Classic: minus the class
May 26th, 2007 RachelIt’s an age old story.
Boy meets girl. Girl and boy connect…and this is the part where y’all have lost me.
Girl and boy get piss drunk and make out up against the wall/on a table/in an armchair like they’re a couple of teenagers in their parents’ basement.
Last night, myself and about twenty others were in close proximity of at least three couples who couldn’t seem to make the next move…back to someone’s apartment. The kissing, the groping, the drunken teetering. It’s all very ‘meh, whatever…’ to the people around you…until you’ve been going on and on like this for thirty minutes. And then an hour goes by. Then you’ve sucked us into wondering why the hell neither of you can suggest moving your little two person party onto furniture you actually own.
Girls, boys. You’re obviously having a good time. You’ve picked a nice lounge-y type bar, with an intimate setting (which means your sexual tomfoolery is happening far too close to my stool) and some alright music. Your goofy grins are making it abundantly clear that “the night’s still young”.
Can it be young back at his place? Or her place? Or anyplace other than in this cramped hallway area of the bar? While your awkward moves and slobbery kisses laced with alcohol are offering the person sitting next to you (me) a good laugh (the kind where you snort a little, then laugh even harder both at the unfortunate scene and the unexpected laugh-snort), it’s also a bit like watching a car accident on the side of the road. I really don’t want to be like all the other people around you staring and talking, but it’s magnetic and though I feel guilty, I can’t help it and OH MY LORD IS HIS HAND SUPPOSED TO BE THERE IN PUBLIC AND HOW ON EARTH IS SHE OKAY WITH THAT RIGHT NOW.
So go home, get lucky (stay safe!) and stop treating the pre-party like the freakin’ main event.
