-Dave Portnoy is my boss. I had never met or talked to him until this weekend.

-Tommy, Frankie, and Gaz are my coworkers who also went on the trip.

-Francis is an Ivy League grad who speculated about my Vegas trip and relationship with Dave in a blog last week.

-And I’ll let the rest be opened to interpretation.

Take a look at this poetic stanza from Ginger Allan Poe. Nothing in common? Nothing in common?! Has anyone in the history of literature ever written something as atrociously wrong as this claim from Harvard Frost about my compatibility with Dave Portnoy?

Like Francis’s cancer diagnosis, the “capricious machines of awkwardness” were completely and utterly nonexistent—the “silences” between me and Dave were as pregnant as a nun with an ovarian disorder, and our camaraderie was as palpable as the sexual tension between Francis and Frankie. Dave and I ended up being equally unique and similar in the most beautiful way possible. It’s like two roads diverged into a snowy wood, and we both took the one less traveled by.

Upon arriving at the Cosmopolitan, a resort that provided me with over 12 hours of incredible hospitality and memories, I immediately rushed to my single room to change into my “Vegas Day 1 Outfit” that I excitedly pre-planned 48 hours in advance.

Moments away from finally meeting and having a conversation with my boss, I was confident that my ensemble was just fresh and hip enough to give off the perfect first impression that would appeal to the taste of a fellow millennial stud with similar style and interests.

So you can imagine the pure shock and exhilaration that filled the room when I walked into Dave’s 60th floor penthouse, only to be greeted by a young man donning nearly exactly the same outfit as me, down to the hyper-masculine Jaws (1975) tee and Express super skinny jeans.

Dave audibly moaned. Frankie gasped. Tommy squealed. Gaz gazzed. Steven Spielberg couldn’t have scripted a twist as thrilling and unpredictable as this celebrity clothing correlation. The excitement and energy at the Cosmo was magical, and the relationship between me and Dave was similar to a fairly odd parent who likes his son a little too much.

Unfortunately though, our chatter was limited because the Gonzaga vs. Florida State Sweet 16 game had just started and we both had a lot riding on the outcome. He had bet the price of my annual salary on Florida State, and I had bet the price of our matching H&M t-shirt on Florida State. The respect was mutual but the stress was also shared, especially as the Seminoles progressively blew their chances of covering the spread line.

While we both simultaneously became visibly more dejected about the basketball game, I attempted to cope by diverting my attention to Thomas and changing the subject.

Honestly, the rest of that night is a blur to me. Definitely isn’t black and white at all. I know we were both feeling pretty low about our financial losses, so I’m pretty sure we decided to drown our sorrows with some cocktails and sniff out a plan that could boost our moods.

Not entirely sure what Dave ended up doing, but I think my plan worked, because I vaguely remember feeling like at least 2.5 times the man and desperately wanting to dance with somebody. Sadly, I never found a dance partner that night, but the next morning I got the opportunity to waltz right out of my resort and foxtrot to an entirely new ballroom.

That’s right. Hungover and exhausted, I returned to my room after a long night, and quicker than Francis could close the Thesaurus.com tab when a coworker passes by his desk, I was getting escorted out of the Cosmopolitan by a team of Nevada’s strictest security guards. What was the reason, exactly? Well, it’s hard to say, but I dusted it off and kept my head up. Yeah, I was getting railed with jokes for a while, but everything seems to have blown over, and it ended up being nothing more than a small bump in the Frost-esque road that I decided to take that night. I got into line at the adjacent Aria hotel lobby, and within minutes I was rockin’ an even cleaner and nicer room. But after making some private phone calls that ironically ended up becoming about as public as possible, I was admittedly feeling pretty fucking low.

Facing the realization that I was the potent punchline of an embarrassing internet joke between my coworkers and ~thousands of others, I decided to take a short 45 minute Uber ride to the Hoover Dam to clear my head and take in a more natural scenery that wasn’t filled with so much toxicity. As one of the largest dams in the world with an elevation of over 700 feet, I was higher than ever…well, almost.

It was exactly what I needed before reuniting with my new friend Dave for another night of Sin City escapades.

I won’t waste your time with unnecessary details about the rest of our trip, but let’s just say that I only continued to discover new and interesting similarities between me and Dave. Not only do we have the same style, but I found that we also have the same taste in music, movies, food, alcohol, magicians, table games, Tommy, Frankie, sports, and other recreational activities.

The “dizziness of making weight” ended up being a little more intense than anything I experienced during my college wrestling career, but this ballad from Francis Scott Key was the closest he got to an accurate hypothesis about my trip to Vegas.

Last but not least, I’ll admit that when I first realized that I’d be going to Vegas and forced out of anonymity for the first time, I was extremely nervous and anxious. I really wanted to do something that made me seem more interesting than the introverted former wrestler who awkwardly hides behind the avatar of a 10-year-old boy. And when I checked the calendar and noticed the date of my first day back to work after the trip, I knew I had to orchestrate some type of elaborate scheme that could make for a noteworthy topic for today’s blog.

I hope everyone had fun making their jokes this weekend, and as someone who has never been shy about ruthlessly making fun of others on the internet, I expect you all to keep those jokes coming.

Sorry, Bud Light.