Since June of this year, I have wondered where I would end up by the time my daughter turned three. Would I be dead, in prison, committed to an asylum, backpacking through Europe, doing something, anything, other than what the hell I've been doing all along? Nope, not a fucking chance. But you know what? I don't really give a damn to be completely truthful. Give me a few months and I'll consider it, but for now I am perfectly content entertaining the notion of being semi-permanently twenty-one. Besides, my therapist says it's good for me.
I'm ok with the nightly, revelrous carousing, the womanizing, and the complete disregard for my own safety or well-being. I've come to terms with the fact that virtually all of my expendable income will be spent on alcohol, women, or frivolities. I have accepted that at least once during a week I will end up at work wearing the same thing I had been wearing the night before. I am totally cool with that awkward feeling I have in the pit of my stomach after sexing up some chick I really have no feelings for, but have now formed this strange, unshakable, post-coital bond which I have no choice but to attribute to a puritanical bias and my horribly annoying need to avoid inflicting emotional turmoil upon others. Is it just me or is it really starting to sound like I am trying to convince myself of these truths? Three months ago those words would have escaped my mouth with nary a trace of doubt and with an unwavering tone. Twelve months ago I would have been ecstatic about such a situation and cackled with glee at the chance to let my inner hedonist loose upon the world with his misanthropic friend clutching him by the coattails. These days, not so much.
Thursday:
This one is easy. Walk into the bar, grab myself a seat, and order a Jameson's, straight up. The lovely Ms. S then proceeds to pour me a *glass* of scotch. Not a shot, not a jigger or a snifter, a friggen glass. Great way to start out a night. The remainder of the evening wound up exactly like you would expect.
Friday:
A fairly uneventful night at the pub ended early when I asked a friend to drop me off at my home ~11:00 P.M. Not yet ready to go to sleep, I head down to the bar (really, there are only two places I ever go with any consistency, the pub and the bar). It's not exactly packed but the place does fill out nicely while still leaving room to find a seat should one be so inclined. I'm sitting next to a friend of a friend, well not really a friend so much as my friend's girlfriend, and she is having a blast telling me all about something I wasn't really paying attention to. I suppose I don't mind pretending to listen to someone's idle chatter if for no other reason than it gives me someone to smile and nod at so that it looks like I am being social. Before my eyes roll into the back of my head, my friend Kev shows up and sits between myself and his girlfriend. A detail that is not particularly notable but I'd like to point out regardless is that he sat between the two of us because there was a seat intentionally left empty when I sat down.
They go about their usual bickering and I go about my usual mingling from my perch at the bar. Robin, a regular, finally remembered my name and from that point forward in the evening she made sure to inform me of such at regular intervals. I would smile and say something enthusiastic, which would inevitably elicit a high-five. She really is quite cute when she does it. Much merriment is had, many friends are greeted, and the loss of a friend of many is mourned before a shout of "Last Call!" is heard over the din of the crowd and the squawking of the juke box.
Being the jovial and affable gentleman that I am, I again receive an invite to the after party at a friend's house. By the time I arrive people are already working on the beginnings of a Beer Pong tourney, someone is toking in the kitchen, and the Director (a friend's cousin that I tend to have really good conversations with at 4:00 AM) shows up with his wife. Moments later, the lovely Ms. S enters to much fanfare. See, here's the thing about Ms. S. I could stare at her all day and I can't precisely tell why. I am fairly certain that I am not attracted to her in a romantic/sexual sense and we really don't jive that well personality-wise. There is just something captivating about her that holds my attention whenever I am around her. Her facial expressions speak volumes without a word ever needing to be said, perhaps conveying more than she intends. It bugs me that I don't know why but for now I'll just be content to know that I enjoy watching her. I'll work on convincing myself at some other point down the road that the true reason is a subconscious desire to impregnate her; I'm a little too busy to deal with the rationalization neccessary to accomplish that task right now.
A couple beers and a round of Beer Pong later I am in dire need of a restroom. As I am standing there draining a six-pack it would seem that someone else also had the same ambitions of using the facilities as well, a female in fact. At first she let out a little gasp and stammered an apology while quickly closing the door, but after I informed her that I wasn't upset (through a closed door mind you) and she needn't feel bad that apparently meant to her that she should perform a similar act again, and again. I was drunk enough that I wasn't so easily embarrassed and shrugged it off as just another drunk chick being silly.
