College parties are interesting. You get all dressed up and feel pretty cool because you got this outfit specifically so you can show it off, so once you're ready you pumped up to leave, then halfway there in the carride you're kind of iffy because you're worried you won't know anyone there. Turns out, you know one person; the one that invited you. So, you trail off toward the fridge, appearing to be calm and collected, but really, you're freaking out on the inside, afraid you may seem sketch, awkward, not cool enough. First beer goes down, eh it's not the best, but it does it's job. You're buzzed. Feeling a little calmer. Well, that's liquid courage for you. Second beer, eh tastes a little better, but still not good. A little more buzzed, fourth beer goes down, you're getting loose and tipsy. Let the party start. You start meeting everyone, shaking hands, leaning on them, hugs are you're absolute best friend. They start engaging in conversation with YOU as soon as you act funny or start laughing for a random reason, you're obviously drunk at this point. Everyone is pretty much your best friend once you're drunker than everyone at the party. They give you more attention, they ask if you want more beer, they joke around more. It's awesome.
I guess what I'm trying to say here is: IT'S GOOD TO BE ME.
Because, well, the 99.9999999% majority of my friends are, in fact, male. Meaning, I get a lot of attention, I get invited a lot of places, including parties, and I overall, have a lot of friends. It's fucking awesome.
Meet you in the Rye, Catch.