If You See Me at a Party Being Manipulated and Lied to by a Skinny Guy in a Band Don’t Bother Saving Me

By Anonymous | Photo by Lizzy Morearty

I mean it speaks for itself. It’s every girl’s dream, right??? Right???? Right guys???

You’re at a frat party, and you almost don’t see him, he’s no wider than a piece of loose leaf and as pale as a ghost, he basically doesn’t exist at all. The only way you can tell he is there is the beacon of light emanating from his greasy hair, it’s almost blinding. 

Where was I? Oh yeah, he walks up to you, he’s just above eye level. You have boots on, maybe he has like an inch on you at most. His jeans are baggy, you look down, you’re literally wearing the same jeans and they’re huge on him. 

“I saw you from over there, you have cool style,” his voice cracks, is that supposed to happen to a 20 year old?

His love languages are pointing at people and telling you how he knows them, walking away for fifteen minutes, and asking you if you know that one band with fifty listeners. 

“Have you heard Urpy Durpy by Flubby Wubby? Dude it’s sick you have to give it a listen.”

Then he pulls out the ultimate move: The guitar. You genuinely have no idea where it came from, as if it was an apparition it just appeared in his hand. 

“Do you like 90s rock?” He says with a half smile. 

You stand there, paralyzed by something evil, as he starts playing She’s Electric by Oasis. Fuck. Like it works. I’m disgusted. 

You don’t know if it’s the self-loathing or the knowledge that he will never care about a single thing you say, but something about it is enticing, so you ignore the survival skills telling you to flee.

Maybe therapy would do you good…