Don't drink and text your ex.
AnasAbdin

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@yourenotsorrybro
Don't drink and text your ex.
Chewbacca and the Marsh Mellow Man
I got tolled... I think. I don't really know what happened. All I know is I am meeting some dude who practically face-booked stalked me, and begged me to hang out with him at a bar. He was shorter than I prefer, and he smoked more than I liked, but besides that he was pretty cute. We sat and talked, and from the beginning there was some type of drawing connection that was almost undeniable. We understood each other, or at least it seemed that way. I drove him home after the bar closed, and he asked me to come inside and watch the season finale of the office with him. His room was clean and very neat, it smelled amazing. Like freshly washed clothes. The weird part is he had shelves, and shelves of toys. The first thing I thought was 40 year old virgin?", but whatever who am I to judge? Some of them were pretty dope too, like chewbacca, and stretch armstrong, Ghost Buster's Marsh Mellow Man, a glow in the dark poop... etc.
We ended up kissing in his bed in the dark, and the level of closeness was comforting, and awkward all at the same time. I do know that our bodies ended up enter-twined in the type of embrace that you can't really tell who's limb is who's. I do know that I tried to fight this, because this level of intimacy is something that I avoid as to not to get hurt, and I do know that every wall I put up he more than willingly kicked down, and called me out on my bullshit every time I tried to pull away or make a joke. The whole time he said things like "This is crazy, I've never felt this close to anyone before." We carried on like this for awhile. Text messages all day situations, and love bites.
Somewhere, and I am not quite sure where our situation deteriorated. I always had to go and see him, he would never come and see me. He never had any money, but he always had more than enough weed than the average human being needed. He was set on becoming famous off of his music, and he has only completed one semester of college all at the ripe old age of 28. However, I was willing to overlook all of this, for the sake of our "Deep Connection."
Part of me was terrified I was going to end up like my mother. Who is so in love with my father, and no one understands why. I was imagining my future with him in a run down car, smoking new ports, broke as a joke... around the age of 40. Usually, when my brain went down that path I would push it to the side, because when we would go to sleep, and I would lose myself in that entanglement it was all worth it.
This my friends is what fucked me. Because only a month later we stopped seeing each other. No conversation really had about it. No explanation what so ever. I keep going on pretending like I am OK with it, but I am not. Part of me worries that it was all an act. He slept with me, he got what he wanted from me, and he moved on to the next to pull the same stunt with another unsuspecting girl, but I honestly refuse to believe it. Maybe he was just too dumb to understand having a guard up and boundaries etc. Or maybe he's the smartest troll alive, and knows what makes girls tick...Occasionally while I am sleeping I'll actually think I am in bed with him again completely entangled in this embrace, and I'll wake up alone, and I start sobbing. Not because I miss him, Not because I want to be with him, Not really having anything to do with him at all, but because I am so afraid I will never feel that level of intimacy again. This type of intimacy is something I realize I have been searching for in every relationshit, every sexual interaction, my whole entire life. I had it for a few weeks, and now it is gone. I am more so angry that I've received conformation that it's actually out there, and now I can't have it. I am realizing now I don't even like sex that much. I just want to be entangled. I want someone's hands in my hair, and on my neck while my face is in the spot between their neck and their shoulder. and our legs are all criss crossed and I can get caught up in the sheer ecstasy of feeling like I am finally home.
Soooooo
Sometimes you download Tinder. Because you're like, "Am I going to die alone?" Or you need something to do while you're on the toilet. Or you just want to be a trolly bitch.
No. It's probably the dying alone one.
But like, Are dragon costumes sexy tho?
Twas the season of Halloween. I had been making my dragon costume for about a week, and I was pretty excited for it to make a debut at this party I was going to with this dude I had been seeing for about a few months. I knew it was an epic costume that was going to get great reactions, and it fit me like a glove. I looked pretty hot in it by my standards.
I don't really remember much, but I do recall this. Flash forward. It's about four days before this party, and he keeps texting me, but every time it comes down to actually hanging out he just doesn't answer me. The next day comes and he texts me again, and then it's like oh what are you doing we should hang out...psyche no reply. :-/ So after about three days of this I just cut this cord. Ain't nobody got time for that. I run myself a bath to prepare for the inevitable, send a text, and soak in some lavender scented water.
I get a response about an hour later saying "Yeah, I am pretty sure it's over." I say "K. Well I am still coming to your friends party." Before you think I am a crazy psycho bitch, I am not. We had a lot of mutual friends, and I wasn't about to let this situation ruin my good time after I had MADE the best costume ever. So fuck him.
I guess I'll give you just a taste of this dude's personality. Possibly capture it through a haiku.
Smokes weed everyday
Snuggles with cats
Wears obey
Eats mad Ciabattas
So I don't really mean to sound terribly salty about this situation. Disclaimer this dude is like my best friend now. He's one of my favorite people and I want him at my wedding, not to marry me, but to just be there drunk acting all kinds of cray, but needless to say ... Never again.
So I show up at this party looking utterly flawless. I just got the can by a dude I liked who I knew would be there of course I piled on the make up and even curled my hair. I walked in with a group of people that I brought, that wasn't close with anyone in attendance. They were all briefed on the situation. So I see him across the room. We make eye contact, and he doesn't come over and say hi because he's with his ex.
LOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOL WHAT?
There's so much more to this story, but I think I am going to break this up into a three part saga. All that matters is that I've met his ex before, and she asked me mad sketchy questions with out ever revealing to me that she was his ex. Bitches be all kinds of crazy.
Anyways, probably after about an hour we decide to leave, and god presents me with this situation. Almost like a present gift wrapped in front of me. Why? So I can fuck with him, and his ex/current girlfriend that's why.
This part I remember very vividly. I walk up to his vintage car that he loved so much. it was a White Datsun with red interior. They were both sitting inside with the interior light on blocking the driveway, and it looked as if she was yelling at him. I knock on the window. He looks up at me from the driver seat, and all the blood drains from his face. He starts shaking his head ever so slightly no, and it's almost as if I can read his mind, his eyes are basically screaming "Please don't do this." I smirk. Since he's not making any attempt to roll down the window, I keep knocking. He's staring at me pleading with puppy dog eyes to just walk away. She's yelling. I am cackling. This goes on for about thirty seconds with all my friends behind me watching in horror. Finally, I say under my breathe "Don't be such a little bitch about it." More so towards myself than to him, but a little towards him as well. I grab the car door handle, and just open it. At this point he's confused and terrified. I smile, and say ...
"Hey, do you guys want my parking spot?"
(Oh trust me I enjoyed this way too much.)
"Nah I think we're good. We're just gonna stay here."
"Are you sure? It's just right there."
"No, we're fine."
I say okay and walk away from his car totally and completely satisfied with myself. My friends got in my car, and all praised me for how hilarious that was. They literally thought I was trying to start some shit, and I know I did between him, and his ex/current girlfriend, but in all honesty what could he ever say to me about it? I was just being nice. :-D
So I really wish that this was the end of the dragon costume, and me getting dissed while wearing it by this dude, but it's not. Total disclaimer this was not done on purpose, but after it happened I literally laid in bed cackling for days about this terrible pattern.
So guess what guys? It's halloween again except it's 2012. I am at a rave with my friends including this ciabatta eating dude. He's dressed as a Mexican, and I am wearing my dragon costume because honestly I didn't have anything else in my closet to wear for halloween that wasn't super slutty, and I didn't want to go to a rave dressed like a whore. That just sounds like a bad idea.
At the time ciabatta bro was texting me emoticons in the middle of the night, and sometimes once in a blue moon he still does.
See example here:
I was seriously considering revisiting this situation, we had been doing some intense face to face flirting. So I decided that night would be the night. However, he decided that night would be the night he would take loads of drugs, and pretty much not talk to anyone. He ended up sitting in the corner texting his ex "What happened to us?" Texts. RIP. :-/ While his group of friends tried to grope me, and my friend. I am just gonna chalk it up to the drugs tho.... Please have let it just have been the drugs bc otherwise (awkward.)
I think 2 chainz said it best this time around
R.I.P. We just killed the club
Drank patron out the bottle, almost killed a thug
I am so high I can't feel the drugs
Too many haters sitting here
I don't feel the love
R.I.P.
These are my confessions
How to successfuly quote Usher when things are about to get very sour.
Exhibit A:
Exhibit B:
How to get MTV Friend Zoned shortly after.
Exhibit C:
You're welcome.
It was the best of times, It was the worst of rim jobs...?
I don't really know what to say about this "relationship." Looking back at it, yeah. No. It totally wasn't a relationship. I don't even know what to say about myself, and where my mind set was at. Someone gave me a good old fashion reality check at the end of this one. I guess this really just goes back to some good old style girl thinking. You know like dumb girl thoughts for example: cake, shopping, sprinkles, kittens, Does my butt look fat? etc. However, this doesn't go with any of those thoughts. If you're a girl, and you've looked at a guy before you've probably had the thought pop into your head where you just think "I can fix him." No. That's the problem right there. You can not fix him. The chances are he doesn't want to be fixed, and he's not standing around waiting for you to drop out of the clouds, and teach him how to properly wear denim. He likes his ill fitting denim. Don't save him. He don't wanna be saved. With this all being said I myself took on a project. I met a sex addict, and I thought I could save him.
