- Be 30yo male in Atlanta - Cushy VP gig at the commercial real estate PE firm daddy started in the 90s. In 20 years, everything he worked for will be yours - Finally off the waitlist at Cap City. Dad’s at Peachtree, Ocean Forest, Wade Hampton, and Bakers Bay - Thursday night. Posted up with your old Lovett buddies at Ladybird. Vibes are unmatched - That 4th tequila soda tastes like finding some action. But your buddies are all wifed up. You’re on your own, soldier - Eyeing a 5’3 blonde baddie wearing a white crop top and a “Run the Damn Ball” hat from Onward Reserve - You slide her a drink, turns out she was a freshman at Georgia when you were a senior - She called you awkward, but your autistic rizz kinda works. You snag her number before she vanishes - Night spirals. You’re stumbling out of Johnny’s Hideaway at 2am. Your buddy is fiending for a bag, but you have self control. You say you’re gonna call it a night and split. - You fire off a “you up?” to the Ladybird dime. Crickets. She leaves you on read. Oh well, valiant effort. Shy boys don’t get sweets. - Uber back to your Buckhead condo. It’s only 0.7 miles away, but you’re not walking down Roswell Road at night - You’re smoking a bedtime joint on your balcony. Sirens and Hellcat engines echo through the streets. - You hear a window smash on the street below. Car alarm starts blaring. Which dumbass forgot to move his car into the parking deck? - It’s your brand new LX600. You’re the dumbass, stuck watching from 15 stories up - The ski-masked YNs yoink your clubs and Hudson Suttler duffle from Ohoopee. Forget the work laptop, there goes your precious Circle T - Fuck. You have PDC member-guest tomorrow