Tigers, Monkeys, Lions Galore

I find it astonishing, how we pay money to go to a social event, and then all we do is get humiliated. Not humiliated by someone, but by ourselves. How we anticipate this extravagant event, with tons of bois, and making new friends.

In reality, in the back of our minds, we all know we will stand around in the corner. While the person that invited us socializes, and flaunts their hotness. With all of the others just like this. That while they are dancing, and half faced drunk, not knowing if that thing they are making out with is a drag queen or an actual girl. They dance the night away, oblivious to all of the worlds problems, set that everything is going to be okay. They spend countless dollars on their high end Versace, Prada, and Armani. They huff, and puff that magic weed, or take some pixie up the nose. They complain that their “Boy Make Up" is smeared, and how much their Mac costs. They grumble over how hot the others guys “Girl Pants" are, and how they are, “So tight they can't barely dance."

In this instant we come to the conclusion this is not where we belong. While they might see it fit, we actually have to work for a living, we actually have to shop on the American Eagle sales rack, that we actually don't have to dance like a ghetto ass bootylicous black girl, that we don't have to look like a manerexic pale ass bitch, that we can actually consume something every other day besides a piece of lettuce.

And in this remarkable state of individuality you find other people just like you. Standing to the sidelines looking around, baffled about how much these people care about meaningless bullshit. That after we meet these people, we can talk. And after all of the awkwardness, we find ourselves at Waffle Houses, eating actual food, and having a good time; Talking about everything from the tranny chasers, to the trannies themselves. And having one of the best times we have had in forever...

And then there is nothing more then leaving and exchanging a few smiles. Then realizing that the one I thought was the most adorable of these boys liked me. That his cute smiles, and charming wit, will always outshine the 17 year old estrogen farting fairies. He was so shy, and when he asked for my number he actually stuttered. His bashful red cheeks and his brow eyes reminded me of the local Golden Corral hottie.

Cheers,

T