While the energy of the party was undoubtedly dwindling around 11pm, questions started arising after why there wasn’t a population decrease at my apartment. Those questions came from me. After polling everyone, studies showed that out of the 30 invited guests, 26 of them wanted to leave my birthday party earlier tonight.

Statistics has a specific craft to wording hypotheses. However, I was too much of a messy (but fun!) bitch in college so I never learned how to formulate a coherent hypothesis. I think the null hypothesis is the boring one, so that would be “everyone wants to keep celebrating my continued existence.” That makes the alternative hypothesis the edgier (and probably not true) version: “No one is excited enough to celebrate my birthday”. So let’s start with 30 out of 30 of my closest friends want to vacate my home during an event that’s about me.

For the sake of science, fuck it. My friends rock and I know they’re here for me out of genuine care and not common courtesy shaped by social pressures. I’m not pressuring anyone.

As an initial screen to cherry-pick the results I wanted to hear, I surveyed by best friend from childhood, Emma, if she was having fun. She elegantly took a gulp of her drink as if her mouth was a funnel before replying in a nervously arrhythmic cadence, “Oh my gosh, yes of course! So much, so much…fun? Yes, fun! I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else ever!” Upon further questioning, she indicated that she couldn’t stay for too much longer because her bus leaves pretty early (in three days), but she felt “sooo bad about leaving”. Hm, okay. Fair. It’s not worth dissecting this friendship beyond its surface value. I got the data I needed. 29/30 want to leave.

Others who were questioned offered similar remarks. “I’ve been here for a while, but I’m just waiting around because I’m hooking up with this guy a few blocks away and it would be too annoying to go home,” replied Paula, who I totally get. I totally get it. And while I totally got it, I framed the answer in my favor and elected Paula as voluntarily staying at my birthday party because she likes me more than she likes sex. 28/30 want to leave. Statistics are inherently hard to understand by nature, but I would classify this as “not bad”.

A friend I made from my kickball league, Ian, had his own perspective to offer. “I got here when the party was starting and now I’m getting bored — TIRED, sorry — but I’ve been waiting to see our other friend John who hasn’t gotten here yet, and it’s just like this giant ordeal that I’m thinking of giving up on.” Upon further questioning, it became evident that John forgot it was my birthday. John deleted his Facebook, so it makes sense as to why he no longer acknowledges anything about me.

I have excluded a data point from my friend Derek, who is too stoned to find the door so he could leave. He doesn’t even count in the total 30. Just pretend I never brought him up. He’s still on my side though.

The vast majority (roughly 87% — stats!) of the party was ready to flee from my birthday, the only night when literally everyone has to be friendly to me. However, four very close individuals maintained the courage and strong will to remain, including my cousin Jess and her boyfriend Kyle who are sleeping on my couch this weekend and are trapped here. They chose this though (after I only gave them one choice), so they’re on my side.

The other two people I haven’t asked yet because they haven’t even said hi to me yet and I don’t want to embarrass myself by being the one to initiate conversation, but since they haven’t said anything I’m assuming they’re still waiting to say happy birthday to me before leaving promptly.

Future studies will include locking the door from the outside to trap everyone here and induce friendship using the Stockholm Syndrome method. I’d like to thank my funding sources: my parents who are paying a portion of the rent for this apartment where I’m hosting this party and my friends who love me despite my overbearing personality.