I went with an old friend of mine to a bar to meet another old friend of ours that we used to troll shore towns with. This friend had another friend with him who was drunk, and I was forced to sit next to him. His head was down on the table in his arms most of the night. When his neck finally began to regain the strength to hold his own head up, I realized something. He was handsome. I am talking Clive Owen handsome, and all it took was for him to drunkenly smile, and tell me that he thought I was attractive, and I thought "YO, I can fix you!" This is where the trouble I love began. I want to say that it was all him, but it wasn't. I left that bar with the friend I came there with, and decided on my usual routine later on. Friend him on Facebook and send him a message OBVI.
So that happened. We made plans to hang out. He made me watch The Toxic Avenger which is the only good thing to come of meeting this bro. I do remember that we ended up in my living room heavily making out with the television on. He was a great kisser. Something I need to learn about good kissers. They're into weird shit. See crossing swords 2013. (Both dudes have been the best kissers of my life, and I hate to admit it.) So there we are making out and we take it to my bedroom, and we make out more. It was a pretty normal evening as far as first dates or whatever that was goes.
This was pretty much our deal for a couple of weeks. I really liked him. What can I say? We hung out, we ate pizza, we'd walk to Wawa. I would drive him places in my car, and he actually liked the pop music I was playing. Something I need to learn about dudes who like pop music. They're into weird shit. See Crossing Swords 2013. :-/ :-/ He made me laugh, a lot. He was a funny bro. He drove an old Volvo, and told me that his father invented graph paper, but never patented it so he made no money off of it. I know I cooked him pasta once with homemade sauce when he came over drunk, and he praised me for it. I remember literally thinking this could be it. I'll cook for this dude all day. So I continued thinking this way until we actually had sex.
>>>Flash forward>>> The two of us our in my bedroom the next time he comes over. I don't know how we got there or what we did before hand, but all that matters is that we're laying in my bed talking. He tells me that his "thing" is going down on girls.
"Some of my friends are all Ew how can you do that? and I am just like if you stick your penis in it why wouldn't you want to kiss it?"
Incase you couldn't tell this is this bro's way of asking me if he could go down on me. Of course I let him. OBVI. It wasn't too good though. He was more into it than I was. I literally laid there staring at the ceiling listening to this guy just get off at the sheer pleasure of just being down there. He was down there a long time too. When he comes up for air I try to reciprocate.
"Nah, I am good those don't really work on me. Only one girl ever was able to get me off that way, and honestly it's not even worth trying. Do you want to have sex?"
I nodded my head yes, and we had sex. It was decent. Afterwards, we laid in bed. For some reason he said something, and I really wish I could recall what exactly it was, but whatever it was it made me ask him this question.
"How many people have you had sex with?"
"Aw man, I really wish you didn't ask me that question."
"I am sorry?"
"No, I am not mad at you for asking, I am mad at myself because I honestly don't have an answer."
This was the third dude I've slept with btw.
"Don't worry though, I get tested monthly."
So I laid there half with my eyes popping out of my head in fear, and half trying to calm myself and tell myself that this was normal. (it's not.)
Most girls would run for the hills. Nope. Not me. I can fix you.
After this news, He went on to talk a little bit about a girl he used to date who lived in Boston, and how he used to take the Megabus to see her. I wondered if he was faithful to her. He also talked a little bit about his ex girlfriend who is now married, and how weird he thought it was. He confided in me that he still talked to her on facebook chat weekly.
He came over about a week later and we had sex again because I was dumb, and naive. For some reason I thought that maybe I could be enough for this sex crazed dude. This time after he made me sit on his face for a half hour until I was bored to tears, and after we had sex I laid in his arms and he told me about his porn addiction.
"I can't go a whole work day with out masturbating. I usually have to leave my desk and go jerk off in the bathroom. I watch a lot of porn too. My favorite kind of porn is the mature couple who sleeps with the younger female."
"Like... a threesome?"
"Yeah."
"Have you ever had a threesome?"
"Yeah. It's not that great."
"Why not? Isn't it like every guy's fantasy? Two girls?"
"Because it's not like what they show in movies. It's the most average to ugly girls who are willing to have a threesome with you because they're so desperate. They're not girls like you."
Does that mean I am different? Yah, I am different?
So Basically this went on for three weeks. He'd come over we would bone, and than he would tell me things that would make me regret boning him, and then he would follow these terrible things he would confide to me about with a semi sweet compliment that would make me think that there was hope.
One night before we had sex he asked me if he could lick my butt-hole. I don't know how I feel about that. I didn't really even let myself process the idea.
I started to consider BLOCKED. IF YOU LET THIS DUDE LICK YOUR B-HOLE>>>YOU HAVE TO LICK HIS.
This was the overriding thought. THE ONLY THOUGHT that mattered. Dude. I am not down for poop mouth. Sorry bro. I am not sorry.
"No I don't think I am into that."
"well then will you lick mine?"
"NO."
I remember standing in my bedroom after sleeping with this bro and him looking at me telling me I have the best body out of any of the girls he's ever gotten with, and then going on to tell me that he loves sleeping with me because I am so submissive, and that he wants to corrupt me, and make me like him.
This my friends should have sent me running for the hills. Why it didn't? I don't know. Because all I heard was that I have the best body out of any of the girls he slept with. I wasn't paying attention to his evil plotting. AIN'T NOBDOY GOT TIME FOR THAT. He thought I was hot. I can fix you.
I honestly just wanted him to love me. He was so handsome, and so much fun prior to all this weird sex stuff, that I was trying to overlook his problems. I just wanted to be his Karen to his Hank Moody. (Californication reference)
He asks me to hang out a couple days later after the horrible bedroom stunts he just pulled. Let's recap shall we:
-Asking for a rim job (no shame)
-Saying he wants to corrupt me (no shame)
I decide that it's best if we hang out in a friendly setting. A couple of my friends had heard from me of course that I was seeing someone, and they wanted to meet him. So I arranged for him to meet my one closest friend from college. He was so much fun prior to all this stuff when we were just casually hanging out before we slept together that there was no reason why we couldn't go back to that. (wrong)
Upon meeting my friend he decided that it was appropriate to ask us if we would want to have a threesome with him. We both declined. Because WOW you're supposed to be dating me, and you're meeting my best friend for the first time. THAT'S APPROPRIATE. He paid for dinner, and we left.
I honestly can't remember if he came home with me that night or not. I really wish I knew. I do know however that the next day I got a ear full of shit from my friend, and a reality check.
"He's disgusting. I can't believe you're seeing him. Why would you be okay with him asking that question? You need to end whatever this is."
I was thoroughly embarrassed by my sex addicts behaviors, and she was right after all. I can't even take him out in public. Finally, I admitted it to myself. I can't fix you.
I ended it with him later on that evening through facebook chat. I basically told him that this wasn't working out. I didn't really see where this was going, and I felt like he didn't really have any kind of respect for me as a person, or re-guards to my feelings or needs. His response went somewhere along the lines of
OK. I am sorry you feel that way. Can I have your friend ______'s number then?
I remember being kind of taken aback. Like really you're going to ask for my best friends number when I am trying to end things, Are we 12?
Instead I took a different route. I just responded Why would I give you her number?
He responded something like Well I was assuming by the way you were talking that you were pretty much over the situation.
I responded Yeah, I am. I just don't understand why I would pass my best friend's number to you when I basically just told you that I felt like you treated me like crap during the whole entire time we were seeing each other? So, Why would I let you do the same thing to her?
His response was "Well, I guess I never really thought of it like that."
Because that's the problem. The whole entire time he wasn't thinking of anything, but himself. There was no saving him, I wasn't his savior. He's perfectly happy being a sex addict, and he probably always will be. The girlfriends he had prior to me were just flukes. He probably cheated on them the whole entire time.
For about two years after our close encounters of the rim job kind he would text me once every three months. It would always go the same route. Something like this?
"Hey"
"Who's this?"
"________ Are you single?"
"No." (Even if I was.)
No response after that. I found my get away free card by just always lying to him by telling him I was in a relationship. I was hoping at this point I would never have to see him again. WRONG
That fall I run into him at a halloween house party I went to with a group of my guy friends. These dudes and I became extremely close in a short period of time, and they felt like brothers. So we walked up the steps to this house party full of people in costume. The porch was packed, and it seemed like it was going to be a good time. I am on the porch for no less than 30 seconds when someone in a all white trash bag comes up and gives me a huge hug SO excited to see me. It was none other than my sex addict. I don't even know what was said. I am sure some usual bullshitting. My memory does snap into play when he said,
"Guess what my costume is?"
"IDK what?"
"WHITE TRASH!"
He's so clever. I know I told him I had to go, and it was hard to hide how unhappy I was to exactly see him. So I walked into the party, and asked my guy friends if we could go. They weren't having it, and made me stay. I finally put my foot down by the fifth time I caught him staring at me. (His stares are terrible by the way. It's like you can read his mind, and he's thinking "Hey, I've fucked her before. That's an easy target.") I told them all I was leaving, and if they wanted a ride home they had to come with me now. They were pissed because apparently they ordered 20 pizzas to the house, and they wanted to watch the magic happen. One of them stayed. It was a let down. Some dude just paid for the pizzas.
That summer, when the text messages from my sex addict bro finally stopped, and I forgot he existed, I decided to go to an outdoor dance party, with lets just call her my sister. Because honestly, she mind as well be. So there we are enjoying ourselves dancing, drinking, seeing old friends. When she decides to grab me and tell me something that seems to be important.
"Hey, I don't want to freak you out or anything, but there's a guy behind you that's been creepily staring at you for the past 10 minutes, and I just want you to be aware of him, and be careful."
So I turn around and sure enough there he is. Looking drunk, terrible, and he's staring at me like a hungry pedophile. I turn around and look at her and say,
"Oh that's just _______. Don't worry about him."
