Chucky's Jamboree

Hey there, kiddies!  I promise not to post anymore questionnaires.  I went to a party Charlie's house last Friday and here's what went down:

First of all, I must say that something has come to my attention at the last few parties I've been to.  People for some reason or another seem to want to cater to me.  Yes, in a Beyonce sort of way but not quite as hot.  I think it has something to do with the fact that I don't drink.  People assume that I'm not having any fun.  It's not true, kiddies.  I have loads of fun standing around bullshitting and watching other people.  It's what I do.  I don't drink, I don't dance, but I do have fun.  I am awkward and shy but it takes very little to amuse me.  I guess I should be happy that people care so much but I don't want it to detract from their good-times, which will detract from mine.

Having said all that, here's what happened at Charlie's party.  I'm there for about a half hour before people really start to show up and it's kind of boring because of that.  Then people start to show and the ever popular familiar faces come through the door which puts me more at ease.  In comes Marco whom I haven't seen since high school, save My Space, of course.  He's all, "Holy shit," happy to see me.  He missed the Summer Jam (as did everyone else) but he had to work so he's excused. 

Here it comes now:  He starts enjoying himself and we're all talking and he says something like, "Aaron's here, man.  Everytime I look at him, I feel sad [like he's not having any fun]."  To which I'm like, "Huh, dude, what?"  And then he says I'm (Aaroon) gonna have some boobies in my face by the end of the night and I may even impregnate a girl or two.  I just go along with it but not getting my hopes up.  I continue to talk to folks around me and Marco goes off to wherever.

As I'm talking to people, I can see Marco, essentially, propositioning girls for me.  I can hear the girl say, "Who?" and that Marco is pointing at me.  I immediately look over and see which girl he's talking to.  Let's just say I'd rather he was talking to somebody else or a couple other somebodies to be polite to the girl.  I turn to Butch and tell him what's going on.  He's like, "Whoa."  And I'm like, "I know."

So I think to myself that this probably still isn't going to happen so I don't really plan a response.  Later on, I'm in the kitchen having a serious conversation about film with a fellow filmmaker, Daniel.  It's rare you find someone else at a party who actually knows the trials and processes that go into filmmaking, so I'm enjoying the opportunity.

Then here comes Marco and girl who will remain nameless.  If you were there, you know.  If you weren't there, you should've thought of that, shouldn't you (to quote Depeche Mode's "Policy of Truth")?  I know she went to my high school but I never knew her.  I can hear Marco saying, "Here he is" and it's at this point I take action.  The girl literally has her hands on her shirt, ready to lift, as I turn towards them (them being her, her boobs, and Marco).

I put my hand out like a stop sign (not like a groper in th park) and say, "Listen, I know what you're gonna do, I appreciate the gesture but it's not necessary.  (To her) Thank you very much.  (To Marco) Thank you."  I turn away.  I think the two of them just walk away or something, I don't really remember.

As the girl leaves later that night, she passes by and I shout, "Thanks again!" to no response. 

Now, I've had my doubts as to whether I did the right thing.  On the one hand I'm thinking, BOOBIES (I apologize for the crude term, ladies, but given the circumstances I find it appropriate)!!!  On the other hand I have a few reasons for saying no thanks:

1.  I'm a gentleman and it's somewhat degrading for her to do it.

2.  I didn't want to see her sweater pillows, fun bags, or knockers, and whatever else she may have been hiding under her shirt.

3.  I ain't the guest of honor at no pity party.  I could get a girl to show me her boobs on my own, I think.  I take some offense to the idea of needing help.  Help's always good but let's have some discretion when we're choosing boob donors.

So there you have it.  Big events.  Good-times.  And a story to tell.  Remember what I have told you kiddies and let's party again in the future.  Oh yeah.