Through all the years of my life, I have come to the conclusion that I am good for two things: Getting myself into awful situations, and living to tell about it. Some of these involve alcohol, some involve medications, but ALL of them include my general dumbassery which, far outweighs the effects of anything else. These are the stories. Don’t judge me.
Not My Proudest Moment: The Impromptu Waterbed part 1
A while back, I was living in San Ramon, CA. Freshly single and finally having fun with it. I had carved out a nice little niche of befriending, and ultimately sexing with various waitresses, bartenders and other women in the service industry. As an admittedly, not great looking guy with a pretty fantastic personality, I found that sitting at a restaurant table, or bellying up to a bar worked to my advantage more than flailing around like some spastic cokehead at a nightclub where girl’s were forced to simply judge me on looks as opposed to how I could make them laugh. But just like everything else in life, being successful at something, typically leads to you trying to garner more success. Sometimes unattainable successes.
One waitress in particular was never my type. She was younger than me, had big boobs (I have never been a boob guy) and was blonde (despite my dating history, I swear I am more attracted to girls with darker features as opposed to Hitler’s youth). Despite her obvious flaws, I couldn’t shake the sensation that, well…I really wanted to have sex with her. I also wanted to have sex with one of her co-workers. And having sex with one, would negate me having sex with the other. Did I forget to mention that they were best friends? Because they were. So even though I really, really wanted to, I figured it wouldn’t happen with either one, swiftly placed both into the “friend” category and moved on with my life.
Then something odd happened.
One night, out of the blue, the two girls approached me about having a “slumber party” at my place one weekend. Once they got off of work, they wanted to come over, drink at my place and sleep over. Before they could finish their plan, I was already grinning a diabolical grin like The Grinch hatching his plan to steal Christmas while simultaneously evicting them from the “friend” category, right smack dab into the middle of Bang City, USA.
That entire Saturday was glorious. I vacuumed the carpet, I vacuumed the couches, hell, I am pretty sure I vacuumed myself. I went to the store and bought the finest 30 pack of Coors Light I could find, purchased replacement Glade Plug-Ins to make my apartment smell less like a bachelor was living there, and even sprung for the fancy condoms that actually do what they say they are going to do. Needless to say, I was prepared. I was like a sexual boy scout who was about to earn his menage a trois badge. Life was great. Nothing could knock me off of the ninth cloud I was riding.
Or so I thought.
There was a knock at the door in the mid-evening. This was odd for two reasons. First off, it was way too early for the girls to be off work, and secondly, they never knocked. I would leave the door unlocked and people would simply walk in, hang out and leave at their leisure. It was a system. A system that was working nicely. And out of no where, this jarring knocking sound was throwing me off of my life equilibrium. Putting that thought aside however, I stupidly figured that the girls were too excited to get our sex party started, got their shifts covered and came straight over to my place.
In fact, the two people staring at me when I opened the door were not the girls. They weren’t girls at all. They were guys. Guys I haven’t seen in years, possibly even a decade. I must have had a look on my face like someone had farted in church because both apologized for stopping by unexpectedly, but saw on my Facebook that I was staying in for the night, and figured they would come over and hang out with me. While a nice gesture, and one I would normally embrace. This simply could not happen on my big not. I refuse to let these two assholes screw up my sexy time. But when they flashed a 30 pack of Coors Light that they brought with them as well, I stepped aside and let them come on in.
“You guys can’t stay long,” I said.
“Why not?” They asked.
“Because I sort of have a couple of girls coming over later and it might be weird that two unannounced dudes happen to be here as well.”
“Oh okay, well just tell us when we need to go.”
“How about now?”
We all laugh at my funny (but totally serious) joke and crack open a beer. One beer leads to three, which leads to five and before I know it, the front door is opening with the familiar feminine sounds of the girls talking and getting ready to make a stupid joke about me that I would have to laugh at (as a general rule, women aren’t funny…sorry, you aren’t). Their joke was cut off as soon as they see that there are other dudes in the room. They try their best to be polite, but you could barely take a breath before they wer eon their phones, scrambling ot make other plans.
The threesome was busted. The girls soon left, admitting on their way out that they were not expecting other people to be there and that maybe some other time we would have our party (we never did, for the record). I stormed back up my stairs to my second story dwelling, fully prepared to kick the shit out of my friends. As I reached the threshold, I was perplexed to see yet another girl sitting in my place, making friends with the boys.
I knew who this girl was. I had history with this girl. And when she drank, she got insanely drunk. She took one look around the room, decided that she needed to play catch up with us guys, and immediately started pounding beers, taking shots of vodka and stumbling around my place like, well… a drunken girl.
“This cannot end well,” I thought…
to be continued…