She immediately started bursting out laughing. OBVI she had heard all of the terrible stories, antics, sexcapades, and problems he has. She literally was almost crying at this point that she could finally put a face to the name.
I ignore him, and we go back to dancing. Eventually he makes his way over to me and tries to go for a hug. I mean, I am going to be honest here. This was pure impulse. I wasn't trying to be a bitch, I wasn't trying to be spiteful. This is just how I felt when I thought about him, and honestly he caught me off guard. (I didn't actually think he'd come over after I looked him in the eye, and then queue my friend and I laughing.) I put my hand up in his face. FACE PALMED HIM, and just let out a simple, "EW." He walked away pissed, and I never received another text from him again.
I did try to break up with someone in a bar this year over drinks, and of course my sex addict is there staring at me from across the bar. I felt so uncomfortable that I couldn't do it. All I needed was for him to witness a break up between me, and this dude for him to start contacting me again. The break up didn't happen until we left the bar. I am worried he's going to start being a reoccurring figure in my life during terrible situations I have to endure.
Even I don't deserve that awkwardness...
Happy Birthday, luv vi0lent J***
2008-2012 was a dark time in a lot of boys’ lives. RIP. I think when most boys initially meet me, they are like, “This is cool!” but then weeks or months go by and they are like, “I need to reevaluate my life :/” or “I need to get back together with my ex girlfriend :/” Mostly because I do ridiculous shit sometimes. But not always intentionally. I think it’s just within my nature to break their iPhone, ruin their birthday, and then stain their bed sheets with face paint. Yupp.
I have a pretty large circle of guy friends and we have all been friends for a very long time. We still rent a shore house every summer. We still throw house parties. We still play beer pong. We still throw up when we drink. And none of us want to sleep with each other. It’s awesome. We are a tight knit circle within a larger circle of friends that has all basically grown up together. A larger circle of friends that has all basically grown out of each other. So once in a while there will be a gathering or event and all of us will be in the same room and it’s really not that weird even though all of us have had our tongues in each other’s mouths or have dated at some point in time. It happens. Well-poisoning. (See taking one for the WHAT post) So sometimes at these gatherings or events, I play catch up with some friends that I haven’t seen in a while or I’ll remember how much this one guy friend I have is pretty cute, hilarious, and normal. And he isn’t within my immediate circle of guy friends so I was totally content with shoving my tongue down his throat after having a conversation about the Andrew Jackson administration while I still had a septum ring in 2008 at a house party. RIP septum ring. And since then, I would see him around and there would really be no awkwardness. We got along and we flirted sometimes but that’s really how far it went up until last summer.
Last summer, there was a party. Maybe it was someone’s birthday. Maybe someone had graduated from grad school. Maybe someone got engaged. Maybe someone just wanted to have a party. I’m not totally sure, but I was there and I had brought my friend who hasn’t met my local dude crew before. We came through and immediately my boys were like, “THIS IS AWESOME AND WE HAVE FROZEN MARGS.” Awesome! The party was outside and most of the people in attendance were already wasted by the time my friend and I got there so we sat on the patio, talked shit, and I made weird eye contact with some people who I wasn’t really good friends with anymore. You know, the usual. But the party host was actually the guy friend who I mouth raped with my tongue ring at that house party in 2008. RIP tongue ring. I was getting a little marg drunk at this party. Probably started making some inappropriate comments. You know, the usual. And everyone was standing and casually drinking by the pool because you know, it’s summer time. I began flirting with the party host and by flirting I mean being mildly sarcastic and making ridiculous faces because I am five years old. And while we were having this banter, he was standing on the diving board pacing back and forth. So obviously I push him in the pool. Obvi. Bitch, you were asking for it. And everyone laughed for about thirty seconds. And while he was still in the pool, he had realized that his phone was in his pocket. And then I officially became the house party asshole. iPhones ruin everything. How the hell are you supposed to have fun anymore? Being old sucks man. Anyway, I felt so bad. I’m really not that much of a jerk and I was definitely trying to get in his pants so I needed to salvage that situation and quick. My friend and I raided his kitchen, as we were googling how to save a water damaged phone. Mind you, both of us are kind of drunk. Two drunk chicks trying to find rice in an unfamiliar kitchen is a lot like two drunk chicks trying to find their dignity in an unfamiliar kitchen. I was like, “Dude, where is your rice? I’m going to save you.” As if I had somehow made myself the heroine in this situation even though I’m the dickhead that broke his iPhone. There was no rice. But we found a small container of barley and that was just going to have to do until we got to Wawa to buy kitty litter because the internet said kitty litter fixes water damage and the internet knows shit. My friend and I drive to the closest Wawa. We also take his iPhone that is submerged in barley with us because I really have no idea why. But I go in, wait in line and buy a huge container of kitty litter. All while probably thinking, “wat**~*” and then switched out the barley with the kitty litter. We get back to his house and at this point, the party had basically died. Mostly everyone had left and there were only about four people inside. He had actually forgotten that we had left to go to Wawa. He had actually forgotten that his iPhone was still broken. He had actually forgotten that I had his iPhone. So basically I’m like, “SUP, I SAVED THE DAY” and I handed him a container that had a combination of kitty litter, barley and his iPhone. And then I’m like, “YOU CAN HAVE THIS TOO” and I handed him a huge container of kitty litter. No, he does not have a cat. RIP me trying to get in his pants.
However, I did feel really bad about successfully breaking his iPhone. It totally was not my intent so I offered to take him out to dinner, which I did. And I told him he could pick the place, which he did. Surprisingly, dinner went very well. We went back to his place, watched Memento, talked about politics, and then made out. If you haven’t noticed, a man that knows his shit about dead presidents and government gets me torqued. So after this night, we continued to talk and made plans to see each other again because surprisingly, things went very well. It kind of made no sense.
So about the next time we hung out…
We decided to just hang out at his place. I had a work event earlier that evening and he was at a high school football game. He was still in high school. No, I’m kidding. He is a teacher. So we voted on not going to a bar and just watching a movie and drinking some wine. We go through numerous movie choices on Netflix. Stop in the Cult Comedy section. Make a U-Turn in B-Horror. Jump back to Cult Comedy. And then somehow landed on Melancholia, which is one of my favorite movies because it makes me think about death and stuff. But I had already seen it so I asked if he had seen Lars Von Trier’s other most recent film, Antichrist. Okay, listen. Before you throw judgment at me, please know that I had never seen this movie prior to suggesting it. I didn’t even really know too much about it other than the fact that some of my friends and co-workers said it was a good movie. So we put on Antichrist. Oh, wait. So you haven’t seen Antichrist? Here you go.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0veaYKphLCU&bpctr=1363668389
(Just to let you know, I tried finding the clip where Charlotte Gainsbourg cuts off her clit, smashes Willem Dafoe's dick with a brick, jerks him off while he is passed out, and then he cums blood. The clip isn't on the internet. You're welcome.)
Thirty minutes into the movie, I find out that it’s this dudes birthday. His birthday. I made him watch Antichrist on his birthday. I am the Antichrist. RIP me trying to get in his pants. Again.
After that little stint, I thought for sure that I had really dropped the ball this time. I felt really bad, again, about ruining something of his. This time it was a treasured and sacred holiday. So because I thought that I had really fucked up, I kind of just let the situation burn out. I wasn’t really sure how to come back from that until a month or two later, which happened to be Halloween because he was having a party.
Before I go any further, Halloween 2012 was the best weekend of my life. I went out with my friends to awesome places. I was a juggalo. I wore face paint. I dressed trashy and not like the, “I’m a hot girl and it’s Halloween” trashy. It was like the, “I spilled vodka and Gatorade on my wife beater” trashy. And while looking like this, I had never, I repeat, never, have had so much game in my life. I wasn’t even trying to hook up because I know that no one, I repeat, no one wants to make out with anyone wearing face paint. I made out with mad dudes that weekend. Don’t hate the player, hate the game :/ :/ :/
So I rolled up to this party with my friend and we immediately started hitting the sauce and tried requesting Underoath on the stereo. Obvi. And once again I am flirting with the host of the party. Except this time I was more so apologizing for making him see Willem Dafoe’s peepee on his birthday. Ugh. He was surprisingly very forgiving. In fact, he said that I had made his birthday very memorable… :/ So I asked him if he had ever watched Faces of Death … :/ you know me. Digging Graves 101. Oh wait. So you haven’t seen Faces of Death? Here you go.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2padofYIJ1g
We dipped out of the party for a bit and hung out in his room. I somehow, I repeat, somehow convinced him that watching Faces of Death would be super dope. So I found it on the good old Youtube, pressed play, and shoved my tongue down his throat. So we are rolling around and making out on his bed. Faces of Death is playing in the background. Mind you that during this film, the title is repeated numerous times throughout. Imagine hearing, “Faces of Death”, while you are trying to get in someone’s pants. It’s hilarious and awesome. And while we are rolling around and making out, I am getting black and white face paint shit all over his white comforter and white sheets and white pillow cases and his costume which is also white. And his face. It was all over his fucking face. And at a certain point, I just stopped making out with him because I’m like, “YO IT’S 3 AM. LOL” and I walked out of his room with face paint smeared all over my face, neck, and shoulders. I then started playing a ukulele and sang a song about juggalo life and smearing face paint on other people. He then resurfaced to the party as well, after he had attempted to wash off my shameful markings, but he had failed in doing so because this face paint was like AIDS. Easy to spread, impossible to get rid of. And yes, of course everyone saw it and yes, of course I had defiled this boy once again. There is even a before and after picture of us and the other boy I made out with that weekend. RIP.
