Adventures in Texting - The Super Fail Drunk Edition

So we haven’t done an “Adventures in Texting” post in a good long while. I saved a bunch of random “shorts” from my drunken weekend for your reading pleasure. Let me preface this with the following:  (A) I don’t know any of these guys’ last names. (B) I have no idea how I have most of their numbers or they mine, truthfully and (C) I’m an idiot. By no means should anyone ever follow my example here. (All have nicknames…as you might expect.)

Stoney (4:25AM): I’m in bed with my girlfriend (this would be Rita) right now but I really wish your dick was pressed against my back.

New York (9:47AM): Dammit, wish I coulda been there

Stoney (9:49AM-Yea, how the fuck am I up in 5 hours after being shitfaced drunk): Me too!!! Clearly. I was just about to send you an apology for that text. Pretty direct, huh? Now you know exactly was I was thinking at 4:30 this morning. How lucky for you.

I haven’t slept with New York…yet. But I am pretty sure that I should.

Guy #2 I met while he was holding 3 huge slices of pizza on the street.  I kissed him in the alley after eating a bite of his pizza and gave him my number.  I had just walked away when…

Chubs (3:47AM): Hey there I know it’s been a long time since we hung out, but it would be a good time to hang out after you hang out with your friend. You down?

Stoney (3:49AM): Um? Who is this?

Chubs (3:49AM): My gay friends are giving you props for the heels you are wearing.

Chubs (3:50AM): This is X. I guess we made out just a little.

Stoney  (3:50AM): Oh yeah! They are hot! My heels that is!

Chubs (3:52AM): Yeah I know those heels are hot. But what would they look like without all the other accessories.

Chubs (3:54AM): Anyway I don’t want t

Chubs (3:54AM): T

Chubs (3:54AM): Oops sorry about that

Stoney (3:54AM): Curling up with my girlfriend. (Still Rita – same night) We are trashed.

Chubs (3:56AM): That’s awesome. I can come hang out if you would like?

Chubs (3:58AM): Our you scaling that mountain?

Chubs (4:12AM): Alright it looks like you may have your hands full but if you are wanting a little something extra text me. By the way I’m great with my hands.

Stoney (4:14AM): No. Just passing out. Not into girls

Chubs (4:15AM): Well that’s co

Chubs (4:16AM): Cool

Chubs (4:16AM): You wanna hang out I got some 420?

Stoney (4:32AM): You think my boots are hot…you should see my boobs!!!

My alter ego is such a bitch. She hands my number out all over town when I am drunk and it results in stupid shit like this.  I wonder what went through my head at 4:30 that made me think it was a good idea to mention how fabulous my tits are to a complete stranger.  A complete stranger I made out with briefly in an alley.

This last guy had grabbed me on a dance floor the weekend prior and tried to suck my face off and then come over to my house.  Unfortunately, I had had houseguests that evening so I could not fulfill that request - as much as I wanted to!.  I recognized him from Rita and my gym after he peeled himself off of me the first time.  He managed to get my number and call me so that I had his number that night, but we really hadn’t spoken much since with the exception of a formal albeit brief introduction at the gym a few days later. 

Stoney (4:16AM): Why aren’t you inside me right now?

Stoney (6:07PM): Geez. I am so sorry for my text at 4am. I clearly repeated my regretful alcohol consumption pattern from last weekend. Sorry again.

I can only hope that one of Hot Gym Guy’s friends threw his phone in the ocean prior to 4:16AM that morning and he didn’t get either of these texts.

Keepin’ it classy.

-the Fox

The Ambassadors, Part Deux

So where were we? Oh yes.  Rita is rounding 3^rd on the dance floor with the Big Tan Guy and Married Guy B is rubbing his big ol’ dick against me. (Meanwhile, I’m thinking Quit teasing me with that thing, ya ass! I can’t do shit with it and your married self!).  I decide it’s time for some fresh air and I make my escape to the back balcony of the club where I see a young ‘couple’ groping the hell out of one another in a full on high-school-dance-style make out session.  To my left stands a thin, cute man-boy smoking a cigarette and watching the pawing session out of the corner of his eye.  I decide to throw him a bone.  “Hi there. What are you doing?” He responds, “Watching my brother make out with that midget!”  I like this guy already.  He clearly resents his brother for finding some strange while he stands aside and waits to escort them both back to their mutual apartment.  We chat for a bit, I give him the full beer someone had bought for me that I didn’t want.  Then these Barbie-dolls come walking out of the bar and ask me for a smoke.  I oblige and smile. The blonde one looks at me and tells me that I am beautiful.  Wow, thanks drunk Barbie…very sweet. “No seriously, you’re like Aphrodite.” (Barbie giggles).  So the Barbies smoke and leave me and my young man-boy pal standing and chatting. He decides they are right and starts calling me Aphrodite. (Yeah. That happened.) 

Stoney: Well, it was nice talking to you.  Good luck with your brother and his tiny friend there.

Man-Boy: Wait! What?  I need your number!

Stoney: Ok?

