By Hunter Perez
Jock is my best friend and I love him dearly, but there is one thing about him that I dread and that involves his penchant for party giving. It’s not that he’s a bad host – far from it. In fact, his parties are extraordinarily generous regarding the delicious foods being served (most of which he creates in his kitchen) or the selection of beverages made available (some of the most expensive wines and spirits I’ve ever enjoyed).
My problem is that Jock never seems to realize that I don’t fit in with his social set. The guests at Jock’s parties can be divided into three categories. First, there are the money boys – the trust fund babies, the day traders, the hedge fund jockeys and investment bankers who gather and compare their portfolios and share insider tips on the next hot stock. Second, there are the gym bros – they wear the tight t-shirts that show off their musculature while they babble about supplements, steroids and iron pumping. Third, there are the bears – the leather clad beefy guys who congregate on the back porch to smoke their cigars and talk about whatever it is that bears talk about. I’ve never been able to eavesdrop on them, hence my ignorance regarding their conversations.
