Today is Friday, the grace-imbued weekend is soon to be upon us. So this evening I’m supposed to meet up with some people I’ve never met before from my old College, I’m a member of our regional graduates chapter and I kind of feel like I should go. I’m not really sure what they look like, tiny little FB pictures don’t help much with distinguishing facial features or body type, so I’m thinking I will orbit around people until I can pick up on what’s going on in people’s conversation.
That’s kind of why I don’t want to go. I don’t want to be the creepy person standing near groups of people with a glass in hand eavesdropping conversations. On the other hand, my social life has been at a low ebb since I moved here last year. I know to get out of this rut I have to grow up and make some friends by actively going out and being entertaining, but there is a big chunk of me that is seriously considering just being a total douche.
It is only a slight exaggeration to say that whenever I go out some effed-up stuff happens to me. So far these incidents include being kicked out of a bar, being chased by a transvestite prostitute, having fifty bucks stolen from me, being told I’m a baby-killer working for Mugabe (by a drunk journalist twice my age), stopping a friend from driving drunk and getting my hand slashed open for the trouble, witnessing over eight real fistfights to which ambulances have to be called, being threatened with rape and murder by two guys in my doorway, and needing to call the cops to get rid of them.
Somehow, since I moved to this city I’ve lost the will to go out. The downside to drinking here is way more than it was when I was in my College towns. The worst I got then was a hangover; here I get physical injury, emotional trauma, a ride with the cops, and a hangover all for a way higher price tag than before.
I guess tonight I will attempt to relive the glory days of my youth in the city which is actively trying to destroy me.
Wish me luck, I will undoubtedly need it.