Analysis of a Party

---------- Forwarded message ---------
From: Wolf Alexander <congressmanalexander@gmail.com>
Date: Mon, Nov 25, 2024 at 8:39 AM
Subject: Analysis of a Party
To: Seth Sturm <sethsturm@gmail.com>, <mrbillybobjimbo@yahoo.com>

Happy Friendsgiving!

That was last night. At a party. That's why I called it "Analysis of a Party." This essay. 

Warm your tires.

There was one girl I wanted to talk to. She didn't like me.

We said hello as she came in and I got the same look I hate getting. "Oh hello. (He likes me and is going to bother me, great.)"

I get that a lot, probably because during a stiff standard greeting I don't get to be myself, which I don't like. And my dislike of the general situation translated in a way she didn't like, so her impression of me was lousy, and she didn't like me. 

I know I am good looking but that's not the spark. Charm is the spark. And I wasn't charming.

Anyway, she went inside with her mom and grandmother I think. I stayed outside, smoking. The "cousin" at Thanksgiving dinner who bails to smoke a joint outside.

All night. I was waiting for my other "cousin" to join me. That hot girl I was hoping was bad and would want to eat at the rebels' table.

She didn't come out. Even though I made myself noticeable all night. But I never bothered her. Once I found myself in front of her and she was so pretty I couldn't help smiling with unreserved glee. She saw me smile and fled. 

:0)

There was another boy there. Another "hunter." I let her have him. All night. Why compete when it's up to her? 

However I made sure she saw me, often enough to remember. I am conspicuous in unassuming ways, deliberately. I put flair into how I walk around, and serve myself at the buffet… whatever I am doing while in the sight of the apple of my eye, I do like Steve McQueen.

Maximum rebel boy. 

My competition was doing the opposite. I am not a schmoozer. I want to do stuff. And if that's talking I want to talk about doing stuff. 

So I don't enjoy dinner party small talk and light flirting. And that's what he was doing, well. I make it a life practice to not do anything I don't enjoy doing. 

What I do enjoy is jamming outside and smoking weed, so I did that. 

She didn't take the bait. She didn't like me from that first impression and wasn't going to investigate me like I was hoping. Even though she loved the roasted ribs I made. Maybe she didn't know I made them. 

Didn't matter. No matter how much I impressed her, her first impression was granite. She didn't like me.

That pissed me off. Not at her. I wasn't mad at her not liking me. I was mad at myself for not hitting a homer when she said hello.

Right afterward I said "I am going to get her to like me."

*****

Prepare to fast forward! Fast forward! 

Her grandmother came outside heading for the car and home. "Alexander! Knock the cover off the ball."

I reached behind my back and grabbed for a few of my cards.

Next her mom came out, with her close behind. Her grandmother might have gone back in I wasn't paying attention. 

"Girls! I am running for Congress! Can I give you a card?"

Works every time. It's the lightest, most casual possible way of giving a girl my phone number.

Except all I had done was hand a girl a card from a boy she didn't like. Waste of time.

But I had time. I had a moment. Her mom went back inside to grab her grandmother I think, and she and I were alone on the porch for a minute.

Fastball. High and hard.

"Weed?" I asked. "Weed?" Not another word. I held out my pipe. 

I found her rebel. 

*****

What time is it?

Now.

"Caitlin" you are so hot. If you are reading this and you don't text me you should wear Princeton colors.

*****

She got excited and said "yeah" or something and moved closer and I handed her the pipe. JACKPOT. All night she ignored me and I caught her as she was leaving. MINE! lol. For a moment. Just a moment she was mine. And I was hers. 

We were partners in crime together. She said something about getting yelled at by her mom for smoking, as she started to smoke. My kind of girl.

I "covered" her. "Oh you'll be fine," or something like that I said, half jokingly, half like her forever knight. Meanwhile I scrambled to get more Bold Dust Powder (marijuana) out for her. I had her but only just, and anything clumsy or slow would scare her away.

I hit that fastball all the way out of Forbes Field. As she left she turned and said goodbye several times, like in an 80's teen comedy. All smiles and eagerness. 

Which she lost as soon as she went to my newspaper, radio or television station, and read heard or watched something like this.

"Caitlin," I am the full Monty. Python and rebel demon both. A rocket ride of your life. So. Sounds like fun to me. You look like fun to me.