Have you ever found yourself at an incoherent intersection of being slightly drunk, mildly horny, and face-to-face with your ex talking about why she’s sitting on your bed after nearly 2 years of radio silence?
I’m assuming you have. So it’ll make total sense how I attempted to woo her by saying that “we are all going to die one day so we might as well have sex.” And it’ll probably make even more sense how that one line somehow got the lights off, as well as my pants, my underwear, and somehow managed to generate a warm load of splooge that splashed fantastically over the belly of this poor, poor recipient of my pathetic sarcasm.
Okay maybe that doesn’t make too much sense to the “lay person”, but fuck. Some people have to make a living off of notoriously and repeatedly saying the wrong thing to girls.
Let me back up. I’ve been with this girl many times before. In fact, my sophomore year we consistently hooked up for about three months. That is, until my emotional ambivalence caught up with the situation. Sure we came home drunk from bars, had sex, chatted, joked, and hung out a little at the library. Nothing my 19-year-old-brain-at-the-time self couldn’t handle. I mean, couldn’t handle until she brought up the most terrifying 3-worded question ever known to boy-kind. “What are we?”
I imploded so fast I nearly shit myself a new ball sack. I started stuttering and convulsing; meanwhile she’s just looking at me while my brain turned into mush and autopilot took over. All I could muster was “not boyfriend and girlfriend” and the rest was history. Admittedly, that wasn’t my best moment, and I wholeheartedly regret being so obtuse. It was that movement that sparked said 2 years of radio silence.
Fast forward past 2 years of awkward and immature social encounters, and I find myself mildly drunk, slightly horny, and face-to-face with my ex at a bar. (So close to bed, I know). Meanwhile we are shooting the shit; body language acknowledged that was a complete and utter cock to her in the past. But let’s face it, the sexual tension was there. Nothing makes me more horny than seeing a girl I’ve been with many (many) times outside of the bedroom. I mean, come on. How can you not get horny just looking at a long lost sexual lover flashing back to the many times you’ve eloped? I digress. Anyways, she made eye contact with me and brushed my shoulder with her hand. So I had the feeling she was at least okay with me flirting with her.
Mini-aside: this is not the first time I’ve talked to her this year, we’ve been cordial, but never to the point of full on… conversation.
Okay we are back at it and I offer her a drink, she says yes and I walk to the bar. I turn, and she’s gone. “Fuck!” I thought. Then I thought “probably for the better” and I shrug it off. I’m with my friends, dick half hard and looking to recoup my loses. Too bad, it seemed. This girl was gone and my social energy has dwindled down drastically. I’m about 10 minutes from a lonesome masturbation session with Jack Johnson’ “Banana Pancakes” playing softly through my bluetooth headphones while primal screams of double-penetration gently find their way to me.
As we move to the next bar, we quickly realize its long line isn’t going to be worth the wait. Jack Johnson was sounding nice until I see this girl, no – the – girl, waiting with her friends in front of this new bar.
Bingo. I make my move in the bar line, I start up some conversation, and within 2 minutes all her friends are long gone and my dick is long as well. All I had to do was say the right thing and this. Could. Be. It. So we chat, until she complains how she has to piss “so fucking bad.” Okay, well it’s simple logic. She has to pee, I have an apartment, I’m sexually aroused and emotionally confused. I know what I have to say.
“Do you want to go back and use a bathroom?” (aka do you want to come over and pee in my bathroom). Jesus fucking fuck christ. Have you ever heard of anyone wheeling a girl back to their place by offering her your pisser? I mean I must take credit for one of the most grotesque achievement of horny males. So she looks at me like I’m a psycho-killer-rapist-idiot, and next thing you know we are walking towards my apartment to use my god damn bathroom.
Funny side note: To clarify, it was never explicitly said that we were going back to use my bathroom. We live in the same building, me on floor 4 and her on 6. So when I offered the bathroom, it was implied we would simply walk back to the building. It wasn’t until we were in the elevator that I explicitly asked her to stop on my floor to use my bathroom. Of course I don’t have the social suave-ness to do this non-verbally, so I resorted to asking her with words. The best part was my good buddy was also in the elevator with me and personally witnessed me allowing this girl to be in my bathroom. Fuck. Yes.
Okay, long story short, I’m not that opaque when it comes to being with a girl 1-1 in my room (of course, I let her relieve herself) Yet I was not ready for the objectivity of this exchange. And boy did I open a can of worms. Basically, 2 years of pent of jabs and sarcastic remarks sputtered out of her mouth…all covered by the sexual tension she was exuding. So it was pretty funny and fucking weird. So I played my part until I couldn’t bullshit any longer. And I did whatever any sane person would do and asked to kiss her. After some fuss, she finally conceded and the grab-bag of emotions focused solely on us being together, alone, for the first time in two years. It was nice.
Before I could lean in, she looks at me dead in the eyes and firmly states “Okay, fine. But please please turn off the lights, this is so fucking weird.”
I complied with the outstanding humility of someone who couldn’t believe how in the hell he pulled this off. We fucked into oblivion.