Man-boy: (fumbling with his phone) Shit! My phone is dead.  How am I supposed to get your number now?

Stoney: Um, how about this… (I hand him a piece of paper with my number on it).

He thinks I’m brilliant.  Which, although, I am; I also was alive before cell phones were commonplace, unlike my damn near pre-pubescent new friend here.

We part ways and I rejoin Rita and the married folk on the dance floor.  The night has been thoroughly beaten to a bloody pulp and we all head out of the bar stumbling the entire way.  The two men left standing are The Big Tan Guy and Married Guy B (giant cock man).  Rita and I begin to cross the street to grab a cab and she smacks me on the shoulder whining “I want that guy to come home with me!” “The Big Tan one, really?  So then go back across the street and make it happen…” And off she goes.  I wait until she gets all the way across the street to him and then I scream “Don’t go out in the rain without a rain coat!” It’s not raining. Just sayin’.

Oh Stoney, you’re pure class.  But at least you weren’t a cock block for me that night.  Big Tan Guy swoops me into a cab with his married friend and we proceed to drive way out of our way to dump him off at their hotel, then get turned around and head to my place.  Tons of making out in the cab ensues.  I straddle Big Tan Guy and educate him on the fact that I wasn’t wearing any panties all night.  That’s always a priceless facial expression.

We FINALLY get into my house and shut the door.  I take off my sundress in one fell swoop, instantly naked, having been sans bra and aforementioned panties all night.  I bend over to take off my cowboy boots and he grabs my shoulders.  “Leave those on.”  Here’s the beauty of a big tall guy – he then picks me up and wraps my legs around his waist and carries me into my bedroom. That is quite possibly my favorite move of all time.

Big Tan Guy keeps me up until 6AM.  We sleep until about 10, and despite raging hangovers, managed to have crazy sex for another hour.  He finally has to leave, as he and Married Guy are headed to a large sporting event that day, and Married Guy clearly has no clue where his Big Tan friend is, as evidenced by the steady stream of texts and calls that he receives during our morning fun.  We each drink about a quart of water and get dressed.  Turns out, BTG is also a fan of athletic wear on women.  We almost don’t make it out of the bedroom once I put my yoga pants, sports bra, tank top and baseball hat on, but his phone is going off like crazy.  We walk out of my house and...where the FUCK is my car?  Stoney’s.  A cab is called and we finally arrive at Stoney’s.  At this point I think I might die if I don’t ingest coffee soon, so I jump out of the cab at Stoney’s, give the driver the name of Big Tan Guy’s hotel, smooch him and send him on his way, instead of driving him personally back to the hotel.  I’m thinking of asking Emily Post if that was appropriate post-coital behavior.  Thoughts?

Before the night was over, I had gotten a text message from the man-boy saying how happy he was to have gotten my number, how it made his week, and how beautiful I was, thus solidifying his nickname…The Darling.

The Darling proceeds to text me relentlessly for a couple of days. He is always very sweet and complimentary and insistent on seeing me again.  So we make plans to go out for a drink the following Friday, but he decides that he can’t wait that long. Accommodating bitch that I am, I invite him over on a random Tuesday at 10pm…this is so going to end well, right?

Let's Review, September

Some tips from Rita and Stoney that you should definitely remember from our most recent posts:

Trust your gut.  When you're texting with a guy, and the texts start getting further apart (especially by days), you are yesterday's news.  You can't force someone to be interested in you, and reader, they do not need a gentle reminder.  Start trolling again, and look for someone else.  He is.

Don't be a "C" girl unless he's your "C" guy.  You, dearest reader, are an "A" girl.  Do not forget that.  Write it on your mirror in lipstick.

You will drunk text people.  It happens.  But please read that little dialogue the next day when you are sober, let your (just guessing here, but market research indicates) NEEDINESS and SAD PATHETIC-NESS or VERY ANGRY RUDNESS sink in, in the cold light of day.  Learn from your drunk texting mistakes.  Try to move on or at least try to decrease your frequency.  Give your phone to your friend when you start to think that that guy you haven't heard from just might have lost your number and is just waiting for a witty, flirty text from you.  THROW YOUR PHONE IN THE OCEAN.

Big breasts should be your ticket to some special treatment.  Work what your mama gave you, or your dad bought you.  It's ok that men are motivated by breasts.  It's another one of those mysterious biological imperatives they have.  Use it against them - I mean fuck, they get to be President!

If you are looking for a Lover, prepare to look hard.  Men are not particularly zoned to have no strings attached sex for more than one night.  Be sure to pick someone who you have great sex with (duh) but who doesn't necessarily rock your world in other areas (like basic conversation skills or snuggling).  Then the chances that you get emotionally attached are much lower.  And trust me, I’m practically a guy (except with a vagina and a soul), but all chicks tend to get emotionally attached to people that we let into our vaginas. So if you're naturally attracted to nerds, pick a meathead from the gym.  And try to keep those texting fingers to once a week, or he's going to feel hounded.  So pick two meatheads and alternate.

