Cancer drunk story

Anon
An Exhibition of Modern Courtship

He looks across the crowded room, past the fifty or sixty bobbing red cups, the several glittering party dresses, and equal amount of tight plain colored tight shirts and pastel button ups at the only thing that really matters in the room. The only thing that matters in His mind. His whole world is standing there, in Her very own glittering party dress, yet somehow, it’s clear She’s different. She sips Her own special red cup and laughs at the same joke every other plain t-shirt tells every other glittering party dress.
	The night passes slowly for Him. He stands next to the counter, trying to work up the courage to talk to Her. She doesn’t notice though. She’s too busy engaging in the same intelligent conversation, the same one the other dresses have had, with a different copy of every other pale button up. He sips His red cup and looks down at Himself, scrutinizing His own pale button up and plain t shirt under that.
	“I like your shirt man! You look good!” Says a plain t shirt, refilling it’s red cup.
	“Yeah you too!” He says back, after a short laugh.
	He wishes He could be something new. He wants to be something special for Her, the same way She  is too him. But She doesn’t have time for Him. She is sipping Her red cup and wiggling with a group of glittering party dresses. He sighs and goes over every possible thing He could ever say to get Her attention, to prove He’s not everyone else, that He isn’t a pale button up. He’s Him.  Then suddenly She’s there next to Him, getting a brand new red cup. Time stops. He instantly forgets every scenario that just played out in His mind. He tries to retrace everything He’s ever thought, but it’s all blank. Time starts coming back. It’s speeding up now. She’s about to grab Her new red cup. He know’s it’s now or never. Now or never. Now or never.
	“Wait!” The word slips from His mouth right as She lifts the cup out of the stack. Why’d He say that, oh God…
	“Excuse me?” She asks, a surprised look on Her face. He looks at the dancing glittery party dresses, and the accompanying plain t shirts and pale button ups. He has to say something. Say something to Her.
	“You shouldn’t be using that cup.” He doesn’t even know what He’s saying now. He’s just blurting out anything He thinks.
	“Why? Is there something wrong with it?” She looks almost worried, but amused at the same time. He lifts the red cup gently from Her hand.
	“No, but you don’t need this cup. Or…” He adds, pushing the other red cups away from Her as She reaches for one. “Any of these.”
	“And why not?” Now She looks a little angry
	“Everyone here has red cups” He says, handing Her a blue cup. “And you definitely are too special to be part of everyone.”
	“And what am I, since apparently I’m not everyone?” She asks, smiling now.
	“Well that’s easy,” He says, returning Her smile. “You’re someone.”
	“Philosophy major?” She asks, laughing a little, leaning a bit closer.
	“I’m just an overly philosophical Pre-Law, actually.” He laughs, filling Her Special Blue Cup.
“Well, Mr. Someone, the Philosophical Pre-Law why don’t you get a blue cup for yourself, and we enjoy our common specialness together?” She asks, lightly touching His arm. He leans in to kiss Her.
He looks up. There She is, still dancing with the other glittery party dresses. The room come back into focus, the hopeful fantasy being replaced by reality. He sighs, pours himself a drink, and looks away from Her. His eyes unintentionally land on a Plain T-Shirt sitting alone across the room. The Plain T-Shirt is staring with a look of subtle captivation at It's own personal Special Glittering Party Dress.