Sick of the city

Sick of the city, Sam quits his job and moves to Minnesota, as far from humanity as possible. He sees the postman once a week and gets groceries once a month. After six months of isolation, someone knocks on his door. A huge bearded man is standing on his porch.
"Name’s Lars," the man says, "from down the road. Having a party Saturday. Wanna come?"
"Definitely," says Sam. "After six months out here, I’m ready to meet some people."
"Gotta warn you," says Lars, "there’s gonna be some drinkin.’"
"No problem: I can drink with the best of them," says Sam.
"More’n likely gonna be some fightin’ too."
"Well, I like people," Sam says. "I’ll be there."
Lars starts to walk away, then turns back. "I seen some wild sex at these parties, too."
"Not a problem," says Sam. "I’ve been alone for six months! Just one question, though: What should I wear?"
Lars shrugs. "Whatever you want–just gonna be the two of us."