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When I’m at a good social engagement I usually reach a point of happiness that I manage to never quite realize until happiness passes and sadness and regret take over. It’s a problem I’m helpless to avoid. I have the knack for going out of my way to unintentionally do something stupid when I’m at a party. I’ll be dancing, singing, pleasantly inebriated and enjoying the company of the people who happen to be around me, when I do something that I think could make me happy before I realize that I’m already there. It can be a real problem.
Tonight the object of my delusions is convincing a girl named Cathy to take part in various unmentionable acts with me. There isn’t anything particularly special about Cathy. She’ll never be confused with a swimsuit model, but given the chance most healthy, sane, heterosexual males in my age group would like to not be able mention things they’ve done with her.
Now I see Cathy beyond a haze of ciggarrette smoke in the living the room, but I can’t hear a word she’s saying. My buddy Eric has us packed into his raised ranch, and the majority of party goers are crammed in the living room. I’d say about about fifteen of us fill that room, with another ten scattered throughout the house doing god knows what. Anyway, I can’t hear this chick because some mongoloid decided it would be a good idea to put on the latest triumph of an incoherent rap star featuring Puff Daddy, and felt that it was an art form best interpreted at a high volume. Whatever.
The point here is that I’ve only got a short amount of time before Cathy gets to her second beer, and begins to become too drunk for me to pursue relations. Granted, I want this chick, but I’m not an asshole. I could very easily stand over there, and bottle-feed her cheap Vodka until her decision making process favors my chances of showing her the time of my life.
That is not the way I operate, however. My damn conscience won’t let me. It makes sense though, when you consider it, since my conscience has more active time in my head than my libido. Not much, but enough to call the shots.
“What’s up man?” said a squeaky voice that could only belong to my friend Ryan.
“That,” I said, nodding my head toward Cathy.
“Dude, I hope your kidding. That bitch is stuck-up like a 7-11.”
“Stuck up like a 7-11? What the hell’s wrong with you? Freakin’ Shakespheare over here. Look Ry, just cause she shut you down, doesn’t mean she’s closed for business.”
“I’m just sayin’ man. Good luck,” Ryan said as he turned away looking for a guest more willing to discuss the finer points of picking up high school girls. “Hey, if you can’t score in the NCAA, then you might as well play in the interscholastic league,” I heard him mumble to someone else. I basically know that I’m well on my way to ruining the night. I really have no chance with this girl, but I think she’ll make me happy.
This isn’t horrible compared to the way I normally ruin my night. Usually it begins with about eight shots of tequila, and then me running around jumping on the furniture yelling, “Hulk Smash! Hulk hate puny humans! Hulk is the strongest there is!” Then a period of fuzzy memories which feature me being kicked out is all I can account for before regaining full consciousness six blocks from my home scrounging through the dumpster of a Chinese restaurant for breakfast .
No this is very mild, I assure you.
I really have to go over there and break into the conversation she’s having with Amy before she gets to that second beer. I stride across the room. Slowly but surely, careful not be obvious. I don’t wan t to look like some goofy fool, and make a b-line for the broad. I chat with a few people, and work my way over. Ease into it, ease into it.
Finally I’ve reached the target. “Hey Cathy what’s up?” I say as I praise myself for the neat timing I’d worked out. That allowed Amy to disappear as I stepped in catching Cathy alone.
“Nothing, Jimmie."
“Oh you know, just doin’ the party thing. You having a good time?”
“Definitely. Listen Jim, I’ve really got to tell you something. I really enjoyed talking to you yesterday.” Excellent she was responding to my prep work. I knew I’d need something to start with so I had a conversation with her. Deep stuff like relationships, and a bunch of other crap. I try to come off sensitive.
“I just want to tell you that I really consider you a good friend.”
Great. Now I’ve ruined the happiness. The stabbing pain in my chest is enough to confirm that I was indeed quite happy about twenty minutes ago. Now I’m a friend and the world has collapsed on top of me. I’m basically assured of no sex tonight, no sex in the near future, and no sex no matter what, because I’ve landed in the circle of friends from which no sex ever originates. Hooray for the purgatory of teasing smiles, and friendly hugs that never lead to anything but severe sexual frustration on my part. Hell no, time to put an end to that. “Cathy did anyone ever tell you what a stuck up bitch you are?” I said.
“What?”
“No really, I mean I’m getting out of here before you make me vomit.” Well now that I’ve completely ruined my night, I head for the back deck and look for friends. An empty deck leads me to believe they’re funneling in the bathroom. Oh well, no matter, nothing can save this night. I’ve spent my happy moments. Then again, I wonder if there’s any tequila.
