I hate leaving.
Actually, hate is a pretty strong word, so allow me to rephrase: I fucking loathe leaving. It's not that I'm so sentimental that it's hard for me to say good-bye. Saying good-bye is easy if everybody lets you off the hook and you're able to just say, 'well, I'm off, bye.' But it's never that simple. Everybody wants to hug and shake hands and prolong the leaving moment as long as possible.
It's the awkward preamble to saying good-bye to people that I try to avoid most. I generally put people into two categories in regards to leaving: people I hug and people I don't. Nothing's more awkward than having to give or receive a hug because of the fear of someone feeling left out. I hereby give permission for you to not hug me when I leave if you don't want to. I won't take it personally. Just don't expect a hug from me and we're fine.
I'm the kind of guy who'd rather not go to a party just because I don't want to go through all of the drama of leaving. Sometimes I get the feeling that I have to get permission to leave. And there's always somebody who seems disappointed to by your departure. Why is that?
Even weirder than the weirdness that leaving implies is how weird I am about just trying to disappear myself. I've been known to vanish from places if I don't have the energy to say good-bye. I acknowledge that this is strange behavior. It's one of the few eccentricities I allow myself nowadays. The next day or even right when I get home, I will inevitably have to sort through numerous text messages and voice mails inquiring, "where did you go?".
I was drunk so I took off. Don't take it personally.