It is 11 o'clock and the house party is drawing to its end - exam day tomorrow.
You were invited and accepted into her apartment by Charlotte, you saw no sign of overt hostility there, the wine was flowing, the music good, and she made sure that you were at ease.
With the hostess at your side, as well as a few classmates you knew well, you felt confident enough to talk to other guests. In practice, these conversations were mostly them doing the talking and you approving their sentences with laughter and exclamations. This role of yesman, sidekick, is your eternal role and you have learned to embrace it dutifully; you've always feared that if you take the helm, and start telling your own anecdotes, the audience would be lukewarm at best, suddenly hurrying to refill their glasses at the buffet at worst. You had anxiously rehearsed several times before the party a brief presentation of yourself, taking pains to hide your years of NEETing, but you were never asked anything besides your current line of study; so you were altogether very relieved to discover the past hasn't got as much importance as you thought.
Even the girls - yes, the girls! - were surprisingly welcoming and nice. You hadn't much to tell them, though, and you had a lot of trouble maintaining eye contact. This always resulted in awkwardness and a short exchange, despite your frantic efforts to find shared topics of interest.
You have noticed a few disconcerting things here and there, such as this one particular girl being very cold to you for no evident reason (you don't even know her), or three handsome, charismatic males completely monopolizing the attention, leaving absolutely no room for competitors... You also felt somewhat uncomfortable when words with sexual connotations were sometimes uttered. But you brushed these off - after all, you should be content to have been invited to the party of one of the most beautiful, popular girls on campus.
As every guest leaves one after another, a strong feeling of despair invades you - such a good time, such a privilege to be young, healthy and invited to parties - and yet such a crushing loneliness, such a crushing inferiority complex. You hastily say goodbye to the hostess, not daring to kiss her on both cheeks like most males did, check the right pocket of your jeans for your keys, and head down the stairs, from where distant laughter still echoes. A corridor, then a door. The cold of the autumnal night engulfs you.
You are an ugly man in 2018.
You were invited and accepted into her apartment by Charlotte, you saw no sign of overt hostility there, the wine was flowing, the music good, and she made sure that you were at ease.
With the hostess at your side, as well as a few classmates you knew well, you felt confident enough to talk to other guests. In practice, these conversations were mostly them doing the talking and you approving their sentences with laughter and exclamations. This role of yesman, sidekick, is your eternal role and you have learned to embrace it dutifully; you've always feared that if you take the helm, and start telling your own anecdotes, the audience would be lukewarm at best, suddenly hurrying to refill their glasses at the buffet at worst. You had anxiously rehearsed several times before the party a brief presentation of yourself, taking pains to hide your years of NEETing, but you were never asked anything besides your current line of study; so you were altogether very relieved to discover the past hasn't got as much importance as you thought.
Even the girls - yes, the girls! - were surprisingly welcoming and nice. You hadn't much to tell them, though, and you had a lot of trouble maintaining eye contact. This always resulted in awkwardness and a short exchange, despite your frantic efforts to find shared topics of interest.
You have noticed a few disconcerting things here and there, such as this one particular girl being very cold to you for no evident reason (you don't even know her), or three handsome, charismatic males completely monopolizing the attention, leaving absolutely no room for competitors... You also felt somewhat uncomfortable when words with sexual connotations were sometimes uttered. But you brushed these off - after all, you should be content to have been invited to the party of one of the most beautiful, popular girls on campus.
As every guest leaves one after another, a strong feeling of despair invades you - such a good time, such a privilege to be young, healthy and invited to parties - and yet such a crushing loneliness, such a crushing inferiority complex. You hastily say goodbye to the hostess, not daring to kiss her on both cheeks like most males did, check the right pocket of your jeans for your keys, and head down the stairs, from where distant laughter still echoes. A corridor, then a door. The cold of the autumnal night engulfs you.
You are an ugly man in 2018.
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