Throw down a couple of shakes, zip up, and get to the sink to wash my hands when the woman who had been playing around with the door barges in after noticing that the toilet was free. With her friend in tow, she closes the door and drops trow before I even have the chance to turn off the faucet. Now I have to admit I've seen quite a bit in my day, but never have I witnessed a woman pull down her pants in front of a total stranger in a bathroom, or anywhere that wasn't a strip club for that matter. I'll just assume that she really, really had to go. Once the two women (the one not peeing was standing directly in my path to exit the bathroom by the way) noticed the complete state of shock I had entered both began to giggle maniacally while I proceeded to blush profusely. Is there something about a man blushing that turns drunken women on that I am completely unaware of? Ladies, help me out here.
Almost as if it were premeditated, the one standing up comes over and puts her arm around me, kisses me on the cheek and says something to the effect of "That's so cute!" Normally I wouldn't think much of this except that she kept her arm wrapped around me and kissed me a few more times, and not all of them were pecks on the cheek. Pee girl finally finishes her business, but instead of the two of them leaving they decide that they would rather hang out in a bathroom with me. By this time I am starting to get a chubby, what with this chick on my left rubbing all up on me and kissing all over me and Pee girl eyeballing me kind of funny. Pee girl, unscrupulously checking out my package, makes several comments on it and another round of giggling ensues.
I'm still trying to figure out how the topic of conversation went from peeing in front of a strange male you've never met before, to my penis, and then to the two girls taking off their shirts but that is where it arrived. "Ready? 1, 2, 3!" counts off the girl on my left and up comes the shirt. Great pair of tits I must say; it's just a shame that Pee girl declined to participate, though as I would later find out she was married which might explain her reluctance. More giggling, more blushing, more kissing, and more discussion of various inappropriate topics continued for a little while longer until at long last a knock at the door signaled someone else's need to use the restroom. Had I been a different kind of man, instead of feeling awkwardly trapped by two drunken women's weird fantasy of being dirty in someone's bathroom, I would have been balls deep in one and knuckle deep in the other while uttering long strings of profanities to both.
On the bright side, the look on everyone's face as I followed these two women out from the bathroom was priceless. In retrospect I am sort of glad that I didn't take advantage of the situation, well at least not more than not protesting, because as it turns out the very friendly flashing girl just happened to be the Director's sister, who is in turn cousins with my friend Kev and also cousins with my friend whose house we were all partying at. Now that would have been an uncomfortable situation.
Like I always never say "Discretion is the better part of valor".
I'm ok with the nightly, revelrous carousing, the womanizing, and the complete disregard for my own safety or well-being. I've come to terms with the fact that virtually all of my expendable income will be spent on alcohol, women, or frivolities. I have accepted that at least once during a week I will end up at work wearing the same thing I had been wearing the night before. I am totally cool with that awkward feeling I have in the pit of my stomach after sexing up some chick I really have no feelings for, but have now formed this strange, unshakable, post-coital bond which I have no choice but to attribute to a puritanical bias and my horribly annoying need to avoid inflicting emotional turmoil upon others. Is it just me or is it really starting to sound like I am trying to convince myself of these truths? Three months ago those words would have escaped my mouth with nary a trace of doubt and with an unwavering tone. Twelve months ago I would have been ecstatic about such a situation and cackled with glee at the chance to let my inner hedonist loose upon the world with his misanthropic friend clutching him by the coattails. These days, not so much.
Thursday:
This one is easy. Walk into the bar, grab myself a seat, and order a Jameson's, straight up. The lovely Ms. S then proceeds to pour me a *glass* of scotch. Not a shot, not a jigger or a snifter, a friggen glass. Great way to start out a night. The remainder of the evening wound up exactly like you would expect.
Friday:
A fairly uneventful night at the pub ended early when I asked a friend to drop me off at my home ~11:00 P.M. Not yet ready to go to sleep, I head down to the bar (really, there are only two places I ever go with any consistency, the pub and the bar). It's not exactly packed but the place does fill out nicely while still leaving room to find a seat should one be so inclined. I'm sitting next to a friend of a friend, well not really a friend so much as my friend's girlfriend, and she is having a blast telling me all about something I wasn't really paying attention to. I suppose I don't mind pretending to listen to someone's idle chatter if for no other reason than it gives me someone to smile and nod at so that it looks like I am being social. Before my eyes roll into the back of my head, my friend Kev shows up and sits between myself and his girlfriend. A detail that is not particularly notable but I'd like to point out regardless is that he sat between the two of us because there was a seat intentionally left empty when I sat down.
