaganza. I spent a little more money that I should have throwing this party. And it turned out to be everything I could've hoped for and more. 

As wonderful and perfect as the party was, there are three great ironies which caused the people around me, and sometimes even myself, to tilt their heads and ask, "are you sure this is what you want to do?"

The first great irony is found in the sheer number of people involved.

I’ve discussed this here before. So many people in my life seem to have social batteries that run on nuclear energy. My social battery, however, is a couple of AA batteries. But not even the good kind, like Duracell or Energizer. Think the cheapest batteries, the ones that come with the toy. And there’s already acid leaking out the side.

My brothers and I had some friends over at my parents’ house six weeks ago for a New Year’s Eve party. By 9:30, I was so drained that I spent the rest of the evening in the other room, noise-cancelling headphones in, cuddled up with my dog, lights dimmed, scrolling TikTok. I reentered the party occasionally for the sole purpose of stealing a handful of cream puffs before returning to peaceful solitude.

So naturally, I planned my *absolute worst nightmare*. I sent out a lot of invitations and received a lot of RSVPs. I had invited dozens of people to be in the same room. At the same time. And I had to talk to all of them. Because I invited them.

The second great irony is that my party was held in the cultural hall of a Mormon church building. This is primarily ironic because I haven't attended church regularly in over two years. Also because I had more than a handful of gay friends come to this party (I, myself, am a raging homosexual, in case you somehow ended up here and did not know that). One friend commented on how funny it was to walk into the foyer of the building and see a painting of Joseph Smith, then Jesus, then Tyler. Another friend texted me after the party and said, “Any time I can yell ‘Britney, b*tch!’ in a church, I’m there.” But in all seriousness, it was the perfect space, and I appreciate my friends for making the reservation.

My sister-in-law, Ashlee, painted this portrait of me and gave it to

me for Christmas, because she knows that there's nothing in this

world I love more than myself. And of course it had to be on display

at my extravaganza.

The third great irony is that I’m not cool enough to have thrown a party like this. (I'm nothing if not self-aware, even if sometimes to my own detriment.) 

Listen. I requested people show up in formal dress. I requested gifts in the form of flowers and contributions to my Lasik fund. The party was mostly a joke and entirely for fun. Some people didn’t get the joke, and that’s fine. Most people showed up dressed to the nines, many with flowers and monetary contributions in hand. And we all had fun.

***

My brother, Seth, created a Tyler-themed trivia game--entirely from Seth's point of view. It included questions like "What Ninja Turtle did Tyler dress as for Halloween in 2006?" (Leonardo) or "What song did Tyler and I get in a fight over on the way to Seminary on my third day of high school?" (Rude by MAGIC!; I hate that song SO MUCH) or "True or False: Tyler told me when I was 9 years old that our parents were getting a divorce," (True, I did tell him that, but I'm happy to report that I was wrong and my parents will be celebrating their 30th wedding anniversary later this year). 

I asked a few of the attendees who have known me the longest to give speeches. I told them to think wedding speech, but I'm still sad and lonely. It felt tacky, but it was also very fun to hear the memories and the kind things they had to say about me.

Taylor Nelson went first. We've been friends since Kindergarten. She talked about our freshman year of high school when we were Valentines; she gave me a plush Captain America with a thicc booty that I'm sure I still have somewhere. She talked about how I became great friends with her high school boyfriend, Trent, and that I was eventually a groomsman in his wedding (which was also her wedding). She chose to omit the story of the time I gave her a black eye in 8th grade, which I appreciated.

My other brother, Ethan, reflected on one of his first memories of me: I was playing in the neighbor's yard and I stepped on an especially long nail, which went through my Crocs and into my foot. It was a traumatic experience. I spent the evening at urgent care with my mom. I had to get a Tetanus shot. And I've never worn Crocs again. He also told the story of when my friends and I took him along for the first and only time he ever TP'd a house. And he hated on my sometimes-obscure music taste.

My cousin, Harrison, told the dramatic tale of when I was born five days after him and our grandma left his mother destitute with a newborn child to come to my mother's rescue. He mentioned that I had my first girlfriend before he did; he also mentioned that I had my first boyfriend before him, and that his wife is a major obstacle to him ever being able to match me at that.

Hailey Bayles isn't my cousin, but she's basically like a cousin. Our families have been friends since before I can remember. She shared memories of summer days spent at their family's ranch in the Uintah Mountains or on the beach of Bear Lake. All the way to more recent years when we taught at the same school and spent our lunch hour and prep period gossiping and acting as each other's therapist. Hailey included pictures in her speech; some were really embarrassing and all of them were super fun.

Hailey shared this picture and I thought it was too cute not to include here.

Seth had shared all his memories in the form of the Tyler trivia game, but he said a lot of really nice things about how he looks up to me, which is ironic because he's probably seven inches taller than me and, in a literal sense, looks down at me. But in both a literal and figurative sense, I look up to and admire Seth a lot, and I'm grateful for him.

After the speeches were finished, we danced the night away to all the latest hits and 2010s throwbacks. I danced so hard, my entire body ached for three days.

***

Now, allow me to get sappy and serious for a second.

I've spent most of the last five years of my life in survival mode. I often still feel that way. And I think I've been so focused on just getting through this day and the next for so long that I haven't stopped to look around and appreciate the fact that, in many aspects, I have so many things in my life that I've hoped for for a really long time. 

By a lot of traditional measures, I haven't accomplished much, and I'm not a particularly successful adult. I don't have a college degree, I'm not married nor do I have children, I don't have a career and my expenses exceed my income. That being said, I'm so proud of myself. I'm proud of the things I've accomplished. I'm proud of the things I've learned. I'm proud of who I am. 

I am so lucky to be surrounded by some of the greatest people on the planet. My family is amazing. I have friends that I’ve known for decades, who saw me through middle and high school. I have friends who saw me through my coming-out process and have made me feel loved all along the way. I have friends I met through work. Friends I met on the internet. Friends I met because they lived in my apartment building. Friends of friends who became my friends. Friends who were at the Quarter-Century Extravaganza, and friends who couldn’t make it, whose absence was felt. So. Many. Amazing. People.

So, today, I raise a glass and dedicate the Quarter-Century Extravaganza to the people in my life who have gotten me where I am today, whether in big ways or small, whether they realize it or not. And I dedicate it to myself because, and I don't mean to be conceited, I'm pretty great.