I show up at this party feeling uncharacteristically charming. I see two lady-acquaintances chatting, and they're really excited to see me.
Lady #1: "OMG! benevolentcannibal! I didn't know you were coming. Who picked you up?"
Me: "I picked myself up, like so..."
I proceed to sweep her into my arms like I'm motherfucking Fabio, while her jaw drops and a loaded glance is exchanged with Lady #2. Anyway, I don't think much of it; I place her back on the ground and float through the party and get more and more inebriated to cope with my many demons.
At some point, Lady #2 corners me and plants a kiss on my lips. This is nice enough, except a close friend of mine has a huge crush on her, so I try to find ways of deflecting her--ultimately informing a few fellow partygoers of the situation and asking them to keep their eyes open for Lady #2 prowling.
At some point, I'm standing in a doorway, lost in my thoughts, when Lady #1 and Lady #2 seize me on either side and drag me into the bathroom. At this point, my will is weak, and I'm totally ready for whatever is about to transpire, because... Fuck it. I mean, two distinct pairs of lips are all over my neck, and hands are roving around my body, and the room is completely dark, so I feel like I'm in a sensory deprivation chamber, except I still have a couple of vital senses, like I'm just floating in this abstract space of arousal and pure hype that would make middle school me (and high school me and college me, to be frank) shit bricks, and...
Motherfucking partygoers have my back and open the door and save me from myself.
I really shouldn't regret telling them to make sure I didn't do anything stupid, but the friend in question whose feelings I was protecting turned out to be a nugget of the douche variety.