A prelude to my evening: When in doubt recycle it out
I believe in being green in all facets of life, and in reusing natural resources - e.g. man bits. This is particularly true in large metropolitan areas such as NYC where the supply of viable man bits is limited. To work with such confines I am sure to stay buddies with the majority of my former flings, said connectivity in thanks to MySpace, Facebook & AIM.
Exceptions follow below:
- Gym hot tub spring ‘05 guy (fiance issue).
- Fall ‘07 guy (suffers from terminal Stage IV douchebagosity).
- March ‘08 guy (thinks I am 1. [v.] crazy 2. an alcoholic).
Recyclage is necessary as this virtual dating stint has yet to progress past 5 alcohol units. Traditionally intro to new bed buddies 101 involves 10-12 units. Therefore this evening I have a reunionesque sleepover with Adam, Fall ‘04 guy.
Brief history:
Between college graduation & bailing out of the country for a party year, I had myself a little financial layover in Cape Cod, where I led a glorious lifestyle of beach bum by day, cocktail waitress by night. One evening Adam & his buddies came in and we danced the dance of Adam wanting to ask for my number and losing his balls. Howevs, balls of steel they hardened into, as the next time he came in, my digits were secured.
Being Cape Cod, there isn’t much to do in the Summer-to-Fall transition except rock a strictly horizontal relationship and that is precisely how we rolled. Alas Cape Cod living involved living in mom’s house, therefore hookup sessions were limited to Adam’s buddies summer home and mom’s downstairs guest room. Which, until apathy kicked in, involved getting Adam out before mom woke up.
Perks to the home setup:
- Mom digs her rose colored glasses.
- Adam’s buddies couldn’t walk in on us.
- I was able to run upstairs for “the bathroom” and deviate to my bedroom for vodka shots. This carried on until the time I got caught. Note: do not kiss someone immediately after doing straight vodka shots. Promptly follow with a chug of mixer and/or mouthwash after said shot.
This went on on a bit until I moved to London & “didn’t tell” Adam. This is further proof that Adam never listened.
Our first post-hookup, Outlook-esque arrangement followed up five months later when I popped back to the States for a wedding. Said all night session of ridiculousness depleted my brain cells to the point of going to IHOP the next morning and pouring coffee on my pancakes, thinking it was syrup. And eating 1/4 of the stack before realizing my misshapen actions. I am a professional eater. When someone bangs me silly to the point of struggling with my skilled method of consumption, I know he’s a casual booty call keeper.
Hence, my plans for this evening. I am at present considering cancelling my early AM conference call.
