Next | Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11

The truth is that with great power comes great irresponsibility.

Whatever semblance my evening had of me trying to be a good person and do the right thing is now a distant, drunken memory. Two more girls give me drinks and my limit is forgotten while my conscience becomes a remote recollection. My consciousness is fading in and out and what I remember is just dancing with and kissing random girls.

I’m wandering around, desperately looking for my friends or for Kaylee, but all I find are booties and lips. I accidentally wander behind a bar and into some kind of backroom; an offense that nearly gets me kicked out of the bar.

Lost and confused, I realize that the layout of this club is super-confusing when you’re smashed. I bump into the slutty super friends again and get scolded slightly for ditching them. However, I mumble something about not being able to find them and it’s not long before I have images of making out with them once more. I’m 90% sure that one of them cups my balls while we are kissing too.

I’m now wandering around the club with no clear destination, bumping into all kinds of people I don’t know but who know me by name. People are introducing me to their friends and their boyfriends. Girls are buying me shots, grabbing my ass, kissing me. At one point I’m dancing in a cage that’s normally reserved for girls.

The whole thing is like some kind of bizarre wet dream come true. The craziest part is it’s all feeding off itself. Every make out seems to make me more confident, more cocky, and after every make out I seem to be able to find more willing girls faster and easier. In fact, I haven’t even approached a girl all night, they’re approaching me!

I start to wonder if maybe girls are slipping me roofies.

For the first time in my life I legitimately feel like a slut.

After making out with a cute Asian girl, I ask her why my button is so powerful. When she asks me, “What button?” I give a confused look and slur, “Well if you didn’t read my button, why are you making out with me?”

She smiles and tells me that it’s because I’m famous.

“Famous?!”

She nods.

It’s at this point that I come to the realization that the button’s power is surpassing its own physical form… people no longer need to see it to know who I am. Everyone in this fucking club knows me. Everyone thinks I am funny. Everyone wants to meet me or introduce me to people they know. And everyone who doesn’t know me wants to know how everyone else does!

The more girls who hang off me, who dance with me, who flock to kiss me, the more other girls wonder who I am. The more other girls wonder who I am, the more they want to approach me, and start the whole sequence all over again. The button has created a self-perpetuating cycle of popularity. I’ve become a club god.

I tell the Asian girl that I’m a producer and pull her face back to mine.

Next | Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11

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