While it began as a potentially enjoyable gathering of people, it quickly degenerated into a Purple Rain sorority party.
Everyone remotely interesting and/or male seemed to dissipate into thin air leaving us, the last three dudes, alone amid a room of semi-awkward nerds and a couple hootin-an-a-hollerin' Texans.
Why is everyone from Texas so damn proud?
"Wooo hoo, we've got some big motherfuckin flies down here! God bless Texas!"
For lack of any other options, the Texans and the pasty girls began to dance together and gyrate in various androgynous ways while mouthing Prince lyrics along with the music.
At this point, the situation departed planet endearing and set a course straight for the black hole of pathetic embarrassment.
Full speed ahead.
An ambassador from the penile-challenged contingent came over to berate us for not dancing with her nerdly friends. She openly questioned the last time any of us got laid and repeatedly pointed out how her friends were "horny", although one could never tell that by the way they danced.
There were several ways to explain why we weren't dancing:
A. I don't like dancing. B. I'm tired and I just want to talk. C. Prince sucks. D. Your friends are busted.
I chose answer E, and pretended to be gay. Yes, I've reached a new low, but it would have been rude to tell her that I don't like dancing to shitty music with unattractive people.
