Let’s keep this between friends, but for a woman whose primary hobbies include cooking and reading, I love partying a whole lot. I’ll admit, I write to you now in the post-raging haze of sore muscles and hoarse voice, but it’s an affirming sort of tired, and I’ve promised my body countless times that we’ll be healthier from now on. I think it goes without saying that I love the actual party portion of the process, but, before my most recent bonanza, I found myself greatly enjoying the planning, preparation and hype.

Looking through my Daily column history, a study in nerdy neuroticism and the occasional venture into debauchery, it’s no surprise that I feel as if I were built for party planning. I get to make numerous lists and timelines, but the subject matter is far more interesting than the usual problem sets and exam schedules. For this party, I made the usual guest list spreadsheets and agonized over the hors d’oeuvre choices for longer than was strictly necessary. I scoured music blogs like it was my job for the playlist, which was carefully timed to wind down when I promised our neighbors we would. I rearranged furniture with all too much thought given to the flow of crowds and likelihood that our living room could turn into a dance floor. (Verdict? Can it ever.)

I love planning, and I love parties, but I’ve recently found a new part of the process that’s amazingly fun—the hype. It’s strange; I never considered myself social or community manager material, in fact opting for the sadder iteration in that group and communing mostly with groceries. I am so actively bad at circulating and meeting new people at parties that I generally just park in a corner, preferably by some pita chips, and wait it out. But I may have turned into a hype machine these past few weeks. I talked up the party I threw with a nearly religious fervor, promising potential guests the rendezvous of their dreams. My fellow hostesses and I refined our theme and invented a tagline, which punctuated the strategically timed invitation and reminder e-mail. A legitimate graphic designer professionally shopped the flier, and the invitation text was edited carefully by, well, a Daily columnist. Lest you think I did not try hard enough, I’ll own up to the biggest and most embarrassing bit—we made a promotional video. Admittedly, I had to be convinced by roommates who are more fun than I am, but I actually relished my time in the spotlight and am waiting impatiently for the video to go viral.

I enjoyed the hyping process a lot more than I thought I would. It leveraged many of my skills: advanced planning, over-thinking my actions, giving things catchy names and being friendly and unthreatening. It reminded me of the feeling I used to love, circa 2005, when I was serious about high school debate, of all things. It was convincing people that they wanted whatever I was talking about, and reframing as appropriate for the individual and the time. I used to get this slightly deranged look that was my “tell” when I thought I had won a debate, something between a pucker and a smirk. I found myself pucker-smirking as I sold this party, and as soon as I noticed, I felt a little soulless. It does sound a little disturbing—my nefarious plan to make people come to my party using rhetoric (or something), but I promise, this time at least, my intentions were pure. It’s a party! Of course people wanted to come; sometimes they just need a little convincing, and I was happy to oblige. Hype—it’s a satisfying challenge, and it just feels right.

In my excitement, in fact, I may have started the hype for the next soiree I am hosting. All I do is party? I’m not sure how it happened, but I seem to have convinced even myself.

Want to start a party-planning consultancy? Jade’s interested. E-mail her at [email protected].