Uncomfortable Social Situations

Uncomfortable social situations are my specialty. Take the company break room this morning. I was making a vat of cocoa (and when I say vat, I am not fucking around. I swooped up a Brew Keg from 7-11 that holds fifty-five ounces of hot liquid. On a cold bitch of a morning like this, it holds me together like steel) when a fellow employee walks in. I have my back turned to him, so I ask him how his holiday was (being as I had the past two weeks off). We engage in lighthearted banter and I turn to look at him and immediately notice that his eye is swollen shut. Needless to say, I was taken aback. He notices the look of horror on my face and acts as if I offended him and walks away. Well excuse me, Mr.Sensitive but your fucking eye is swollen shut. Should I act like I did not notice? Christ.

Upon further reflection, I was then reminded of an even more uncomfortable social situation I experienced. I was out barhopping in lower downtown Denver. I consumed many spirits and was feeling loose but focused. Our group eventually made its way to a dance club, which was peculiar because nobody in our group liked to dance. We waded through a sea of sweaty young people contorting their bodies to shitty house music and bellied up to the bar. After a shot or four, I decided to hit the dance floor and fuck some shit up. Nobody joins me; not even the women in our group. So there I am, drunk, alone and swaying on the dance floor. I feel somebody rubbing on my ass. I glance back and notice an attractive female smiling at me. We proceed to engage in what the kids call “bumping and grinding” for almost an hour nary saying a word to each other. Finally, I become parched and invite the young lady to the bar offering to buy her a drink. She informs me that her and her friends are getting ready to leave but thanks me anyway. I ask her if I can get her number and take her out sometime. She smiles and then reaches in her purse for a pen. She hands it to me and I write her number down on a cocktail napkin. I reach out to shake her other hand (now keep in mind its dark in this club and I am totally obliterated so my powers of observation are skewed) and instead I grab a stump. She did not have a fucking hand. I jump back, completely surprised and utter, “Holy shit! Where is your fucking hand?!” She stares at me for what seems like an eternity and then says, “You are an asshole.” Good times.

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