The Man I Am

An electric sound fills my ears as I walk through the door. A heavy bass is making the walls tremble.
A thick throng of people are moving within, dancing, dressed up in short skirts and khakis, holding glasses up so the contents don't spill, shouting so they can be heard.
Drums and more electricity.
I walk through the mob, trying to push my way through. The lights are dim and neon. White pupils of women wearing less than little in the sweat of the place stare as I brush past, interested.
Screams and laughter and banter and a couple is sucking each other's face as I find a door to the next room, squeeze past and through.
More crowds, more beats, more lights, more electricity. Drums pounding harder, like a lustful heart. I scan the room.
Across the distance a voice and two peering eyes.
"Chris Miles!" And she's holding a drink. I walk over, people bouncing off me, laughing, the smell of sweat everywhere.
"Come here, come here," and she wraps an arm around me, tight under the influence. "Its just one of those nights."
"I know."
"Crazy. You look nice."
"I know."
And I as she looks at me my thoughts drift and I think of the last time I didn't look good, or try to at least. I'm grinning and caught up in my own narcism as she begins talking again and as she does her eyes gaze at me like she wants something, a sign of the influence.
She drinks, still looking at me, and her chest is in full view of everyone and I'm starring and no one really notices because they're starring too, even the girls and that puts an interesting scenario through my mind and I'm thinking.
"Give up the cockiness, I want you to meet someone, do you want a drink?"
And she pulls my arm and we dodge through the crowd - a lot of crowd - and a short fat girl is making the same run we are, trying to get through the crowd, and we're following her, and people are bouncing off her size and she just darts through like some juggernaut of a running-back, and another girl that doesn't see her coming starts to sip her drink but is suddenly knocked from behind by the sheer force of the fat girl's momentum and she's thrown to the ground, her drink splashing everywhere.
"Fuck you fat girl," I hear.
The fat girl does not hear and bounces in front of us and is bouncing through until we, myself and the girl pulling my arm, hit the dimly lit wall where a group of people are sitting, each with a glass half full.
"Great fun!" She says.
And they all look at me and I'm introduced and they all stare at me and smile with looks of "I've heard of you before!" And I stand there, happy that I am loved.
One girl that is staring at me and leaning on the wall has a flower in her hair.
"That's cute," I say.
And she takes it from her hair and puts it in my coat pocket and I fell loved and continue to fell so as the other girl comes back with a drink and they ask me how I've been.
"Good," and tell them a story of how I was drinking with the president of the alumi association a few nights ago. "He loved me, intro duced me to his wife, bought us all drinks."
And they're intranced with me until my friend comes along and I notice that he's dressed better than I am and has a more expensive drink and all of a sudden he is swarmed in hugs and awe and I am forgotten.
I am pissed.