Epickest Fail

by Brendan Cavanagh

Last Tuesday, the Faculty-in-Residence (FIR) of Ross Hall, the dormitory in which I reside at Butler University, sprang for a small group of freshmen to go on an excursion to the local movie theater, where we would see The Social Network- yes, for free. Not only did I immediately jump on board for this activity because I'm a freshman, and when I hear the word "FREE" I sign up without hesitation, but also I had wanted to see The Social Network quite badly for a while. Incidentally, I convinced my buddy to drive us to see it in the heart of Indianapolis on opening day a few weeks ago. On the way, he decided that he would much rather spend his money on a Lebron James jersey to wear to the Jersey Party we would be attending that weekend. Furthermore, aside from the expenses necessary for the jersey, he decided from that moment forward he was going to be more frugal in his spending and called an end to unnecessary purchases- fast food, assorted candies and snacks and- you guessed it- movie tickets. Held hostage against my will in his car, I spent the next three hours either trapped in Indianapolis' Rush Hour on the freeway or in a mall in the middle of nowhere that seemed to be a cultural hotspot for African Americans. Although it was a neat experience to literally be a racial minority for once, I was pretty well bummed that I didn't get to see The Social Network.

But I digress. Another friend and I met up with the FIR and his wife, who were waiting on a group of freshmen ladies. My eyebrows were thus raised. This movie trip could be a valuable experience in which I could get to know several girls in an intimate setting, something much different than the weekend parties. No one honestly goes out to a party hoping to make friends that happen to be girls, unless, that is, physical benefits stem from the relationship. By attending the movie I could maybe make some girl friends (not girlfriends), something I've been lacking a bit since I left Springfield for college. We waited for these girls for ages, and I was getting anxious to get to the theater in time to make the movie and most of the previews. That's one of my biggest fears- arriving at a movie too late. I honestly don't think I could watch a movie after missing one minute of it. So thankfully, these girls finally showed up, and to my initial displeasure but subsequent delight, they were not too terribly attractive. Perfect! I wouldn't have to be concerned with trying to woo them or make an effort to make myself appear a little more appealing than usual. I was simply hoping to have an entertaining jaunt complete with some intellectual discussion afterward with girls that could potentially become my pals. However the bonding would have to be postponed, as at that point, I anxiously jumped in my friend's car and stressed that we should hurry in order to make the movie on time.

I'll fast forward a bit. The movie turned out fantastic, and I was actually able to secure a seat moments before the trailers rolled! When we all congregated in the lobby of the theater afterward, the FIR announced that the secret, special treat he used as a potential incentive to come (if the free movie wasn't good enough) would be cupcakes from the famous pastry shop in Broad Ripple (the nearby campus town) called The Flying Cupcake. Well, I wasn't one to complain about free cupcakes. We therefore departed from the theater and booked it straight back to the dorm in anticipation. However, my friend and I realized that we had no idea where to meet the FIR and the ladies for cupcakes. We wandered the halls for a little while before desperately stumbling into the FIR's apartment within the halls of the dormitory (which should have been our first guess). There we found everyone gathered around a little coffee table in the middle of this quaint, softly-lit, cozy living room. The FIR's wife presented me with a glass of cold apple cider, and we sat down to join the conversation.

It was pretty mundane, to be quite honest. We didn't even discuss the movie for a while, as I thought was the intent for gathering afterward, but rather listened to the girls swap stories about dorm life or their doings back at home. I just grabbed one of the few remaining cupcakes- lemon, yuck! What was I thinking? Oh I know, there was a sugared candy on the top in the shape of a lemon, which I had hoped was just a red herring- and quietly sipped my cider. I was very careful to retain a level of detachment throughout in order to give off that cool, aloof, James Dean vibe (to no avail), as one of the girls brought her very attractive friend to join us.

Now, I don't know if it was the cider or the rush of sugar from the cavity-inducing cupcakes or what, but somehow I began to feel intoxicated with a sense of humor and took it upon myself to join the conversation. At first I simply clapped my hands together excitedly while another girl related her difficulty in sleeping at night and exclaimed, "Well how about that movie!" Thankfully the conversation touched briefly, then, upon the basic themes and characters of the movie- okay, we didn't discuss the movie all too much, but we managed to stay relatively on-topic by occasionally delving into everyone's opinions of the inner workings and perpetual redesign of Facebook.

