The 3 People At The Party You Don’t Know The Name Of

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“OH SHIT!”. You have never called this guy by his name. You both normally just say “OOOH SHIT!” when you see each other at a party. You are only “friends” because you share a friend, share a class, or share the same love for Breaking Bad. His job is to provide free liquor to you as you go over the same information for the third time this month. “Marketing major? Nice. What are you trying to do with that?” You both have said your names to each other at least twice, but it’s too embarrassing to admit that you don’t remember. He offers you shots, jokes, and political opinions that lean a little bit too far right for your liking, but he’s not a bad guy. He is what gets your night started, what kick starts your liver, and what brings you to the dance floor so you can awkwardly gyrate on one or two freshmen that are NOT into it.
“I Can’t Even”. You have seen this girl at every party, on every dance floor, with every guy. She goes out every weekend AND most weeknights. You know she’s been with at least 20 guys, but that doesn’t affect your view or opinion of her. You respect women and their choice to get plowed by as many engorged fire hoses as their dirty snatch can fit. When you see her, she runs over to you like a dog seeing its owner come home from war. She doesn’t know your name and you try your hardest to remember hers because… you know… vagina. You talk about “how fucked up I am right now. I can’t even.” You pretend to be at her level of drunk so you can contribute to the conversation, but you know she is going to leave you for another cup of jungle juice in about a minute. She makes you feel comfortable going out on a Tuesday because you know you can never get any lower than her.
“One More Beer”. You fucking hate this guy. He is always next to the keg around 2 am trying to drink his incel balls off when you just need one more beer. He is there to offer bad advice, long gross burps, and not much else. This guy sucks, but you mean everything to him. Seeing you makes his day better and his suicide note shorter. He thinks that seeing you more than once means you are friends, and he will not hesitate to let you know that. You don’t give enough of a shit to know his name, but he says your name at the end of each sentence as a psychological tactic to try and get closer to you. “Yea I’m still a virgin but that’s only becauseI don’t like talking to girls, Conall.” His beer gut spills out of his shirt like the spit from his mouth when he talks about anime. The conversation normally goes for about 10 minutes with you just agreeing with whatever he says so you can leave quicker. You even had to text a friend one time to come and save you from this fat fucking loser after he said his cousin was “kinda hot.”

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