But you take the bad with good. For like a solid week, I used the pick up line, “I’ve seen Willem Dafoe’s dick. Have you?” followed with an eyebrow raise and drink in hand.
Cheers
Most awkward moment you walked in on?
- Honestly, I wish I walked in on more awkward moments. Usually its people walking in on me awkwardly doing something. Like tongue kissing someone or taking a poop.
You're welcome.
Chubby Hubby Hardcore
A short story
I dated this guy. He was a little bit shorter than me. A little scrawnier than I would like, but he was pretty cool. I guess all around. I was in a low place. He was like the current popular dude because he was the lead singer of some local hardcore band, and for some reason I went through a brief phase (5 years) of getting all kinds of Randy Savage over hardcore music, shows, bros, edge life, and vegetarianism. Don't we all though? I guess I was washed up at 18.
I don't even remember how we started hanging out, dating, or how the whole thing went down. What does stand out in my mind is how it ended. R.I.P.
I remember this dude would always come over with Ben and Jerry's ice cream. I loved it. What bitch doesn't like ice cream? So on this particular evening he comes over. Hands me my pint of ice cream I had been anticipating, and we're sitting on the couch probably watching some shit like "The Hills" on television. He was wearing a Gorilla Biscuits hoodie, and gym shorts with new balance sneakers. Standard hardcore bro uniform. I am shoveling this ice cream in my face while he's sitting there watching TV. I am probably a quarter of the way through this pint of ice cream when he finally looks over at me and says...
"My plan is to just get you fat so you can never leave me."
I dropped my spoon immediately. Looked over at him, and I am sure I asked him to repeat himself and he did. He even ended it with a "I just don't want to lose you." I think he was trying to be sweet, but this immediately made me think of Hansel, Gretle, and the witch who tries to fatten them up so she can eat them. I know he slept over that night, and I am pretty sure we even slept together, but I know I broke up with him just a few days later for this reason. I also know that he is now currently happy in a relationship with a girl who he successfully has gotten PRETTY HUGE. She did not start out that way in the beginning of their relationship.
None of our mutual friend's believed that this was the truth, until they actually witnessed him in action. They all went out to dinner one night, with his new boo, and he just kept saying through out the meal
"Here babe, have mine. Here babe eat more."
</3
I still go off on Ben and Jerry's though.
Reap what you (whatever who cares).
I’m an avid terrorizer of boys. I spend an uncanny amount of time cackling alone in my bed because I do terrible shit and in most situations, I never actually have repercussions. Ok, so listen. This isn’t one of those stories where it’s about me scum-bagging some guy or about me getting, “What happened to us?” texts. I have plenty of those stories, but this is not one of them. Instead, I got the shit terrorized out of me. Sorry.
I’ll start off with this. I try to explain to people what my take is on relationships and marriage. I have noticed more recently that people love asking questions such as:
“Do you want kids?”/ “When do you want to get married?” / “Do you want me to close out your tab or do you want a fourth Ketel and Club?”
(Bitch, yeah I’ll have another Ketel and Club.)
But dude. Those are dumb questions. As if those first two questions can be answered with any kind of certainty and as if it’s only your decision to be made. Anyway, I’ll say something like, “Well, you can’t have kids by yourself so are we talking about test tube babies? Those are pretty chill.” Or “One person til death? Nope.“ Or “We have the opportunity to fall in love numerous times throughout our life. And that's dope!” Or “Married couples either split or stay with each other out of convenience. Which is fine because I guess it’s cool to be married to a friend that you don’t want to have sex with.” It really throws people off when I say shit like this and I don’t understand why. I’m not jaded. I’m not desperate. I’m just being real dudes. It takes two and I'm a believer in mutual reciprocation. Do not mistaken this for some kind of “tough girl” front. I don’t have a Pinterest wedding album, let alone a Pinterest account. I don’t even like cake. What a monster I've become! Well, fuck. It just is what it is. I’m not totally sure if I’m interested in the whole idea. Or maybe I just haven't met someone that has proved me wrong. But that doesn’t mean that I don’t seek companionship. If it happens, then it happens and I really do not go out of my way to seek relationships. That’s the problem with me. The problem that the opposite sex has with me. Aside from the, “Why are you choking me :(?” complaint. I don’t like making sacrifices. I like hanging out with my friends. I take my work entirely too seriously. But don’t get me wrong. I do like spending time with the opposite sex and when I’m really into someone, which is basically never, I do some pretty cute shit and try to court the hell out of them. But I totally enjoy sitting on a couch, eating Chinese while watching a marathon of Seinfield or Archer. Cuddling and grabbing their butt and stuff. That’s the shit I do like. But then of course there is breaking up. And then learning from the experience. It’s a sick cycle.
I’ve been in a fair amount of relationships I guess. I’ve fallen in and out of lust and favor. And I’ve always been okay with it. It’s all part of the sick cycle. But the most recent relationship stint left me feeling otherwise. I never thought it was possible to love something so much. (Hence the word something and not someone.) I loved the idea of this someone. The idea of this someone being my everything and this being a mutual feeling.
My ex and I have been on and off for about four years. Looking back, it’s mostly been off. There were more silences than us actually being in a relationship and it’s mostly compiled of scattered conversations about us getting back together and then it never actually happening because he either:
a) changed his mind
b) changed his mind
c) changed his mind
I’m not going to give the full details of the past four years. It’s really not that interesting and it’s entirely too difficult to do it efficiently. But let me break with some comic relief. Fact: The first time he dumped me, I was in Hawaii.
A Tropical Haiku:
It was 10 am
Time zones you mother fucker
Text message break up
Deja Entendu
Tequila sadness black-out
Threw up on the beach
Ok, so back to being a dramatic twat. I’ll just explain what “changed his mind” means. This is what would happen: He would contact me after months or a year of silence. He would say something that would trap my little female brain into thinking that getting back together was a good idea. Which at the time, I did. And we would come to this grand conclusion that we needed to try this all again because it would all work out for us. It just had to because the universe had brought us back together once again. The universe just isn’t that cruel and unusual. And then we would make plans to see each other. And then I would call him when I was about to leave or I would text him to make sure he was home or I would actually be at his apartment waiting for him to let me in. And then silence. There would be nothing. No response. Yes, one time I was at his apartment and he silenced his phone. No, I am not some psycho because he told me to come over at that time earlier that day. Yes, I cried the whole way home and listened to Deja Entendu on repeat. Duh.
I am the watch you always wear but you forget to *fart noise*
This. This my friend, is the sick cycle. This “changed his mind” phenomena has been occurring for the past four years. I can’t even count how many times this has happened. Five? Nine? And I know how bad this looks on my end. Dude, I fucking know.
There was a year where him and I had no communication at all. I had cut my losses and I was okay. But then he had resurfaced and was basically like, “I broke up with my 18 year old baby girlfriend. She wasn’t you and now I want you back.” Also, “I still have serious detachment issues though.” He didn't really say that but it's all about reading between the lines. So I said nah. I told him that he doesn’t want to be with me. He just likes the idea of me. Now, if I had actually followed through with this tiny moment of redemption. This small bit of self-respect... Well there would be no shitty blog post. (Bored yet?) Better yet, there would be no additional lessons to be learned here. There would only be a lot of unanswered questions such as, “What the hell is this dude’s/your problem?” Better yet, “You choke people?” Well here we go.
Months go by and I realized that I still had his number. I’m a huge fan of “Delete, Delete, Delete.” I delete phone numbers like the way I erase episodes of Burn Notice on my parents’ DVR: very often and I never regret it. So please understand one thing first. Despite how angry or hurt he made me feel, I still worried about him. He had an overwhelming sadness that I could never cure. And that I never wanted to cure. That was also the problem. I didn’t want to fix him. I just wanted him to treat me like I was an actual person. Better yet, I just wanted him to stop treating me like an island of his rejected play things, which is really how I have spent most of my late teens and early twenties treating others. In this moment on this night, I was no longer angry or hurt. I was genuinely interested in seeing how he was doing. I also just wanted to see what would happen if I just said, “Hey.” Because I’m a masochist dawg. So I did. And then I went out with my friends.
A Halloween Haiku:
Wore face paint to Pex
Juggalo rolling on E
Made out with a priest
The Father. The son.
Face paint everywhere all over
And the Holy :/
The day after, he responded. He thought that I would never talk to him again. And that this was a sign because things in his life were actually going really well. And that how could he look me in the face and tell me he loves me after the way he’s acted? What. And this all comes out when all I wanted to do was say a sincere “How are you? How is your life?” Well actually, I’m not too sure what I wanted. That’s also the problem. And then I can’t believe that this happened. What. Had there been some type of monumental change? Maturity? Growth? I needed to find out. And why? I believe that people are capable of great change. I’ve changed a lot over the years. I’m now a somewhat functioning responsible adult with a somewhat working moral compass. Somewhat. And we agreed that we could start over new. It would be like getting to know a whole new person. That sounded fun! And I agreed that I wouldn’t harbor any resentment from our past. Eh.
And here we are now. Months later and two falling-outs later. I’m not sure if I would even call our last conversation a falling-out. I don’t know what the fuck I would call it. But within those three months, I fell hard all over again. We were older (I grew tired of the dysfunction). We had a better understanding of life (I wanted to move forward and not backward). And we seemed happy (I suffered from sleep paralysis while lying next to him. It was fucking terrifying).
But then he changed his mind. With a text. The text has been embedded into my brain. “You’re probably going to hate me. But my feelings have changed. I don’t know why I do this to you but I promise I won’t do it again. I’m sorry.”
Nah, no you’re not. But it’s cool.
