When you were young
With all the spare time I've got now that I'm not fucking, I've decided to make a serious effort to spend more time with my friends. For better or for worse, a lot of my friends are starting to settle down--moving in with their significant others, getting engaged, and even popping out offspring. It scares the bejesus out of me because I feel less prepared for any of those things now then I did when I was 18, but at least it's an excuse for lots and lots of parties.
Case in point, my friend's bachelorette party last night. This particular friend is, without question, one of the funniest people I know. However, she is not known for lasciviousness, which is probably why she's getting married at 24. Like her wedding plans, her bachelorette party plans were simple and understated. The group met for dinner, then for a few drinks. She was adamant about not wearing a veil or any kind of bride-to-be button, though she was a sport and posed with a light-up penis pacifier. With this group of friends, I always have a great time. We laughed about the utterly ridiculous notion that one of us is about to get married, and constantly joked about rumbling with the three other bridal parties at the bar.
While the bride-to-be is not of the naughty variety, two girls in our group most certainly are (aside from me). Every time we go out, a swarm of men gathers around them. Probably because they're so darn tall. Early on, I spotted one of these friends chatting up this really cute guy. By the look of him, I could tell that he wasn't her type--sleeves of tattoos aren't really her thing. I wonder who might like such a thing? Perhaps someone who has "sleep with someone with tattoo sleeves" on their list of things to do before they die?!? Perhaps someone like me! I had to intervene. Oh my, was I sorry that I did.
Tattoo boy was pretty, but in a tragic way. Obviously he's been so pretty all his life that he has no need to develop even basic conversational skills. His second question to me was "Do you believe in werewolves?" Umm, no, but I believe I'll stop talking to you. So I turn to his friend, whom I'll call Blue Shirt. Decent guy actually, though clearly a poor judge of character. We chatted for a bit, but when I returned from getting a drink, I stumbled back into a conversation I could have missed. The beefier of the boys asked me what I thought of his friend (Blue Shirt), and I said something boring and non-committal like I always do. For whatever reason, Beefie then asked me if I thought his friend was an F-word. This was about the end of my desire to talk to any of them. I support swearing, a lot. But if you're a straight person, don't use that word. It's not for you.
Then the part that really pissed me off. Blue Shirt is wowing me with some cheesy magic trick that even drunk girls surely don't fall for. Being the snarky cunt that I am, I tell him that I'm so impressed, I'm definitely going to sleep with him now. He finds this cute enough to crack a smile, probably because he actually thinks he's got a shot. Tattoo Boy is having none of it though. "You're boring," he snaps at me. "We've got to bounce."
Tattoo Boy and his sidekick, Beefie, drag Blue Shirt from his stool and waltz him out of the bar. Shortly there after, our party "bounced" down the street before I made an ill-advised trip on the Metro and woke up in Forest Glen at 2 am. On my honor, I promise not to think of Blue Shirt as a missed opportunity for fucking and rather allow Tattoo Boy to serve as a reminder why I'm giving this all up.
Case in point, my friend's bachelorette party last night. This particular friend is, without question, one of the funniest people I know. However, she is not known for lasciviousness, which is probably why she's getting married at 24. Like her wedding plans, her bachelorette party plans were simple and understated. The group met for dinner, then for a few drinks. She was adamant about not wearing a veil or any kind of bride-to-be button, though she was a sport and posed with a light-up penis pacifier. With this group of friends, I always have a great time. We laughed about the utterly ridiculous notion that one of us is about to get married, and constantly joked about rumbling with the three other bridal parties at the bar.
While the bride-to-be is not of the naughty variety, two girls in our group most certainly are (aside from me). Every time we go out, a swarm of men gathers around them. Probably because they're so darn tall. Early on, I spotted one of these friends chatting up this really cute guy. By the look of him, I could tell that he wasn't her type--sleeves of tattoos aren't really her thing. I wonder who might like such a thing? Perhaps someone who has "sleep with someone with tattoo sleeves" on their list of things to do before they die?!? Perhaps someone like me! I had to intervene. Oh my, was I sorry that I did.
Tattoo boy was pretty, but in a tragic way. Obviously he's been so pretty all his life that he has no need to develop even basic conversational skills. His second question to me was "Do you believe in werewolves?" Umm, no, but I believe I'll stop talking to you. So I turn to his friend, whom I'll call Blue Shirt. Decent guy actually, though clearly a poor judge of character. We chatted for a bit, but when I returned from getting a drink, I stumbled back into a conversation I could have missed. The beefier of the boys asked me what I thought of his friend (Blue Shirt), and I said something boring and non-committal like I always do. For whatever reason, Beefie then asked me if I thought his friend was an F-word. This was about the end of my desire to talk to any of them. I support swearing, a lot. But if you're a straight person, don't use that word. It's not for you.
Then the part that really pissed me off. Blue Shirt is wowing me with some cheesy magic trick that even drunk girls surely don't fall for. Being the snarky cunt that I am, I tell him that I'm so impressed, I'm definitely going to sleep with him now. He finds this cute enough to crack a smile, probably because he actually thinks he's got a shot. Tattoo Boy is having none of it though. "You're boring," he snaps at me. "We've got to bounce."
Tattoo Boy and his sidekick, Beefie, drag Blue Shirt from his stool and waltz him out of the bar. Shortly there after, our party "bounced" down the street before I made an ill-advised trip on the Metro and woke up in Forest Glen at 2 am. On my honor, I promise not to think of Blue Shirt as a missed opportunity for fucking and rather allow Tattoo Boy to serve as a reminder why I'm giving this all up.
posted by The Husskateer at 7:56 AM
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