Jerome isn't very bright. His conversation skills are limited to inappropriate jokes that are made worse by his lack of comedic timing.
He interrupts people. Belches. Talks too loud. Has offensive body odour and his breath is heavy with the smell of rotting gums.
But even social pariahs crave companionship, and one day Jerome realized the best way to make friends is to join groups. He believed he would have a captive audience, and if he simply paid his dues, people would have to tolerate him.
It never occurred to him he could be kicked out of groups. Sure, they didn't all kick him out. Some of them just started changing the location of the next meeting and conveniently forgot to tell him, leaving poor, clueless Jerome waiting all night in burger joints, bowling alleys and even empty parking lots. Perhaps it was a blessing he never pieced it all together, standing alone under streetlamps or at a table littered with fast food wrappers and empty ketchup packets.
Must be the flu, he'd think to himself as he finished off his third helping of fries.
So Jerome just makes it a point to join as many groups as he can, from knitting circles to the local association of bonsai pruners. It's a small town, and with the odds stacked in his favour, he eventually stumbles upon one of the gatherings before the week is through, happy as a clam and without a dark thought in his heart.