Hello Again California. I mean this in two regards:
I am writing this while on the plane from Austin to Phoenix (and then to Santa Barbara). This post is duly locked to just the California crowds, which increasingly seem synonymous with the set of people who get to read my private expose.
The vast majority of my negative Flipside experiences were in regards to the women-folk who I am or was interested in. I went to Flipside with the expectation that I would meet a bunch of new, cool people and that I would do something more than flirt with a couple of them. For instance, some of the days I was so sore that I would have sold my first-born for a massage, which I never got. Naturally, I didn’t make out with anyone either, which likely condemns me to 3 more months of celibacy.
Needless to say, I am a bit disappointed. Part of this is probably that Flipside is this sort of event. Most people come and go as a group. And then, doing a hard sell on how awesome you are is not really tolerated. If you have something amazing to show, bring it to the table.
The situation is definitely skewed against boys, as Jason and I found out. This is doubly odd as there is a healthy excess margin of women over men at this burn event. One would think that having less available men than women (and and even proportion of homosexuals) would make boys a slightly more desired commodity. But no. The polar opposite. The female advantage that exists in the real world was accentuated here. (Which was part of why putting on the dress was a smart idea.)
But all is not lost, right?! I came with not one, but two groups! Surely someone out of the 50 odd people I knew going in must have a level of mutual attraction with me. And having this level, it could be raised a bit by the burn event.
We flirt. And not in the playful way that I flirt with people who I never want to be in bed with (like 95% of my male friends). Rather more in that subtle way that you flirt with people who you are actually interested in, but want to test the waters with soundly first. Ratha: “That girl was right when she said you had a sweet face.” Or she’ll smile coyly when I refer to the problems with my sex life being similar to that of a male Praying Mantis.
There were other people from other camps as well, but none panned out either. Specifically, there were a couple of girls from Ish who I danced with on different nights, separately, at different places. The come-and-go-with-your-camp phenomenon was what killed anything from happening in spite of the beginnings of a connection.