Going to a Party?

For us, the weekend was little different from the rest of the week. I'd hang out with Heather for awhile, we'd have some fun, she'd express some annoyance with my current deadbeat attitude, she'd get tired, I'd go home and play video games with the guys until we passed out. Bliss. Being fashionably unpopular, we weren't bothered by invitations to parties or events or anything.

Heather was not quite at such a low social level as I. While not by any means a member of the elite, she would speak to people and make friends and basically all the things I couldn't be bothered with doing at that point. She would get invited to parties. I never wanted to go. Occasionally I'd make some excuse to get out of it. More often than not, I'd do that 'no complaints but dragging my feet' sort of thing that men like to do when they are trying to avoid both a fight and doing something they don't want to do. I'd end up not having clean enough clothes or I'd 'lose track of time' doing my schoolwork and she'd end up going with one of her girlfriends. When I did go, I'd be quiet because I had no one I wanted to talk to. For awhile she stopped inviting me. She didn't argue with me, didn't speak her mind about it so, being the dimwit I was, I thought everything was fine.

I have no clue why she bothered to put up with me at this point. I must have been a horrible boyfriend. My guess is that she saw this as a phase I was going through that I would snap out of sooner or later.

This situation came to a head when Heather got invited to Carol Allen's party in November of that year. Carol was in the social elite of the school and, therefore, mostly unknown to me. She was this pretty but vapid blond gal that had a boyfriend on the big football team in Madison and the party was for him for some game he'd done well in or something. I like football but college football leaves me cold. I hadn't seen the game or cared about it. I was even less interested in going when I heard that I was expected to dress 'nice'. Not 'up', not 'fancy', just 'nice'. Business casual. This went against all my slacker principals. I declined. Heather just looked at me, shrugged her shoulders, and left.

Ten minutes later, the 'As' attacked me verbally. It could have been worse. They'd thrown things at me before. The 'As' were the young ladies that lived next door to Heather in the dorm: Abigail and Angela. They explained in language simple enough for me to understand that I was working my way out of my boyfriend position with this attitude and that going to this party was Important. Once they got the guilty look on my face, they knew they had me. So that I couldn't change my mind or forget, I was marched to Heather's room in order to declare my intent to go. Once I reassured her that this would happen, she was very happy indeed. Her smile was bright and genuine. She hugged me without pausing to consider my smell. She began talking excitedly about what we'd need to do to prepare.

Even though the As gave me a thumbs-up and a 'good boy' grin, my heart was sinking. At this point it occurred to me that I'd have to buy some khaki pants and that seemed like too much of an adult thing to do. I was sad.

Our Tale of Woe Begins

Cast your mind back, to a long past time. There's a different President. No one had heard of the band Maxi Starr so it was also a better time. We all thought that the Verdant 'Venger was dead. And a man for that matter. I am in college.

I have hair to my collar. My sideburns are super bushy and are connected by a thin beard. I am super skinny, just a shade above skeletal. I have a dozen t-shirts, which I cycle through in order, wearing them until either I can't stand them anymore or, more often, my girlfriend gets sick of them and washes them for me. I am a sophomore. I am lazy. I am an idiot.

Freshman year both wore me out and made me 'smart'. I felt I'd figured out how to schedule my classes so that I could get my work done and still have plenty of free time. This free time left me comfortable and lead me to figure out what I could get away with skipping. In this I had the help of my good friends Scott and Mike. I watched movies, played video games, drank tons of soda, and spent time with Heather. Schoolwork was secondary. I was having a great time mortgaging my future. All was well.

Except for Eric.

You might remember Eric. Excitable fellow. Grand plans for himself. Freshman year we were buddied. He was crazy but I've never minded some crazy in and of itself. Goodness knows I'm not exactly normal by most people's definition. Sophomore year he freaked out on us. His initial argument was that our more casual attitude towards our schoolwork did not fit in with his plans for the future. This soon twisted and mutated into a quest to show my girlfriend that I was no longer worthy of her and that she should leave me behind for a more suitable companion, namely, himself. He embarked on a campaign to humiliate me, somehow figuring she'd be impressed with how clever he was instead of viewing him as some childish idiot, which she did. Considering I was already impressively idiotic at this point and she was still with me, I don't know what he thought would be enough to accomplish his goal.

Still, he tried. Boy did he try.