He was easy for me to dislike. The memory of his blubbery rolls and constantly shaking jowls still grates. The blinking squinting giggling eyes. The shrill feigned surprise ("Oh, do that again!") - give me a goddamn break. And to the crux - how did he know to take that seat? What do/did I miss?
How did he know they would reward his choice of real estate, the far far corner couch? The party was central when he wandered off, I assumed the loner misfit taking cover, and from my position I could see the whole room and the smoker's patio and both entrances and also my position was located close to the bathrooms and I could knock my knuckles on the bar without even turning my head and more bourbon would be poured, or whatever else I decided was needed. I had established a power position, tried and true, and so I felt sorry for the jiggly man when he wandered over there, poor bastard.
And then there was one hot thing tucked into his left shoulder, her fingers under his shirt, twisting, and his shrill giggles are felt across the room like an assault, and then soon another tucked under his right shoulder and her fingers are likewise dispatched and jiggly man now has the look of one tickled by a hundred feathers, his puffy eyes closing and opening so rapidly, beyond squinting now, as if they are drowning and gasping, as if compelled by the hot young things, the must be working girls. What the hell, and who could not watch? And then the couch was filled with hot young things and then chairs were dragged over and then more chairs and then the couch was pushed out from the wall so more hot young things could squeeze in behind rolly polly man, massage his shoulder, breathe upon his neck, tickle his ears, caress his arm or back or whatever slice of him they can reach, the laughter raucous now, the touching kissing becoming almost obscene.
What the hell indeed. And I am reminded of the directive from the room of lit candles and vibration, Breathe into now. And so here I think I am getting that down and I stumble into the jiggly man who shows me I don't have nothing down. Not a goddamned thing. Compared to him I'm but a novice and the road ahead is long. But, of course, I can choose a silver lining: I've had a look what's down that road and, Damn. That fat man could party.