It wasn’t until the bachelorette partiers were on their third round of ‘Never Have I Ever’ that Violet, sitting under The Cactus Cove’s pulsating array of strobe lights, looked around and realized she couldn’t find any hot guys anywhere.

“Lemme see here,” said the bride-to-be Olivia, her eyes droopy. She’d already had a couple shots and some passion fruit rum drink from the bar and was starting to slur her words. “Never have I ever…done the mile-high club thing or whatever.”

This resulted in an eruption of giggles, and at least three of the ladies threw back shots. Violet grimaced, the smell of sweat and mango e-cigarettes throbbing in her temples as she scanned the club’s perimeter yet again. She finally felt ready for a rebound hookup, but she couldn’t find any guys anywhere, hot or otherwise. Was the club’s entire population composed of bachelorette parties? That realization alone was enough to chafe at her neck, and she scratched under her turtleneck sweater until her skin turned red.

“Your turn, Violet,” Olivia said.

olet had always loathed ‘Never Have I Ever.’ She’d never understood why the questions always had to be about threesomes, and fucking on planes, and trying acid. Why couldn’t they ever be about things that were substantive, that demonstrated you were a serious person trying to make something of your life? “Never have I ever not invested in my 401k,” she said, but it was clear by the group’s groans that they didn’t get her sense of humor.

“C’mon, that doesn’t count,” Olivia said. “You’ve barely touched your shots, girl. There’s gotta be something crazy you’ve done, right?”