“You are not sitting here all night Spencer.” I can if I want trust me. We’ve been at Ego for what seems like hours when in reality it’s been…30 minutes? What? No that can’t be.

                “I’m here Madison, what else could you want?” I ask. She takes a glance around the crowded club, no doubt looking for something extremely ‘fun’ for me to do.

`               “Do a shot with me?” No, no, no, no, no. Too late she’s leading me to the bar. The overcrowded bar. We make our way in between bodies of sweaty, overly excited people. Disgusting is what it is, disgusting.

                “Spencer!”

                “Huh? What?”

                “Drink up!” And before I process what I’m doing, I’m downing the shot faster than you can say ‘Boomshakalaka’.

Nearly six shots later, I can’t remove myself from the dance floor, dare I say it…actually enjoying myself. Dancing to the very great sound of…who is it? Ah Flo Rida’s- Low.

                “Spence! Spence, look.” Huh? What? Madison? Is that you, because I’m having trouble finding you in my semi drunken state…okay maybe not so much semi, more like overly drunken state. But those are just minor details really.

                “Spencer!” Oh there you are, apparently, right in front of my face. How could I not notice her you ask? It could be the fact that my eyes were closed, for what reason? I still don’t know.

                “What? What’s wrong?” I ask, being the concerned friend I’m known to be…at times.

                “Nothing…look, three o’clock…hot redhead checking you out.” What where? Three o’clock, if the room wasn’t spinning I might actually know which direction to look in. Madison senses this, as she slowly turns me in the direction of the said ‘hot redhead’.

                “What do you think?”

                “Eh…”

                “Eh? That’s it? Spencer!”

                “What? Okay, okay…She has a nice rack.” She laughs. I’m being serious; I don’t know who she was looking at but…

                “You’re so gay Spence.”

                “How could you not tell me you’re gay?” I ask, storming into Ashley’s open door. She hasn’t moved, and looks like all her ability to speak has been revoked.