This type of stuff always happens to me. I’m not complaining one bit. It’s all in good fun but it is just amazing to me how everything centralizes on me. I guess I’m just asking for it. Whatever, it makes for good times.
I received a phone call today that made me think of that night. “That” night would go down as the quickest cleverest execution I would ever pull off. At my own cost…
Timmy Pot Poo and I go back years. When this story took place, we had been good friends for over 17 years. He and his wife had a house in the same addition as my parents so when I would come home from college every now and then I would go over and stay up with TPP and drink all night. Majority of the times, it would be the two of us and others here and there, but all and all, a pretty close circle. We would sit in TPPs garage, drink, talk funny stuff, talk man stuff, drink more, then when good and plowed, I would typically do something stupid with one of his sons’ toys. It was the kiddy car this night. I once again found myself squeezing into a Lil Tykes car (you know, the ones that are red with the yellow roof.) This was always humorous; it just so happened that this night TPP documented it via camcorder. As this part of the evening concluded, the interesting part was only about to begin…
TPP had this neighbor. She wasn’t your typical middle-aged mother. Hot, blonde, and a body milk couldn’t even do. As usual we had the garage door open, more less an invitation to people driving by that yes, we are up still, and yes, you may hang out. Neighbor came wandering over around bar time drunk and goofy (yay) with a young guy (boo) and a friend (yay) who had a face that rivaled the end of days (…). TPP and I continued on how funny we’ve been all night and told stories that they typically found hilarious. They thought I was awesome. I thought hot neighbors chest was awesome. Hot neighbors friend started showing how she thought I was awesome. TPP found this awesome. There was just too much awesome in this confined area for any given night.
Something was about to give.
A little after three in the morning, TPP was close to heading to bed, hot neighbor did the stereotypical yawn followed by a look she gave to young guy that I caught as she was saying “let’s say we go to bed and I make a man outta ya”. Ug-o looked at me. I looked for the hidden camera. [Note: ok guys, here is a little visual information that can help you in desperate times. After identifying how your drunken curve is situated you may begin to mathematically figure when you should call it a night. The level at which “bad news” progresses is an infinite constant. Here is an example of mine. Take note of my drunken curve. This drunken curve represents how I can drink for a long period of time without feeling a change, but when I do feel the change, the bottom completely falls out. When the intersect is established, this is the point where you would find it in your best interest to quit].
Ug-o had told me, to meet her between the houses because she had something to ask me. If sober, I would have figured this out. Unfortunately, I wasn’t.
On the side of the house she was dropping lines about “how attractive I was”, how I “turned her on” and asking me if I would “do her”. I held my ground rather well, even as she was trying to force her hand down my pants. I focused on diverting the conversations to other topics that would lower my chances of getting laid… Yeah I said it, quote me “I focused on diverting the conversations to other topics that would lower my chances of getting laid”. This began to work. The night was gonna finish with me on top…
But then the conversations never ended. Time passed quicker, I drank more, and as soon as I knew it, I was tired. Even though I live in the same neighborhood, I still lived 5 blocks away or so. 30 minute walk. At this time in the night 95% of guys would have done the same thing I did. “Can I just crash in your friend’s house?” I slurred. She laughed and said of course. Little did I realize that I had gone from follower to leader to prey. She led me into the house and back into a bedroom. The bedroom was obviously a little boy’s room. Action figures and other male children toys strewn about the room with a full size bed decked up in some superhero or something. I didn’t care. I lost my shirt, put all of my belongings into my hat, kicked off my shoes and collapsed on the bed. The following events are completely true down to the details.
Ug-o walks into the room not soon after I fell asleep. I was awakened to the tsunami wave she made the bed perform upon falling onto it. I was too tired to be pissed so I moved closer to the edge of the bed and passed back out. I was awoken again to her rolling me on my back and straddling me. “What are you doing? I’m trying to sleep!” “Fuck me right now boy!”
Oh… My… God… Officer I’d like to report a missing persons. Their names? Dignity and Self-respect.
“Get OFF of me!” I push her off of me. I’m panicking because… Well why wouldn’t I be!? I woke up to someone on me screaming for me to do them. Still gasping for air “What are you doing?”
Then my situation went from bad to catastrophic.
“IT’S BECAUSE I’M HEAVIER THAN OTHER GIRLS ISN’T IT!?”
“IT’S BECAUSE I’M OLDER ISN’T IT?
She began to hysterically sob. I assumed by me being nice to her would shut her up and I could return to dreamy dream land. I lie and tell her no, that’s not it and pat her on the back. Uh oh. I just made physical contact. Here we go. She shoves me on my back and in one fluid like (haha) move is on top of me with my arms under her knees. I’m pinned. But then Ug-o begins to transform. From “feel guilty for me” to “this is your fault”. She begins to gorilla punch me in the chest and scream nonsense at me. I could catch “love her” and an overabundance of “whys”. Now I’m in survival mode.
It is now almost
“OKAY OKAY! I’ll have sex with you! Stop!”
“Really? *sniffle* Good! You won’t forget this mother fucker!”
I tell her to go wash her face in the bathroom, clean up and come back in here. I have to think quickly.
[In college I learned something that is honestly so very true. NEVER HAVE SEX WITH AN EMOTIONAL DRUNK GIRL. That’s all. Why? Because when the girl wakes up embarrassed about her own drunken sluttish actions, she tends to cover it with “I was raped”. It happens on a weekly basis. It keeps her “good name” and tarnishes your reputation.]
Somewhere around hearing the bathroom door shut, and the water faucet turning on I ran. I ran oh so hard. I ran on instinct. Animal instincts. I tore through the unfamiliar house in pitch black with no flip flops, and all my possessions still in my hat as quiet as a ghost. I flew out of the garage door. Took one look over to TPPs house, decided sleeping on his front porch runs a risk of Ug-o finding me. I understand that Ug-o could have called the police in a move to cover her actions. I took one look north, a deep breath, and a full on sprint. I ran 5 blocks. Every time I thought I saw headlights, I dove into bushes. I ran what was around a mile in less than 10 minutes. Easy. That night I slept in the living room by the bay windows just in case I saw Ug-o searching for me like a lost dog.
2 months later I am at my familiar watering hole talking to all of my bar buddies and laughing it up. Hot neighbor walks in. I swallowed deep and approached her because it was easier to get it out of the way. While approaching her, she turned, took one look at me and almost had a seizure laughing. Before I could say anything she said “My friend thinks you’re cute”.
“Fuck your friend”…
