Stepping into The Keg tonight is like walking into a party where I don’t know anyone and I don’t think that I was invited. Bar to my left. Dance floor to my right. Bathrooms straight ahead. Four dollars. Wristband. Let’s get drinks.

Standing shoulder to shoulder, I feel like if I bump someone I will have to kill or be killed. I flag down the waitress. Eighteen years old. Maybe nineteen. Pretty with makeup, but she probably doesn’t like camping. Or reading. She smiles. I smile.

The first drink always goes down like water. I feel like I need six just to be able to function in this environment. Drunk frat boys all wearing the same button-up shirt and worn out jeans and too much hair gel. Look in the mirror, I say to myself.

Fighting through the crowd to get away from a spot where my presence is clearly unwanted, I move into a spot where my presence is clearly unwanted. Maybe she does like camping. I feel like everyone is looking at me. I probably should have drank more before I left my house.

A girl climbs onto the bar and starts to dance. The crowd cheers. The guys watch. The girls watch. I watch. This is probably a good time to go to the bathroom.

The girl is still dancing when I return to the bar. I’ve lost my spot. I bump into someone. Hard. Sorry about that, dude. Watch your fucking shit, he says. I would love to be at the movies. Or maybe camping. I should go camping soon. I always say that.

I watch the girl some more. I’m fitting in. If I can fake this long enough, I’ll be just like everyone else at this party. I stop faking when I think about the girl and the fact that she’s somebody’s wife. Maybe not now. But someday.

Seven beers later I have a table. My buddy pulls some girls over. One’s named Lisa. Another is Krissy or Missy. She’s beautiful. Or maybe it’s the beers. Talking comes easy after seven. Eight would be better, though.

Two questions into the conversation with Krissy or Missy and she thinks I want to go home with her. I can see it in her eyes. She’s got nice eyes. I probably have drunk eyes. I don’t want to go home with you. I want to come home to you. I want to meet your parents and pay bills over the dinner table. And maybe go camping. I should have said that. No, I shouldn’t have.

Their friend is wasted. The girls leave.

We meet more girls. One of them leans into my ear. You see my friend over there? Yeah, I lie. I can’t see straight.

She thinks you’re cute. Ok, I say. Do you think she’s cute? Yeah, she looks cute from here. Another lie. Will you go talk to her? I actually have to get going, I reply. Three lies. I have work in the morning and I don’t even live around here. Four. Five.

A man selling Streetwise newspapers is the first face I see stepping out onto the sidewalk. I give him a dollar. God bless you, son. I have something else for you, he continues. He hands me three condoms. Cola flavored. You’re gonna need these, I bet, he says. You got that right, I reply.

One more lie and I am on my way home.