I rehearsed the final fall out so many times in my head over the past four years. There is one scene where I am furious. There is another where I’m super upset, but I can still think of something overly clever to say. Because trust me, despite how much I might be ugly crying, I can still think of some daggery words that will make your butt hurt and send you into a shadow world of hating yourself for at least a week. But then there is the daunting reality where you actually don’t know what to say. So you say a total of five words. They aren’t clever. They aren’t angry. They are actually pretty boring. They are, “Please don’t contact me again.” (Right? How much do I suck?)
And after I had blocked his phone number and an array of social media accounts, (Like what the fuck? How can you successfully make someone disappear these days?) I still wondered if I should have said more after all that had happened. But I didn’t. I didn't need to.
I dwelled on the fact that I was just an illusion of safety and familiarity to him. Just a casualty. I lost about ten pounds (twenty pounds). I began crawling in my own skin. I became a shut-in because I literally thought every guy was trying to ruin my life. The idea of being anyone’s anything became far too uncomfortable. And it really wasn’t because I still loved/love him. I don’t. I wasn’t really sure how to cope with the idea of it being so easy for someone to let me down so easily. I still kind of can’t wrap my head around it but there is really no reason to keep trying to understand this. I will never understand this. This is all just part of the sick cycle.
But then time passed and I realized that I am just as guilty. That we both created an illusion of each other. I created this illusion of him being a better person to me. And me being his everything. This mutual feeling that I have created all on my own within the past four years. This idea that was strictly an idea and not a reality. I made all of that shit up. I did it. This sick cycle that is so miniscule and it operates within a much larger cycle. The cycle of putting shit in the past. Maybe in some alternate universe, him and I could have worked. Maybe we would have lived together in some studio apartment. Maybe we would just get by financially. Maybe we would have 9 to 5 jobs in this future illusion. Maybe we would have a pet iguana. Maybe we would have a family. Maybe one of us would die in a fatal accident and the other can’t bare the idea of loving anyone ever again. I don’t fucking know dude. Because that's dumb. I would never admit to anyone that I still think about him. Because that's also dumb. And mostly because now I don’t think about him and I’m just glad that I can sleep again without hearing strange voices whispering in my ear (Yeah, terrifying). I think if I told any one of my friends that I even considered looking in his general direction, they would punch me in the face and rightfully so. I would probably just punch myself in the face. I don’t think him and I really liked each other all that much or truly knew each other, but we sure loved the idea of it. And maybe we did love each other at some point. I’m honestly not too sure. And that’s not a problem. But I think we loved our illusions and ideas of each other more. I don’t think either one of us are sorry.
Womp. Womp.
I'll Make You See God
This is about a very special kind of bro. The Bro Hipster. Not to get confused with the Hipster Bro.
A Hipster Bro is one of those typical bros that’s kind of outlandish compared to his fellow bros, and may even wear nerd glasses to appear like he has an edge. Maybe one time he bought a Mumford and Sons CD at Starbucks. It doesn’t really matter though, because this blog post isn’t about that.
So, I am sitting at a Champ’s sports bar with my two friends which for some reason seemed like a good idea one evening. We get informed that there’s double pinnacle specials for five dollars. So of course we order doubles. I was feeling a little bit vulnerable because I liked this guy, and I could tell from a google maps text conversation that the situation had pretty much run its course.
One of my friends casually mentions that one of her guy friends, just got dumped by his girlfriend. Which turns out to be the dude I have always thought by my scene standards was pretty good looking.
It was probably the large drink that allowed me to act before thinking, but I immediately pulled my phone out and facebook messaged him a simple
“Sup?”
I honestly didn’t expect a response. If there was going to be a response I thought it might take a couple of days. No it was immediate. I didn’t know what to do about this so I started making fun of him. He took it pretty well, and even made me laugh through out this chat. So I finally ended up sending a message that said.
“So, this started out as a joke, but now I am interested. Are you trying to make out?”
We ended up making plans later that week to go to a buffet. YES, a buffet. At one point through out all of this I made fun of his age because he’s closer to ten years older than me. The joke was basically just that old people go to mad buffets. So he took me to a buffet. I pretty much asked for it. So we sat at this sketchy buffet in the city. Eating terrible food, and I was trying to make conversation. It was pretty hard to connect on any level with this bro. So I tried to make a couple of jokes.
“I am so sad that you didn’t wear your fedora this evening.”
“It’s in the car.”
“Does it have a feather?”
“Yes.”
Well, I kind of felt like an asshole at this point.
“Do you like living in the city?”
“No, I hate it.”
“What’s your next move? Portland? Isn’t that where all the hipsters go?”
“I actually am moving to Portland.”
Well that blew up in my face. The conversation got easier when we started counting how many times the table with morbidly obese african american women wearing wigs would get up to refill a single plate stacked full of Crab Legs. The count was up to five. We left the buffet, got in his car, and listened to 2 chainz on the way to a bar.
At the bar we had quite a few drinks. I found out some good things about his history and some bad. I don’t know how I feel about the fact that he used to be a high-school gym teacher before he gave that career up to be a hipster art student who likes to ride bikes.
Whatever, we connected on three things really. Hating this chick Terri, The Walking Dead, and Juggalo’s. He laughed really hard at something I said at one point and I noticed that he had a missing tooth. It was hard to notice. You know you’re attractive if you can pull off a missing tooth.
Right when I started feeling comfortable around him he asked me if we could call it a night. It wasn’t even midnight yet, and it was Friday. I am pretty sure at this point that he’s not into it.
So he drives me home. He’s so old that he doesn’t even know that Jimmy Brooks from Degrassi and the rap artist Drake are the same person. So I dropped that bomb on him. When he pulls up to my apartment I pretty much just say goodnight and jump right the hell out of his car because I was so sure he was just thinking “get out of my car kiddo.”
The next night I tell my friends that it was one of the worse date’s I went on, and that we didn’t connect on anything.
I go out that night not expecting to hear from him. He starts drunk texting me. My friend and I meet up with him. We take some shots. Dashboard confessionals is playing. He texts me “Your hair is everywhere.” We go outside to smoke, and his friend confides in me that he’s really into me. Which is surprising because he wasn’t acting like it last night. He leaves with us in my friend’s car. I put on an Underoath cd. We don’t even get a block away from the bar when he just says,
“Yeah, this isn’t going to happen.”
And gets out of the car and just leaves. I look at my friend and ask “Did I just get trolled?” She answers yes, and we go to a club that we were meeting our guy friend’s at. Upon entering this club I start receiving more text messages from this older bro hipster. I am pretty confused at first because like, If you wanted this thing to happen why did you leave?
At this point my guy friend that I used to get with decides it’s time to ask me why we don’t hit each other up anymore, and starts kissing me on the neck. I really wasn’t about that style. I check my phone, and open a text from what is now, apparently a very drunk man.
“I’ll make you see god.”
That’s all it said. At first I LOL’d. I showed my friend in the club. She LOL’d.
Then I drunkenly thought about it. That’s a pretty bold move. He’s way older than me. He probably knows some shit.
I somehow swindled my friend into leaving the club, picking this dude up, and dropping us off at my apartment. We walked into my room which was an absolute mess because I am lazy. Basically I started cleaning out my closet, and my closet was then neat and organized, but all of the other shit that was in there was now just in a pile in the middle of my floor. I didn’t really care though. So we start making out in the middle of watching Jackass reruns. Clothes start being removed. I pull his shirt off, and there it is staring me right in the face. I fucking Tupac style stomach tat.
“Wait, What’s that tattoo?”
“Oh, that’s just my Journey tattoo. I don’t know a man worth a grain of salt that doesn’t have a Journey tattoo.”
At this point I just laid in bed cackling. Eventually I stopped cackling, and we definitely had sex. It was pretty good, but I didn’t see god.
So the next morning is like super awkward. I wake up to start getting ready to go to work really hung over, to my mess of a room, and some thirty something naked in my bed. I am like… fuck. This is awkward, and he’s like trying to spoon with me. I texted my friend what happened. She didn’t believe me.
“Pics or it didn’t happen.”
I nonchalantly rolled over and took a pic of this bro sleeping in my bed and sent it to her.
I decided he needed to go. So we went to wawa got some breakfast, and I took his ass home before I started getting ready for work.
About six days later I get rejected by this other bro I was casually talking too. See Crossing Swords 2013. So I basically decided to hit this dude up again. I send a text that just says:
“Do you think I can see God again?”
Basically this is how I gained a fuck buddy. So I go to his house, bring him Chinese food, and we take this thing up to his bedroom. We start having sex. Which is much better than the first time because he’s not drunk. In the middle of having sex, I find myself staring at a tattoo on his shoulder. All it says is “Oops my bad.” with a line through it. Seriously?
A week later I go back to his place again. I bring some club sandwiches from a bar, we smoke some weed, and we take this thing up to his bedroom. We’re about to have sex when he takes off his shirt, and I notice a tramp stamp on his lower back that just says “Dropping Bombs.”
A week after that I go back to his house with pizza. You know what happens next. After we have sex I look down at his feet, and read a tattoo that says “If you can read this… You rocked my socks off.”
I read the tattoo aloud and he shrugged. I walked out of his house slamming the door behind me saying “I can’t believe I fuck you.”
On paper I sound pretty trashy right now. I am hooking up with a thirty something year old with a missing tooth, and a Journey stomach tat. I am not sorry bro.
IDK THE GREAT DEBATE.
K. So disclaimer, this was a very lonely time period of my life. I enjoyed drinking more than sleeping, and I just wanted boys to love me. I still do, but not as much, and I really don’t give as many shits about it.