But that wasn't enough for me. I wanted to distinguish myself, you know, make a joke or two to lighten the mood a bit more and maybe make myself someone these girls remembered in a positive light after that night (and impressing the cute girl was definitely motive enough). But every time I attempted entry into the conversation, my quips and references were either met with silence or one or two pathetic chuckles induced out of pure pity for me. For instance, eventually the conversation switched gears for the nth time, and the FIR's pregnant wife enthusiastically related to us the tribulations she and her husband had been experiencing in coming up with a satisfactory baby name, whose sex has yet to be determined. I jokingly advised them to choose a sexually ambiguous name ahead of time in order to avoid any disappointment when the sex of the baby is revealed at birth. Unfortunately no one found this amusing until one of the fine ladies present, sporting a sideways trucker cap with her ponytail sticking out of one side, appended my suggestion with a real gem: "Yeah, like JIM!" which had everyone in stitches.

What? Jim is not sexually ambiguous at all. Whatever. I let this slide. There was still plenty of time to horse around later.

As the evening wore on, each one of the girls chatted incessantly about the most banal topics, referring either to the movie or to mutually-attended occurrences (I honestly was too steamed to pay attention), preceding each sentence with the word "Remember...?" This little detail sparked my attention, leading me to believe the time was ripe for a well-timed Chris Farley impression. After allowing a couple girls to speak their piece, I leaned over to my left, where the FIR sat (because he was the only person in the room who I thought would definitely understand my reference, if no one else did, though I deluded myself into believing it would be commonly recognized. He's a 30-year-old, sort of hipster-ish, APPARENTLY cultured guy who happens to dress a lot like Tynan Shevlin) and murmured just loud enough for all to hear, "Re-remem...remember Beatlemania?" Inside I was consumed with fits of silent laughter, invisibly patting myself on the back for telling such a great joke. To my astonishment, the FIR looked at me suspiciously and replied, "Yeah...?" Alas, this was the most involved response I got. I consequently looked around the room at everyone's faces, which all stared back at me bemusedly and silently. I was clearly referencing Chris Farley's uncomfortable interview of Paul McCartney on the Saturday Night Live "Chris Farley Show" skit on what I assumed to be the universally-viewed compilation Best of Chris Farley. At that point, I really felt like Chris Farley- in my head I thought to myself, "God! Damn! Idiot! Stupid question!" I hastily explained aloud that I had made an admittedly obscure Chris Farley reference and apologized sincerely. But there was nothing sincere about my apology. I was disgusted by my repeated, fruitless attempts at getting involved and making friends with such frivolous girls.

After that I just shut my mouth and feigned laughter at their crummy jokes and uninteresting stories, reluctantly throwing in the towel and ashamedly attempting to blend in, until "That Girl" announced that she regrettably had to depart prematurely in order to "study" for a test the next morning, at which point everyone stood up and decided it was time to go. I thanked the FIR and his wife for their generosity and hospitality and returned to my room (on the way, my friend informed me that my jokes were truly bad and embarrassed him terribly), while the girls made the walk back to their dorms across the street. I was depressed. One of the first times I had a serious intent to make girl friends ended in disaster because I was stricken blind with my narcissistic love for my humor, similar to the love John Mayer has expressed for his singing voice, and made myself out to look like some sort of unfunny, cornball geek.

Although I failed in my attempts to make girl friends that night, I am at the very least satisfied that for once I made a conscious effort to interact with girls on a friendly and unromantic level. I understand that every attempt of mine will not always be met with girls I particularly desire to hang out with, but I know that they are out there somewhere. It's hard finding new girl friends after having such funny, intelligent and unique ones before I left for school. But I have not been thwarted in my attempts to keep searching for those rare girls that will inexplicably laugh at my numerous eccentric jokes. I don't know where they are...but I will find them, even if they live in a van down by the Butler canal. Desperate, you say? LAY OFF ME, I'M STARVING FOR SOME FEMALE INFLUENCE.

Picture reprinted with permission from Tynan Shevlin