The Pick-Up Chronicles Part III

Chapter 4.
The First Parties.


I'm a jealous bitch.

Somebody said to me that jealousy comes from insecurity. But I believe that it comes from fear. Or lack of trust. This time is not the case. (And It's not the subject either).

So, I was left scared when I saw what college was about.
It was supposed to be about people studying and being their little brother's example (I had a poor conception of life, remember?). So I started to wonder if I ever would find a place of my own. I hated that. That people had issues man, that people spent their lives without a purpose, without the slightest idea of what they wanted for themselves when it ended, they just wanted to party. They just wanted to smoke and drink. They just wanted to live comfortably and get it all easy. And the worst part: I was starting to be THEM.

I started to drink on that party where my buddy took me, maybe, in fact I don't really remember the first time I drank. I remember the first time I smoked and it was awful, and I also remember the first time I learned how my body worked. But I'm soooo not telling you.

Well, I didn't like that. But I needed to socialize, and this was the time. So I started to go to parties. There was a lot of beer, awful music and I liked it. And, by the time I started to go out a lot, I just didn't knew how that worked, the reason why of all that people gathered and it really made me feel out of place. Well I was. The only thing on my mind was that, somewhere in the world, (maybe somewhere near) there was a special girl who was thinking exactly the same, who looked at the stars and thought about it too. Now that I think about it, I'm hopelessly romantic. .)

I used to got bored at parties. Yes, they're parties, they're for fun. Sure...
Later on I discovered that they worked as human gatherings for the very purpose of self-display and for the seek of receptive potential partners for physical intercourse. You don't believe me, you said?
Ok, let's think of a party situation: You get there. There is people who tried to dress well, ok? The house's owner swept the floor, washed the restroom, washed the dishes, tried to made it all looked perfect. For the good of his/her own image. Then, more people. More man than women, as usual (the reason behind this is because girls tend to believe that they're not meeting the love of their lives at a house party and therefore, when they go, they form packs...), and, there is always a guy who talks to everyone about how rich, handsome, talented or whatever he is. He is trying to demonstrate value (but he is not, *hint*). The girls who are not in a current relationship, get to the party dressed to kill and they usually tend to move all over the place to display themselves. Guys are trying to hook-up with someone for the night, but when they fail, they usually get drunk. And they fail because they think that the process is: meeting, drinking and then sex. I'll talk about the sequence later, but I wanted to explain my particular view first.

I got bored there, but college had it's funny side.
Everyday after school ended, we used to stand by the freeway and ask for a ride to the passing trucks. And, no matter how long we had to wait, we always rode for free. We made jokes and laugh for days about them. We did radio and we loved it. But it still was boring.

I got used to parties and to not so heavy drinking after a while and thought my life was gonna be like this from then on.
But there was something that changed my life. Well, someone. Well... let me tell you:

I was a good student, got great notes and had awesome plans who always stopped in their tracks for the lack of resources or will from others. But, there came a girl from UK who made my universe wider. I only knew what my lil' town had to give, but the things she told me and the way she used to move and act were nothing but prove that I needed to go far beyond my wildest limits to get to someone like her. We became friends. I was his assistant in an English class, given the case that I had passed the TOEFL test and there wasn't need for me to take a class, but to give it. I liked her. But I was a shy guy, who dressed bad and leaned to anyone who paid me a little attention. I needed to change.

One day, she invited me to a party. I was happy. C'mon! She was gorgeous, and she was going with her friend, who was as cute as she. So I was gonna spend the night with two pretty girls at an elite party. It was all perfect, until I went for a vodka and found them making out with some random guys. I freaked out. I had no chance to tell a girl to make out with me to feel less pain or chance to run away, because I was was too far from the city. So I waited. And yes, I got drunk. I wandered around the tennis courts and the swimming pools until the girls called me to go back to town. I agreed and jumped on a car that was not the one we came in. In the car there were the guys my so-called "friends" were making out with. The guys speaked in Spanish about going to a motel with the girls and dropping me somewhere near so I could catch a cab. I couldn't believe it. There was enough clarity in the girls to tell the driver to take me somewhere safe, while at the same time, enough craziness to fuck guys they had just met.

That was odd.
And I learned that, anywhere in the world, the same rules apply when it comes to this game.
I thought I had learned enough, but, that night, I was proved wrong.

End of Chapter 4.