They go about their usual bickering and I go about my usual mingling from my perch at the bar. Robin, a regular, finally remembered my name and from that point forward in the evening she made sure to inform me of such at regular intervals. I would smile and say something enthusiastic, which would inevitably elicit a high-five. She really is quite cute when she does it. Much merriment is had, many friends are greeted, and the loss of a friend of many is mourned before a shout of "Last Call!" is heard over the din of the crowd and the squawking of the juke box.
Being the jovial and affable gentleman that I am, I again receive an invite to the after party at a friend's house. By the time I arrive people are already working on the beginnings of a Beer Pong tourney, someone is toking in the kitchen, and the Director (a friend's cousin that I tend to have really good conversations with at 4:00 AM) shows up with his wife. Moments later, the lovely Ms. S enters to much fanfare. See, here's the thing about Ms. S. I could stare at her all day and I can't precisely tell why. I am fairly certain that I am not attracted to her in a romantic/sexual sense and we really don't jive that well personality-wise. There is just something captivating about her that holds my attention whenever I am around her. Her facial expressions speak volumes without a word ever needing to be said, perhaps conveying more than she intends. It bugs me that I don't know why but for now I'll just be content to know that I enjoy watching her. I'll work on convincing myself at some other point down the road that the true reason is a subconscious desire to impregnate her; I'm a little too busy to deal with the rationalization neccessary to accomplish that task right now.
A couple beers and a round of Beer Pong later I am in dire need of a restroom. As I am standing there draining a six-pack it would seem that someone else also had the same ambitions of using the facilities as well, a female in fact. At first she let out a little gasp and stammered an apology while quickly closing the door, but after I informed her that I wasn't upset (through a closed door mind you) and she needn't feel bad that apparently meant to her that she should perform a similar act again, and again. I was drunk enough that I wasn't so easily embarrassed and shrugged it off as just another drunk chick being silly.
Throw down a couple of shakes, zip up, and get to the sink to wash my hands when the woman who had been playing around with the door barges in after noticing that the toilet was free. With her friend in tow, she closes the door and drops trow before I even have the chance to turn off the faucet. Now I have to admit I've seen quite a bit in my day, but never have I witnessed a woman pull down her pants in front of a total stranger in a bathroom, or anywhere that wasn't a strip club for that matter. I'll just assume that she really, really had to go. Once the two women (the one not peeing was standing directly in my path to exit the bathroom by the way) noticed the complete state of shock I had entered both began to giggle maniacally while I proceeded to blush profusely. Is there something about a man blushing that turns drunken women on that I am completely unaware of? Ladies, help me out here.
Almost as if it were premeditated, the one standing up comes over and puts her arm around me, kisses me on the cheek and says something to the effect of "That's so cute!" Normally I wouldn't think much of this except that she kept her arm wrapped around me and kissed me a few more times, and not all of them were pecks on the cheek. Pee girl finally finishes her business, but instead of the two of them leaving they decide that they would rather hang out in a bathroom with me. By this time I am starting to get a chubby, what with this chick on my left rubbing all up on me and kissing all over me and Pee girl eyeballing me kind of funny. Pee girl, unscrupulously checking out my package, makes several comments on it and another round of giggling ensues.
I'm still trying to figure out how the topic of conversation went from peeing in front of a strange male you've never met before, to my penis, and then to the two girls taking off their shirts but that is where it arrived. "Ready? 1, 2, 3!" counts off the girl on my left and up comes the shirt. Great pair of tits I must say; it's just a shame that Pee girl declined to participate, though as I would later find out she was married which might explain her reluctance. More giggling, more blushing, more kissing, and more discussion of various inappropriate topics continued for a little while longer until at long last a knock at the door signaled someone else's need to use the restroom. Had I been a different kind of man, instead of feeling awkwardly trapped by two drunken women's weird fantasy of being dirty in someone's bathroom, I would have been balls deep in one and knuckle deep in the other while uttering long strings of profanities to both.
On the bright side, the look on everyone's face as I followed these two women out from the bathroom was priceless. In retrospect I am sort of glad that I didn't take advantage of the situation, well at least not more than not protesting, because as it turns out the very friendly flashing girl just happened to be the Director's sister, who is in turn cousins with my friend Kev and also cousins with my friend whose house we were all partying at. Now that would have been an uncomfortable situation.
Like I always never say "Discretion is the better part of valor".
Respect though for the gentlemanly conduct. Respect.
I've totally given up on wondering where I'll be x years from now. I'm just thankful I've made it to today and I've got a chance to make it to tomorrow.
There is no such things as a 'leisurely walk' through a park in a storm. Sad as it may seem, I am proud to tell you this. I speak from experience. It's more like a 'holy shit what the fuck am I doing' sort of thing.
Getting a fence post through the skull would be skill though.