I like sweaters. To be more specific, I like oversized sweaters in which I can hide. The sleeves have to be long enough to cover my hands on command. The bottom of the material has to hit somewhere in between my knee and middle-upper thigh. Strange, vaguely-Christmas-themed patterns are preferred, but I’m also fond of large pictures of animals and/or 90’s graphics smack dab in the middle.

Unfortunately, some people don’t have the same affinity for such fashion, especially when “going out” is involved. I’m not a fan of parties begin with, be it the uncertainty of people I’ll know there, the uncertainty of being able to trust that people who are drinking really mean what they’re saying to me, or the uncertainty of whether I’ll get home in time to watch an episode of Twin Peaks (my therapist says uncertainty makes me anxious, if you couldn’t tell). The last thing I want to do is have to worry about what I’m going to wear. Thus, I’ll usually just throw on a big, familiar, purchased-from-Goodwill sweater hanging in my closet. Because I’m certain I’ll at least feel comfortable in that.