Letters to the Editor
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The long way 'round
I've thought over the past few years that one of the biggest, and most unexpected, boons of growing older was a decreasing interest on my part what other people think of me. The better I know myself, bumps and warts included, the less I am concerned about them being found out by others. I'm sure there are little traits and major flaws that are glaringly visible in my character, but gee, I just don't seem to be as bothered by them now that I know their shapes and approximate sizes. I figure anyone who has hung around me long enough has probably noticed, too, and if they're still my friends, then there's not much to worry about. Actually, close friends probably noticed the advantages and flaws long before I did.
In my unsolicitied and purely subjective view, the LW in this case needs to look at why he frets that people he considers close friends know him so little that they would boot him when the laughter stops. He seems to me, in a rather adolescent manner, to be focused entirely on what people think of him, rather than who he really is. People already know who he is (and if they don't after all these years, then that's a sign of sociopathic posturing and someone like that wouldn't be writing Cary for advice).
Relax, LW. Your friends like you for who you are. Pay attention to them, enjoy their company, and be your good old, antic-loving, boring, neurotic self. That's why they keep inviting you to parties.
And if you are bored with your old antics, then stop them. It won't change who you are.