Alright, anyway. So, I guess this was Fall, a couple of years ago. My punctuation skills are so terrible right now, whatever. But okay, it was Fall, I think, and I went to a friends apartment in the city with another one of my friends. I had no intentions of getting wasted, honestly, and so I wore a tube top.
Two things about tube tops and me:
The drunker I am, the more likely I will often forget to pull them up. One time a night ended in me losing my bra out of my tube top, and playing soccer with it, then waking up under a table the next day holding my bra like it was my infant child.
Another thing about tube tops: If I am wasted, and wearing a tube top, you will definitely see my boobs that night.
So here’s me, in a tube top, not thinking I am going to get drunk, standing in my friends kitchen, just nonchalantly drinking. Did I eat that day? I don’t remember. So oops. Now out of me and the two friends I was with, I am usually the drunken asshole. I am that friend who sleeps in your car on occasion, I am that friend who sleeps in the fake plants in Atlantic City casinos, and I am that friend that sometimes cannot control her bladder, especially when she sleeps.
Let me just tell you right now that this night essentially ended the following morning, in McDonalds. I had pee soaked clothes, 5 hash browns in my mouth, and two old ladies staring at me like I just killed all of their children, and told them they couldn’t play Bridge on Monday anymore.
Anyway, rewind back to the kitchen at my friends house in the city, I’m drinking, most likely more than I should, and getting hammered. My friends, of course, are more sober than me. I don’t remember the specifics of where we went, but my memory does kick in as to where I ended up in the later parts of the night. It was me, and let’s call him Fernando, at the sketchiest bar/strip club in the entire city. I was wasted, I don’t remember how drunk he was, and I was ordering drinks with a strippers boobs in my face. I was also told that I should come out for Amateur night by the manager, and I was so drunk that I think I agreed.
I went outside for a cigarette, Fernando followed, and this is where I began to sloppily make out with his face, and slam him into the brick walls outside. I don’t remember this, thank goodness, but the visual itself is enough to suffice for me. After I made out with him, we went back to his apartment since over the course of the night I had lost my two friends, and was just left with this guy.
I don’t remember being in his apartment at all. I woke up in the morning, confused as to where I was, how I got there, and why I felt like I had just gotten out of the shower. NOPE. I didn’t, I just pee’d myself in this dudes bed, that’s all. He wasn’t in there, I learned later that he just gave me his bed since I apparently collapsed into it like a dead person, and never moved til the morning. So he wasn’t in there, I’m thinking in my head “Fucccckkkk, I am soaked, this dudes bed is soaked, I’m also really hungry, and I don’t even care about this dudes bed, where are my friends?” So my friends are friends with Fernando, and they actually walk into his bedroom. I frantically cover my pee spot with a blanket, and try to use my hands to hide my wet shirt, but before I could even blink one of my friends asks me why my clothes are soaked… I say nothing. Or at least that’s what I remember. Then once we got to the car I told them both that I pee’d myself, and to not tell Fernando.
So they didn’t.
They didn’t tell him a thing.
I sat at that McDonalds, forcing hash brown, after hash brown into my mouth, all while those old ladies stared at me, and I DIDN’T GIVE A FUCK.
He slept in that bed for a week before deciding to wash his sheets.
When he did finally notice, that’s when shit got hilarious. He had chalked the weird smell in his bed to me just sweating a lot. Upon hearing this, I was in Atlantic City, a little tipsy, and torn between which was actually worse. A guy thinking that I sweat so much that it would make his bed stink, or just consuming so much alcohol that I pee'd myself in bed sometimes? (Yeah, this hasn’t been the only incident, but usually I am alone so I will never spill whose beds are ruined)
I drunkenly asked some strangers, and friends which was worse: A girl that sweats the bed or a girl who wets your bed? This question still is and will always be known as “The Great Debate.” Most people choose peeing. I decided that sweating was worse. It seriously is. Wouldn’t you rather just pee once or twice in massive quantities as opposed to sweating so much every day that you ENTIRELY soak a mattress? So I text him and it was a little like this…
Him: “Your friends said you pee’d but I was like nah.”
Me: “What”
Him: “You sweated in my bed.”
Me: “Nope”
Him: “Wait my friends said you pee’d but I didn’t believe them?”
Me: “Welllllll yeaaah that happened though”
I forget the rest of the conversation. I never cared, and still don’t, that this guy definitely still sleeps on his pee sprinkled mattress. He has a forever shitty nickname in my phone, that I will never change, and I think I ruined his life. He soon started dating women with satanic offspring. Whatever. At least it saved me a trip to the bathroom, and I got some awesome hash browns out of it.
TAKING ONE FOR THE what
Well, here we go.
Sorry Mom. Sorry Dad.
I'm not sure if I can recall what year this was. Or what month. Mainly because I try to block out this memory so I'm trying my best to gather fragments that are loosely mended together with Jack Daniels, a musty boy smell, and a missing cropped top. It's a classic case of "Taking One For The Team." If you're a good friend and not a complete fuck-head, you've done this before. Great! I'm so glad we are relating. One of my best friends was dating someone that goes to a local college. He lived in a house with a bunch of boys. Maybe a dog or two. A pretty standard college arrangement. The garage was filled with couches they probably found on someone's curb and there were cigarette butts and beer cans everywhere. Probably Natty Ice. Probably. The kitchen looked remodeled, but the sink was filled with plates that were probably a week old and the floor was sticky. My guess was a fine mixture of beer, hard alcohol, juice, and pee. Like I said, a pretty standard college arrangement. This wasn't the first time that I've been to this house. This bit of information is crucial. I have met the boys that lived here and their social circle quite a few times. My friend and I were even here for a New Years Eve gathering that took place maybe a few months prior. Or a couple of months? Maybe even a year? This time frame in particular is irrelevant. Just know that I was there before.
This night in particular wasn't a party. Just a group of boys, some of their girlfriends, my friend and I. I recall feeling out of place, like I usual do at college anythings. And it's not because I think I'm above going college parties, playing beer pong, and having small talk with wasted dudes. It's because I'm fucking lame. I'm tall, kind of lanky, I wouldn’t deem myself as attractive, I have shitty tattoos, a deep voice for a female, and I get told frequently that I am intimidating. Above appearances, I never really know what to say most of the time. So I say shit that makes people uncomfortable. Or it makes them laugh. Whatever works. But to avoid any awkward feelings within myself on this night, I started drinking. My friend and I were probably pounding some shots by ourselves in the kitchen because we were both probably like, "What the fuck. We are so alone in this kitchen." Eventually, the guy she was talking to resurfaced from wherever he was. Looking back, I'm not fully sure why my friend and I were alone in the kitchen. But it's really not that far-fetched that we would be drinking by ourselves in a house full of people. Anyway, we began socializing with the boys of the household. Earlier that night, my friend was trying to talk me into making out with one of her boyfriend's roommates. I probably made a stale face. The face I make where it looks like I'm kind of constipated and very displeased. I really wasn't about that style. Usually I'm pretty down with a rolling around and make out session. But there was a reason. Maybe two.
Reason One: He wasn’t really my type. Well, that's a lie. I don't really have a type. I once dated a crust punk. A body builder. An accountant. I even made out with a murderer one time. No really, he actually killed someone. Whatever, I'm just an avid sayer of the word, "no" when something isn't my idea.
Reason Two: This all stems from that bit of information that is crucial to this eggy blog post. I was at this house before. I have met these boys before. I have met their social circle before. I'll come back to this reason.
This is where things get a little unclear and it's not because I was hammered. I was actually sober and functioning perfectly fine. I could have drove and left. If my memory serves me correctly, I remember my friend laying on the ground outside in the dark and screaming obscenities at the stars. I think that's when I realized that we were going to be sleeping at this house. I'm sure it was late at this point and I wouldn't have minded curling up on a couch. But of course I didn't curl up on a couch. Because otherwise there would be no eggy blog post. While my friend was taking a dirt nap of sorts outside, I was talking to the roommate that she wanted me to hook up with. I'm pretty sure while she was rolling around outside, she was yell-whispering, "Just touch his penis. I won't tell." So the roommate and I hung out. We talked about… stuff. I actually have no idea what the fuck we talked about. All I know is that we were in his room now. A room that had two beds, one of which had clothes and everything humanly possible dumped on one. And the other, which is the one that we were sitting on. And the lights went out. I'm sure it was an un-smooth transition. Talking about turning off the lights, getting up, walking around the piles of clothes on the floor, and then stumbling in the dark to find the bed again. You should know where this is going. It's some pretty basic shit. We bone in the dark on this tiny ass bed. I'm not going to give the dirty little details because honestly, I really don't remember them. All I do remember is myself feeling bored and trying to fuck this dude like I had something to prove. Because I was bored and uninterested. And because I wanted to see what I could get away with doing, which is usually the reason why I do anything in my life. And then it ended and I'm sure I laid there in the dark with a stupid grin on my face thinking, "lol what." So I fell asleep and woke up to a cell phone alarm clock that wasn't his because it was mine. I had to be at work at 9:30 am. I remember frantically silencing my phone because I sure as fuck didn't want to wake him up and have to deal with that morning after interaction. I just wanted out. But before I could get out, I had to find my clothes that I chose not to strategically place the night before to ensure a smart exit. Jeans, bra, shoes. Check. Shirt? Shit. I began to tip toe around this room that I now realize is a fucking mess in the daylight.
I'm tiptoeing. He's still sleeping. I'm rummaging through his belongings. He's still sleeping. I'm laughing.
