The Party

I knock on the door, the door opens, and I am in heaven. This is where I belong. The party is where I thrive. As I throw my jacket on the chair, I notice the mood and feel of the party. The lighting is dim, the music is blaring, and the people are everywhere. Awesome.

I am the social shark. I move around from guy to girl to guy again. Everyone loves me. Girls want me, and guys want to be me. I enter the conversation, and people look at me in awe. They know that I am the social force to be reckoned with. I enter a conversation, and then like the wind, I am gone, off to give my social graces to another lucky party-goer.

But wait, there she is. The goddess of my dreams is standing in her group of friends chatting up a typhoon. Gwen is radiant. The gods have truly blessed me tonight with this vision. Wait, she's giving me the first glance, a quick up-and-down. Now, she turns back to her friends. Okay, here comes the moment of truth, the second glance… Wait for it… Yes! There it is. She gave me the second glance. Ah yeah, I am the man. Now's the time for me to move in and make the kill.

"Hey! Who's cheap, scummy leather jacket is this?"

I look behind me at the moron who's trying to yell over the roaring music.

Damn.

Damn. Damn.

This worst of possible situations has come down on me on this blessed night of nights. Franco, the football lineman from Hell, is holding up my jacket. I look back at Gwen, and, damn, she's noticed the huge ape of a man making a scene. Now, I am screwed. Well, let's try to communicate with this monkey. Maybe hand-signals will work…

"Hey, Franco, that's my jacket." I yell.

"Oh, you. Good, now I know whose liquor I'm taking." Franco bellows. And right before my eyes, the freak of nature pulls out my bottle and starts to inhale my whiskey. My bottle. My whiskey. Alright, I have had enough of this. Suddenly, I feel a hand on my shoulder. Ready to take on the world, I whip around, and… standing behind me is my angel.

"Don't worry about him. He is a stupid oaf. All he likes to do is drink all of the time anyways. You are Steve, right?" says Gwen.

I melt on the inside. My dream-made-flesh just spoke to me, let alone touched me. I am butter. She has melted me. Am I still standing? I feel like a pile of putty, ready to be molded in the hands of an artisan like her. Waiting for a response, I sputter something at her. Meaningless dribble, I am sure. I wait for her response, her blessing to me. I am dumbfounded.

The conversation continues about alcohol and how it is used to often to take advantage of women. I just nod my head, and say what she wants to hear. I don't care what she says as long as she is saying it to me. I am bathed in the warm glow of her words. I want this to never end.

Gwen turns around as one of her friends yells from across the room. "It's time to go." says her friend. Gwen turns around and heads off without even a good-bye kiss. Who does she think she's talking to? Get up and leave in the middle of conversation. I am not going to let her get away that easily. Grabbing my jacket, I leave the party.

Outside, Gwen and all of her friends are just sitting around chatting about "this" and "that," so I wait for my opening. As soon as she says bye to her last friend, I pounce.

"Oh hey, sorry I had to leave so quick in there." says Gwen. "My friends get in such a hurry sometimes. I had a good conversation with you. What are you up to now?"

Alright, Steve, here's the moment of truth. Think. What does a maiden like Gwen want to hear? I feel around in my jacket for inspiration.

Grabbing my license, I think about going to a bar in the West End, but I realize that my fake ID is still in my room. Looks like I am going to have to sneak in. So, I say, "Well, I was thinking about trying to sneak into Smitty's Bar down in the West End. You want to come?"

"Whatever floats your boat." says Gwen, "I am just going to go home. It was nice to meet you." She then gets into her car, and leaves.

Slam. There it is. No luck for me. Boy, do I feel ditched. I had her in my hands, and I let her get away. Boy, am I a putz. I really suck. Maybe that bar isn't such a bad idea. I'll go drown away a couple of sorrows.

Catching a cab, I make it over to Smitty's. I find the back door. No one's guarding the door, and I get in and sit down at the bar. The barkeeper looks at me square in the eyes and knows that there is a problem. "Wanna a drink?" he says.

"Yup." I reply, and that starts it going.

Things are getting a little blurry now, and objects aren't staying where they are supposed to be. Plus, I am not feeling too good. I need to get home. I settle up with the barkeeper, and head out. Outside Smitty's, I realize that I need to get home fast, but how? What do you know, there is a cab in front of me. Nice. I am the man.

I get in and the cabby asks, "Where you going?"

"Home." I reply.

"Where's that?" says the cabby.

Not able to communicate where it is for sure, I reach into my pocket for something, and I give it to him.

"Sure." says the cabby. "I can take you there. You just sit back and don't puke in my car."

As I step out of the car in front of the house, I realize that tonight quite possibly is the worst night of my life. The beautiful girl has ditched me. So, I reach into my pocket for my house key.

I grab the key, unlock the door, and walk in. I can hear the funeral bells now. My life is over. I am the eternal moron.

As I lay in bed trying to get to sleep, all I can think about is what went wrong. Dude, I was smoking hunk of man when I got to the party. What made me into such a loser? I wish I could try this night over again.