It’s that time of year again—the time of year when we are all forced to mingle with the people who we haven’t seen, mostly on purpose, in a while. These people will all inevitably ask the same question: “what have you been up to?” If you’re anything like me, you will become immediately anxious when this question is asked. I loathe this question. Thoughts like, “What can I possibly say to make myself look like I’m not a complete fuck up?” will come to mind. And inevitably, the nervous look indicating, “My life is bullshit” will cross my face.

Although the holiday season has just started, I have already had the pleasure of attending a gathering in which a large amount of people who have known me since childhood were in attendance. Having the same part-time job that I had in college is not so impressive, needless to say. My friends think my job at the community college is legitimate, but that’s because they are all in bands or wait tables. As I walked through the party, I tried to think of ways to stretch the truth or even lie in order to portray myself as a functional adult. Unfortunately, “I’m thinking of graduate school” isn’t nearly as legitimate sounding when speaking to a room full of adults with white-collar jobs instead of my barista friends.

Perhaps the most embarrassing part of any holiday party is the other question, a sub-question following “What have you been up to”: “Are you seeing anyone?” My first thoughts are usually, “Motherfucker, does it look like I’m seeing anyone? I am at this party alone. I know you lurk my Facebook page. Stop rubbing it in, you vindictive bitch.” Then comes the point when I make up some bullshit that no one, especially another woman, will ever buy. “I’m really taking this time to focus on myself” is a good one. The literal translation is “No one is interested in me, and there’s nothing I can do about it. Another great line is, “I’m seeing a few people casually but nothing serious.” This means “I’m sleeping with several men, but none of them are willing to make any real commitment to me.” Whatever the case, we all know that not having a boyfriend basically makes one a social outcast.

But I have to ask myself: what exactly would be good enough? What answer wouldn’t be embarrassing? “I am a successful lawyer or investment banker”? Perhaps that would sound impressive, but in reality, those are two things that I would never want to be. “I am happily married or at least in a relationship”? Would that justify my existence? It’s odd to come into contact with people who possess what most consider traditional values since the majority of the people who I know don’t value careers and family life. I live in Austin, where they value free beer.

My strategy of coping with my own failures in this particular situation is to redirect the attention to my siblings. I explain that both my sister and brother are teaching English in the Democratic Republic of Congo and Colombia, respectively. Both situations are much more interesting than “I work part time, get drunk, throw parties and do some volunteer work in Austin.” Telling the story about how my sister had to flee the DRC for Rwanda in order to avoid danger stemming from the elections taking place in the region is far more intriguing than “I got to meet Henry Rollins the other day, mainly because I party too much.” Somehow, I got through my most recent brush with inadequacy unscathed.

The next day, my brother called from some Google Voice number that I didn’t recognize, but I’ve grown accustomed to answering these particular numbers, since they are usually him and not student loan officers. “So how’s Colombia? How’s the teaching?”

He responded, “I think I am just going to bartend while I’m here.”

Happy holidays!