Back when I was in computer programming school, we went to a new year’s eve party at one of the other student’s places. The party was attended by a lot of other students and their friends.

One of the students, nicknamed “Doug the slug” in honor of his apparent sliminess, was there despite the fact that no one wanted anything to do with him.

As the clock struck midnight, everyone moved to plant a smooch on whoever was handy. I was on the opposite side of the room from Pam. Doug, however, was right next to Pam and was getting ready to plant one on her. Pam had a look of abject terror on her face as she reviewed the list of acceptable excuses for avoiding new year’s eve smooches. In the early 80s, there were none.

Luckily, Ed, my future best man, saw what was happening, leapt toward Pam, shoved Doug out of the way, and planted a smooch on Pam instead.

Doug complained “Way to go Ed, you ruined my chances with her.”

History does not record what Ed thought of Doug’s chances.