Reality, worst game ever.

It was another night on the week. Another pub in London. He still tried not to go to the same one too often. He didn't want the stigma of being that guy. A year or so ago he had heard two women talking about him in one of the pubs he went to a few more times than was probably smart. "There's that gorgeous guys again, shame he's a drunk..."

It bothered him still. On multiple levels. Too much fuss over some randomly picked genes. In his family he was prettier than his three years older sister ever was. He didn't want it to be that way, he never wanted to look like this. Charlie hadn't asked to look like a male model, which was pretty much what he was described as when he had had a few good, sober days.

Secondly, he wasn't an alcoholic. He merely was having a difficult month.. or two. The specific date and time was irrelevant. After having several bitter-ending affairs, he had realized.. karma was a bitch.

His charismatic personality opened numerous doors in the social world; inviting an active relationship life, and deeming his the most well-known man in England. Well, the most popular man in the party environment. Despite his general good intentions, he was a typical male looking for a good time.

A good time meant dating various provocative young women who stroked his ego as frequently as he did. A brilliant time was being the center of attention, all the time. Lights on and off.

However, all seems to crash and burn when those several boisterous women you've dated all at once, happen to all be friends, and their friends were the general crowd that praised your existence.

So, immortality had its downfalls. Such as life, right?

Charlie couldn't help but feel severely low today. Knowing everyone wasn't as fun as he had predicted back in the day when he only knew half. His ego kindled as he watched a group of women slowly walk by his sulking frame, whispering cruel words into one-another ears'.

He suddenly felt now was a good time to leave town.