I realize that I have only an hour to get to work and I'm all of the way in this college town. I break from the shirt hunt to pee. The bathroom smelled weird, there were hair clippings everywhere on the floor and sink, and no toilet paper. A pretty standard college arrangement. I'm still laughing except now I'm gagging simultaneously. I returned to the shirt hunt for about a minute and then just shrugged my shoulders and threw my hands in the air. No one in the house was awake and I'm pretty much a hoarder so there was probably a shirt in my car. So I was basically like, "fuck that cropped top anyway!" I bolted down the stairs in my bra and opened the front door. Only to see a guy in a dress shirt and dress pants standing there in front of me with a door key in his hand. I obviously smiled and said hello. I didn't want to be a rude and a tramp. The shirt hunt continued in my car. I would have been successful if I had been hunting for cigarette packs, Vitamin Water bottles, and Dunkin Donuts bags but I wasn't. I was fucked. I got in my car and drove to work in my bra and cackled the whole way there. Luckily or unluckily for me, I was working in retail at the time and I was the opening manager. I made a paper Dunkin Donuts tube top, opened the store, bought a top, and pretended that shit didn't happen. I immediately texted my friend about my morning calamity because I knew, "I slept with ______ last night. I couldn't find my shirt. So I went to work with no shirt" is a pretty good text to wake up to. I also requested that she try to find my shirt whenever she woke up. Turns out he was sleeping on my shirt. Turns out the dude wearing the dress shirt and dress pants was one of the roommates who was also going to work in the morning. Turns out the bed I had sex on wasn't his bed because it was his roommate’s bed. All in all, this is a pretty typical "Taking One For The Team" story. I'm not too sure if I was really taking one for the team or if I was just being a hussy because I needed to kill some time. The only reason why I even know his last name is because sometimes my friend will screen cap his Facebook profile picture and send it to me for laughs and shame because of...
Reason Two: It all comes back to reason two. At a New Years Eve gathering at this house, I met a guy and we exchanged phone numbers. I told him to his face that his name didn't suit him so I gave him a name and started calling him by that. Because I'm an asshole. We texted for a while and even hung out for a few months. And yes, we boned. And it was decent. But I wouldn't call it dating because he lived too far and I have a short attention span. I would drive an hour and a half to see him and this eventually died out probably because I didn't feel like driving an hour and a half to see him. We continued to text each other for several months after and then nature took its course and the text-relationship died. Much like everything else in life. But this boy was best friends with the boy who slept on my shirt. A classic case of well-poisoning.
Well-poisoning: tainting a circle of friends with sex
At the time, I was uncertain of the extent of their best friendship, but I had a pretty good idea and I did it anyway. I wasn't angry with anyone or acting out of spite. They didn't do anything wrong. I just felt like doing what I wanted to do and I was sex rampaging because I felt shitty about a break up that happened more than a year before. I am horrified that I exist. I am horrified that people like me exist. And after it all happened, I was curious for months whether they found out about each other. There was even a point in time where I had started hanging out with NYE boy again after I had slept with his best friend and no one was calling me out on being a dirtbag. Truth of the matter is, I didn't really feel bad about the situation. I just wasn't sorry bro. I thought it was amusing. And I genuinely wanted to see if I could pull this off. Months later my friend had told me that they figured out about each other and they weren't mad. They high-fived. Pretty standard college arrangement. I wasn't trying to hide it from them. I didn't really care. Does that make me a bad person? It could. It did. I would never do something like that again. I wouldn't find it that amusing if I had been on the other end and it kind of freaks me out how nonchalant I was about the whole thing. And now? NYE boy texts me occasionally and it's almost always after 2 am. The last text I received from him was my name with an "s" at the end of it and I replied, "hiking." I wasn't hiking. I was probably drinking or sober even, but I'm just a fucking weirdo. As for sloppy room ate my shirt boy? I don't know. I haven't seen him since as long as you’re not counting a screen capped photograph of him holding a puppy while wearing pajama pants. Sorry bros.
Crossing Swords 2013
Description: When you fall in like with a facade.
I was putting on my mascara looking in the mirror, and Jill was sitting on my bed listening to me complain about my then boyfriends lack of enthusiasm about our relationship. She bounces upwards almost crying out "Oh my god! I have the perfect guy for you."
I wasn't so interested in the idea of being set up. No one knows what I am into. Hell, I don't even know what I look for in a guy. So I politely turned her down.
"No one knows you better than me. Come on! When have I once ever uttered those words to you? I have higher standards than you do for guys that should be dating you. His name is Guy and the two of you are perfect for each other."
That's a terrible name I thought. Pictures of what this dude would look like were pretty horrendous flashing through my head at this point.
"He's Richard's roommate. The other day we were walking into the apartment, and he's sitting on the couch, wearing his boxers, and blasting Ke$ha on his phone. Richard looks at me and says "Hey, wouldn't Guy and Alicia be perfect for each other?""
I do like some Ke$ha... Richard proposed this? This just got interesting...
"He's so sweet too. He has lunch with his father every day, and always kisses him on the cheek."
That's pretty fucking sweet.
Even though I was intrigued at that point, I turned her down.
I headed to the neighboring city to visit Jill and her boyfriend Richard about a month later. When I got there, Jill informed me that we were meeting Richard and Guy for dinner. I was not excited to meet this bro. She had told me great things about him, but right then and there I didn't care. Because I had eaten a hot dog while waiting for the bus that definitely gave me food poisoning. So up until we actually sat down for dinner, I was more concerned about not shitting my pants, and eating chewable mint flavored pepto bismol tablets.
Richard, Jill, and myself sat down at the small crowded sushi restaurant. Guy was late. I kept picturing these terrible looking dudes in my mind sitting in the seat across from me.
This is going to suck. I thought.
Suddenly a tall handsome guy wearing a pea coat slid in the seat across from me. He had tan skin, slicked back dark hair, and a crooked smile. He looked like he walked out of a J Crew catalog.
Jill and Richard were really looking out.
We started making small talk, and I made a bunch of stupid jokes that everyone actually laughed at. The whole entire dinner went really well. I was absolutely pleased with my friends pushy-ness.
However, there's the factor of, What does he think of me?
Jill was very quick to answer this question I had burning in my brain. We walked ahead of the boys after dinner, and she informed me that when I got up to go to the bathroom he announced to her and Richard, "Just for the record. I think that girl is really cute."
After dinner we made our way to a bar. We met up with Jill's two gay friends Tony and Bill. Before I knew it, we were wasted, and I was outside drunk smoking with Guy. I don't even know what we talked about, but I could tell he was kind of following me around.
Richard left the group at this point to go home because he had work the next day. Guy did not leave with the only other straight male. Instead he stayed out with two best girlfriends, and two homosexual males.
He likes me.
We ended up drunkenly doing karaoke at a bar down the street. I sang Ke$ha, and Salt N Peppa. I was even drunk enough to dry hump at the gays.
You can always judge a man by if he's man enough to sing, and he definitely was. I noticed the later it got, the more Guy kept disappearing with the older of the two gay men with us Tony, to go outside and smoke. Jill and I were on the couch drunkenly singing Morrissey songs sharing a mic.
When the karaoke session ended we left the bar. I confessed to Jill that I didn't know how I was going to pay for all of these drinks I did not order, but was pressured to consume by everyone. I didn't receive my direct deposit in my bank account until 9AM. She looks at me and says "It's okay. Guy will pay for it. Don't worry about it. He makes like $100,000 a year."
This was too good to be true. Attractive, sings karaoke, thinks I am cute, has a good job? Like... What?
Sure enough he paid for it. We started drunkenly walking back to Jill's house. We were all rambling on about nothing. Guy and the older gay man Tony were deep in conversation, and I could tell Tony was flirting with him. I thought it was sweet that Guy wasn't a typical bro, and upset by getting hit on by a gay man.
Then it happened. I looked down, and Guy was holding my hand. I looked at him pretty surprised, and he wasn't looking at me at all. In fact he was just casually talking to Tony about the cities layout.
We walked him to the train station and he hugged me goodbye.
"When are you coming back to the city?"
"I am probably not."
"Well then, I guess I am just going to have to come and visit you."
We parted ways.
The next day I went shopping with Jill. I tried to not let her know that I was interested in Guy. I finally realized it was inevitable if I wanted to see him again during my trip. So I told her I'd take a later bus back home if we met up with the boys for dinner.
They both agreed, and we went to an italian place for some seriously delicious gourmet pizza. I got way too drunk on wine, and could feel myself becoming a bit obnoxious.
The second dinner was super awkward. Guy and I had to sit next to each other, and we didn't even really know how to strike up a conversation. Jill and Richard were completely all over each other being overly affectionate, and the two of us had nothing to do but sit there and watch.
I got progressively drunker and began texting during the meal. YES. I know that was rude, but he wasn't talking to me. So I gave up.
I decided to book my bus ticket home for that night on my phone. Fear washed over me. All of the busses for the rest of the evening were sold out, and I had work at 9AM the next morning so that was cool. I could feel my face getting flushed when I admitted to the table my mistake. We worked it out that since Jill was staying at Richard's and Guy's apartment that night that I would too.
I fell asleep in the cab on our way to their place. I was drunk, Jill was telling embarrassing stories from our childhood, and I kept coming in and out of consciousness occasionally commenting on situations. When we got to their apartment we took the elevator up, and I claimed a corner of the couch I was going to call bed for the night. I booked a bus ticket for 5AM to get me back home, and to work on time even if there was traffic.
Guy sat on the opposite end of the couch, and Jill directed me to where I could find a cab in the wee hours of the morning before she went to Richard's room.
