Brining up the tail is this gem, submitted by some mystery Industry creative I have the pleasure of interacting with. I know one-night stand week ended last Friday, but since I half-assed the last post of the series, I'm putting this one up today, cuz it's well written and is "cute" to me. I say "cute" because this man is mortified by a one-off experience that could have been an average Wednesday night for me back in the day. Adorbs!
This is the story of a one-night stand that pretty much ended me ever having another one night stand. It’s a story I cannot tell using my real name, and that I can never publish as a blog or short story because I have daughters (hello there Karma) and really… they do not need to know just how messed up their father was.
The setup is this: I was in a band in the NW from 90-93. Just as “grunge” broke. This meant that, by 92, every goddamn label in the world was taking you to dinner, re-enacting Pink Floyd’s Have a Cigar, regardless of your musical merit (or lack thereof). If you wanted to take advantage of this, you had to have an EP or Studio Demo. We wanted money and cigars, so we headed to Seattle the last week of December to record. We were in the studio on the 29th-30th, with “mixing” January 2nd with Industrial Partying scheduled for New Year’s Eve.
I and the members of my band, along with some other friends who were in bands, rolled into Pioneer Square around 10pm. We paid the $8 that would allow us to get in to 8 different bars and went to work, going from bar to bar, drinking like fish, and by the time we ended up at the Pioneer Square Saloon, it was late enough that the bar was out of mugs. That’s fine, we were problem solvers, solution oriented, so we simply each bought a pitcher and drank from that.
Things get WAY fuzzy from there.
|Generally what my bar Holidays looked like. I'd bend over for just about anyone… Just sayin', I can relate to where this story is going… ('08)|
At some point, hammered out of my mind, I stood in the VERY long line to use the ONE bathroom in the bar. When it was finally my turn, a girl dodged in ahead of me, which caused me to say something drunk like “Whassa…issa MINE turny!” The girl informed me that she was going in WITH me, so that AFTER I pissed, then I could guard the door while SHE pissed. Even drunk to near blackout I told her I can’t pee in front of people, but I’d guard the door for her, then I’d piss in happy solitude. She did, sticking her tongue down my throat as she left. I thought it was funny and wrote it off.
The rest of the night, every 15 minutes or so (Drunk subjective time) this girl would circle back, grab my ass, make out with me, stick her hands down my pants. The band members kept asking “Who the hell is that?!” to which I could only give the drunken suave shrug, telling them “Fuhhh iv AH noes.”
Cut forward to midnight and this girl is hauling on me, telling me to come home with her. I do not live in town, I’m staying with a friend. I am drunker than I’ve been that one time when the Mom of a high school classmate gave me Everclear. I have no car. I can’t go home with her. I will be STUCK. I tell her all of these things. Repeatedly.
15 minutes later we are at her sister’s place. Which is a one-room studio. The guy her sister picked up is busily fucking away, and this girl that has accosted me tries to start things going mere feet away. I can’t pee in front of people lady, you think fucking in front of them is gonna happen?
We try a number of locations… hallways, foyer, laundry room, before finally settling in the bathroom. Things are finally moving along when the phone rings. The girl answers it. While we are fucking and proceeds to have a very long and loud argument about “Well, you should have thought of that BEFORE you slept with HER!”
At this point, I’m a bit freaked out… the weirdness of the situation leaking through the gallons of booze in my system and I stop thrusting. Her response to this is to cover the mouthpiece of the phone while hissing at me “Don’t you DARE stop, I’m about to come!”
I followed directions, glazed, stunned. She came, then yelled into the phone “FUCK YOU, I’ll be over in 30!” before slamming the phone down. She seemed baffled when I told her that, no… I did not want to “finish”, but hey, thanks anyway.
She got dressed and left to go “make up with her boyfriend”, leaving me to find a cab at 4am on New Year’s Day, in 20 degree weather, with $3 to my name and no idea how to get to my friend’s apartment.