As the situation heated up with the very muscular and hairy woman who had somehow managed to order a 40 in a bar, my mind decided to check out.

All I could think about was my wispy thin friend Sebastian who had bumped into an overblown man in a power suit at happy hour a few years ago, spilling an expensive mixed drink all over the man. The guy boiled over, grabbed Sebastian by the neck, and started dragging him outside.

Sebastian’s mind left him as well, and when he recounted the story to me, told me that he began babbling to the man through gasps for air, “Please, please, it was an accident. Don’t hit my face…thin gay guys with ugly smashed faces never get dates!”

Ridiculous.

But somehow they ended up making a detour to the power suit man’s giant Buick and overcoming their differences in an equally primal but more enjoyable go-round of physical exertion.