The truth was complicated.
Grayson had attended exactly one singles party in his entire life. He had lasted approximately eleven minutes after entering the floor where the event would happen.
The mixed pheromones had hit him like a wall of humid, rotting scent the moment he entered the corridor leading to the venue.
Grayson quickly and unhesitatingly turned on his heel and walked directly back out. He got into his hovercar, drove home, and blocked his mother's contact for three days.
He really had no experience.
None. Zero.
Not that he was ashamed of not having one. It was just that because of his extreme dominant trait, his hair-trigger pheromone sensitivity, if unregulated. He made sure to strictly regulate the pheromones in the company.
Plus, his general distaste for most of the intelligent beings had made it functionally impossible.
