Disappointment.

So, this weekend, my roommate, Andrew, planned a party and invited a bunch of people. Now, as we all know, in any given party situation, it is of dire importance to have a relatively even gender balance. However, on Saturday night, I came home from my work Halloween party, and noticed about 10 pairs of men's shoes and 3 pairs of women's shoes. "Oh, shit," I thought to myself. "I fucking knew it. It's a sausage party." And it was. Oh god, how it was.

I had been looking forward to the party, but I knew that Andrew was undoubtedly exaggerating when he said that there would be at least 10 girls coming to his little get together...3 girls is effectively a party disaster of monumental proportions. Do you know what happens when you throw 4 or 5 girls into a party with 15+ guys, and then soak said party down with hard alcohol? Hmmmm? Well, I'll tell you.

It sucks with the ferocity of a thousand daisy-chained Hoovers. It bites like a swimming pool filled with piranhas. It stinks like the rotting, maggot-infested carcasses of a landfill's worth of dead skunks.

Men are under the terrible influence of a vicious drug called testosterone. Even among the best of us, testosterone leads to occasional senseless aggression and occasional hostility. Pour in a bunch of alcohol, and drop a not spectacular collective IQ by another 20 or 30 points, and you have your basic party clusterfuck.

Back to the party...of the 4 females who came, 2 of them left around 11, and that left 2 for the rest of the evening. I think you can see where this is going. The party thinned out, but they were still outnumbered about 4 or 5 to 1. So lame.

I ended up out of the porch alone with both of them separately at various points in the evening and they seemed interested, but I wasn't particularly interested in giving chase, as I have done plenty of that in the last few months. I am pretty much fed up with it. Guys who don't really give a shit, strangely enough, tend to be catnip for the ladies, however, and I kept ending up alone with them out of the porch. Fine then. One of them was hungry, so I walked her down to the nearest convenience store and asked her if she'd like to join me on the bank of the Edogawa for some privacy. She said yes. Fine.

So, on the way to the river, which involved walking back by the apartment, we were intercepted by Andrew, who said that Joe, my other roommate, who had invited the girl, was having a total hissyfit because I had disappeared with her. Apparently Joe is under the impression that women are not sentient beings capable of making their own decisions, but pliable little love toys who exist solely to service him sexually. He had taken to sticking knives in the ceiling to illustrate his rage. Fucking douchebag.

Whatever. I didn't know this girl, didn't have any particular connection to her, and the party was already pretty much a tidal wave of bullshit, as far as I was concerned. I could have escalated the situation in various ways, but the reality is that the easiest course of action was to just go upstairs and placate the douchebag, who I think I will hereafter refer to as "The Douchebag."

Clearly, however, The Douchebag's butt is still chapped by the fact that "his" girl liked me, because he's been a passive aggressive prick for the last 2 days. God, how I hate this high school bullshit. He's leaving on the 10th, and I am really looking forward to it.

Anyway. Once I start getting paid, I won't have to look forward to lame-ass excuses for parties to enhance my social life.

I'm including this sunset pic because it is cool and I like to use beauty to conquer negativity. Here's the beauty, from my porch:

Click to make it bigger.