Guy looked over at me and offered to take me to the bus. I didn't want to accept, but hailing a cab that early in the morning just sounded horrific.
After I had risen from the dead, and applied a natural looking layer of make up to look like I had just floated off from the couch looking immaculate. I found myself stretching in the living room waiting for this bro. I turned around after cracking my back, and he was casually standing in the doorway with his arms crossed smirking at me.
Fuck. This bro is cute.
We walked to his car which ended up being a new Mercedes. As soon as we got inside of it he turned and looked at me completely shocked.
"Did you just see that?"
"No, What?"
"There's a guy in that truck over there getting a blow job."
"What? Where?"
When we drove by the truck he slowed down so I could creep look in the passenger window. Sure enough there was a portly ass in the window with the appropriate head movements to confirm what Guy said he saw.
The rest of the ride was light hearted. We connected better with out our mutual friends PDA across from us. I decided that he was really nice, and that I definitely liked him. When we got to the bus station I wanted him to ask for my number, but he didn't. I wanted to give him my number, but I didn't. I thanked him for the ride and he drove off.
I later told Jill to give Guy my phone number when she asked if I made it back alright.
He texted me the next day, and for a week straight we kept in contact with each other until he asked me to come back and visit again.
So I got on the bus and headed back to the city to see what life could be like with the ideal bro. I got there early in the morning so I could spend the day with Jill before he got off of work. We were sitting in a bar wearing fur coats when she asked me the question "So what are your expectations with Guy this weekend?"
I really didn't have any. I was hoping to hang out and get to know him better, possibly kiss? I am 24 and still think like a 14 year old. This is my problem. I am so naive.
After a glass of wine my phone rang. He was back at his apartment and he wanted Jill and I to meet him there.
It was a fun evening. I gave Jill the wine I had brought with me for her, and I presented Richard and Guy with a bottle of champagne and whiskey.
"What are you exactly expecting to happen this weekend?" They asked laughing at me.
We went to a bar to grab some food. All night I kept hearing about Lou, and how much everyone was disgusted with him. He was apparently Richard and Guy's other roommate. Who is crude and foul.
"He has a tattoo that says get the butter."
Jill and Richard had a misunderstanding, and she ran out of the bar when he went to the bathroom, but some how still managed to have enough time to order another drink for me. Guy and I had a good conversation and we split the bill for the two star crossed lovers.
We took a cab back to his apartment and ended up in his room smoking weed. He was playing some bro-esque music. Possibly Phish or DMB in the background. Barf. I was willing to over look it though, because he seemed to be so wonderfully perfect. We were talking about some none sense when I noticed something unusual. He had his ties hung perfectly on a tie rack, and color coded. I walked over to them high as a kite and started cackling.
"You color code your ties?"
I looked at this row of hanging fabric and noticed that most of them were from Vineyard Vines. Something I loathed as a child and teenager.
I picked one that was yellow with little sheep printed on it, and threw it on with my fur coat. I then plopped back on the chair in his room, and noticed something else that caught my interest on the book shelf.
"You read consumer reports for fun?"
"Yeah, my Dad got me a subscription."
"Have they helped you make any important decisions?"
"Well, actually no. Because I want to buy a food processor, and there's no reports on food processors."
"I can't with you right now." I cackled.
Just then the roommate Jill, Richard, and Guy had been complaining about all evening over dinner came home. We heard him thump around the apartment for a moment.
"You've gotta meet this guy."
Guy swung the door open to grab his roommate in the hall. It felt really dramatic. Like he possibly was about to let the dogs outs.
Lou emerged from the hallway. He was short, balding, and bearded. Not at all what I pictured. He was complaining about some party he went to that was apparently held in a room titled "The Aquarium Room."
"I mean all I am saying is, if there's a room titled the aquarium room, you should have at least two or more aquariums."
I sat there bored while the two of them talked. I joined in occasionally. I realized something at this moment. That Guy actually liked Lou. He bitched with Richard and Jill about how disgusting he was, but he actually enjoyed his company.
Jill walked out of Richard's room on her way to the bathroom. Paused. Noticed that Lou was there, and gave me a really confused look.
"Alicia, can I see you in the living room?"
I somehow removed my stoned ass from the large comfy chair (which pretty much felt like torture), and followed her into the living room.
"What the fuck is Lou doing in there?"
"I am not sure. I told him that I had no interest in meeting Lou, but he insisted."
"He probably just wanted him to see how pretty you are."
We sat in the living room and talked, and I was pretty high. So I did what I always do when I am too high. I fell asleep. I came in and out of consciousness to realize that Guy and Lou had also moved to the living room, and just in time to see Jill get up and scurry off, and away from Lou, as quickly as possible.
I awoke realizing that someone was rubbing my feet. I looked over, and it was Guy sitting at the end of the couch.
"Do you want to go to the bedroom?"
I got up and followed him back into his room. In what seemed like one swift move he turned on his music, turned off the lights, leaned in for a kiss, and lowered his blinds.
I laughed in his mouth.
He told me I was awkward.
We ended up kissing for a while, I am not sure when, but at some point I fell asleep. I woke up to him playing with my hair, and asking me if I always wake up this early.
For the rest of the day we were pretty much in his room making out.
We went out to dinner with Jill and Richard again that night. The food wasn't that good, and I started to feel sick. I was trying to be nice, but Jill got drunk off of absinthe, and made embarrassing comments at the end of the meal.
"You guys like each other so much. I can't wait until the two of you get married and have babies."
I pulled my hat over my face, begging her to stop. I stepped out side to get some fresh air because I thought I was going to puke at one point, and instead of puking lit a cigarette. Guy followed me out and kept me company. When we went back inside Richard was back at the table tending to a very drunk Jill.
"I know. I heard everything. I'll take care of it."
Richard ushered Jill away from the two of us, and threw her in a cab. Jill practically gushed at me and waved goodbye.
It was pretty amazing how much she wanted me to be happy.
Guy and I found a bar around the corner. Where he admitted to me over drinks that my sense of humor makes him feel uncomfortable. I didn't really know how to make conversation after that. We left the bar and while he was hailing a cab to take me back to his place he leaned in for a kiss that made me practically melt in his arms.
We got back to his apartment and smoked weed.
He played Jack Johnson on his i-pod.
We started kissing, and he kept trying to sleep with me. I kept pushing his hands away and saying no, but he kept trying.
"Wow, you're relentless!"
"Well, it's your fault that I am relentless."
"How is it my fault?"
He never answered. I rolled over and stared out of his window at the nearly deserted street below. Suddenly, I felt a whole bunch of feelings wash over me that I didn't really know how to process at that time.
"Hey, don't do that."
He said this to me while hugging and kissing me. It made me feel much better about the situation, but not completely as comfortable as I was before. I probably would have slept with him if he had given up after a reasonable amount of attempts, and I could pretend like it was my idea. I probably would have even slept with him the next morning if we fell asleep after he gave up. I pretty much decided that I didn't want to sleep with him because he was so damn persistent.
I woke up in his arms at 10:43 AM.
"You slept a long time. I had to hold myself back from playing with your hair while you were sleeping because I didn't want to wake you up."
While I was doing my make up I confided in Jill what happened the night before.
"That's normal. Every guy I've ever made out with has tried to sleep with me since like the age of 14."
"That wasn't what was bothering me. I mean... I can understand saying no a couple of times being normal, but he just kept trying."
"Guys think every girl is going to say no the first time they try to have sex with them because they think the girl is trying to uphold a certain kind of image. He probably thought you wanted him to keep trying."
I gave up at that point.
In the elevator on our way down to Guy's car he kissed me. "That lip gloss you have on feels so good. What brand is it?"
SUSPECT.
We got in his Mercedes. During the drive I looked out the passenger window at all of the buildings on our ride to the bus station. It felt nice to be driven around by an extremely handsome guy, in an extremely nice car. When he dropped me off, he got out of the car carrying my bag, and my fur coat for me. Before he handed me my things, he took me in his arms, and kissed me like I have never been kissed before.
I literally stumbled towards the bus like an idiot.
We made plans for next month for him to come visit me, and stay at my apartment. A week prior to him coming we held a full text conversation about google maps, and ONLY about google maps. I could sense something was wrong. Two days prior to his planned arrival I asked him again if he was still coming to visit.
"No, I am not going to make it out this time. It's just really bad timing... I guess I owe you a couple of shamrock shakes, huh?"
What kind of welfare witchcraft is this?
I finally pressured the issue a little more. He finally admitted to seeing someone else, and that he felt terrible for leading me on. I was disappointed, but not surprised. We lived in two different cities. This could have never worked.
Jill came to visit me in his place.
Eventually, I find out that he's regretting not coming to see me. That I was his first choice. That this other girl was just convenient, and that he actually does want to try to pursue something with me.
I was pretty excited when I got this news. I mean, I was still curious.
Not even 24 hours later, I find out that him and Lou went out together, and picked up a random girl out side of a bar. They partook in a devil's threesome.
A Devil's Threesome - When two male counterparts, and one female have... well, A threesome.
Photos were definitely snapped. Swords were probably crossed. The words "Woohoo Let's Party!" were apparently shouted.
Jill and Richard were home, and forced to listen to the threesome late into the night. Lou and Guy were under the impression that they were at Richard's parents house for the weekend.
In case this situation didn't just get eggy enough for you, Lou and Guy were also over heard by Jill saying
"We annihilated her last night. I hope she feels terrible about herself today."
All I can say is, I spooned with this bro.
'It's not always easy and Sometimes life can be deceiving I'll tell you one thing, it's always better when we're together Mmm, it's always better when we're together'
-Jack Johnson