-Rita

The Ambassadors, Part One

On a recent Friday, Stoney and I were posted up at a bar, listening to some live music.  This sounds fun in theory, but was actually incredibly boring.  The music was The Chris Robinson Brotherhood (jam band) and the audience attracted to said band was underemployed, vaguely fluffy, wannabe hippie posers.  I seem to recall someone around us wearing a golf shirt, but smelling like Patchouli.  There was a great deal of air guitar going on. 

As we sat and covertly made fun of the guys around us, I received a text from a married girlfriend of mine.  She was inquiring about where she should send her husband and his guy friends out on the town after a golf outing they were hosting on Saturday.  I replied with a couple of ideas, but then also asked why she didn't just encourage them to hook up with The Ambassadors of the Neighborhood, Stoney and I, and we could show them first hand.  An excellent idea, she agreed, and my number was forwarded to the leader of the pack, her friend we shall henceforth refer to as the Big Tan Guy.  

Stoney: There was chilled Patron in my face, so that’s pretty much all I remember from this evening.  That and my friends so eloquently saying, “Stoney is done. We can’t take her anywhere else but home.”  And that’s what they did... they deposited my shitfaced self on my doorstep at midnight on a Friday.

Saturday rolled around, and in the afternoon, I received a text from Big Tan Guy.  Being a smart girl, I correctly assumed the boys were on the golf course and were about half in the bag at that point.  We bantered about connecting later in the night and agreed on a place and time for them to meet and be entertained by The Ambassadors.  Stoney and I were glad to have a built in plan for male attention, and figured that if nothing else, we would have a fun night showing the guys around our city.  We're salespeople, this is what we do.  

Stoney: Yea, that’s not exactly how that happened.  I vaguely remember overhearing a phone conversation between Rita and someone else where she says “I have a single girlfriend too! We’d love to do that…” She hangs up and I look at her suspiciously and say “What the fuck did you just rope me into?”

So Stoney and I arrived at our favorite low-key bar and ordered a drink, and began our wait for the boys.  Aaaaaaand we waited, longer than we expected.  There was great texting about time and place and how to get there (with the exception of my friend's hubby, these guys were out of towners and she and the hubby live in the burbs).  We starting hoping out loud that these guys were super hot and fun, because there would not be much more waiting.  Finally, I see my friend's hubby's smiling face leading a pack of guys through the bar to us.  A pack!  We were thinking three…and as a result of golf, dinner, and who knows what else, they were hammered.  This was either going to be really good, or really bad.  

Stoney: So the pack consists of approximately 8-10 men (numbers are apparently kind of hazy at this point in the evening and completely irrelevant): only 2 of which are single! The Big Tan Guy is one of the single ones, and he is promptly sucked into the vortex that is Rita.  The other single guy is so sloshed he can hardly form a complete sentence. I resolve to the fact that this is just going to be a fun (but fruitless) evening for me.  This is where the next day Rita informs me that she looks over and I have the attention of the entire clan with the exception of The Big Tan Guy who is already rubbing on her thigh. I remember only one conversation during this time and, although it’s a slightly unfortunate one, it leads to further discussion amongst our girlfriends about pickup lines and rebuttals (to be addressed in a later post).  Married Guy A informs me that Married Guy B has a HUGE dick. Married Guy B nods modestly. What the fuck am I supposed to do with this information?  I respond, “I’m sure your wife is very appreciative.”  To which he says, “You are sooooo fucking unbelievably hot! Let’s go dancing. I have to dance with you!” And off we go, the entire troop of us, to a local dance club hot spot. 

This is the part of the story where you might think I’m a completely spoiled, rich little “daddy’s girl,” which is actually not the case at all. But I share this with you because I think my drunk self is pretty awesomely hilarious.

Rita and I walk up to the bouncer at the dance club who looks at me and says “It’s $5.”

Stoney (pointing at my boobs): [completely matter-of-factly] “My dad didn’t pay $7,000 for these for me to pay a cover.”

Bouncer: [Starts laughing]

Stoney (still pointing at my boobs): No seriously.  I’m trying to pay him back $5 at a time.

At this point, Married Guy B rolls his eyes and hands the bouncer $10. SEE!!! Like I said, my dad didn’t pay for a boob job for me to pay a cover!

We get to the club and with drinks in hand we all make our way to the dance floor.  Married Guy B is dancing all over me and taking every opportunity to rub what, in fact, DOES turn out to be a giant dick on me.  I look up and there’s Rita sucking massive face with the Big Tan Guy on the dance floor while “dancing” (apparently to the beat in her head cause it sure as shit wasn’t to the music being played).

Yes, yes I did start making out with a relative stranger on the very public dance floor of a bar that I frequent.  I have no excuse for this other than at that point my need to have a hot guy put his hands all over me was stronger than my need to maintain any sense of dignity.  Thanks, vodka.  And fuck, was he a good kisser.  Don’t you just love that, when you kiss someone for the first time and it just clicks?  I think I felt that first kiss in my vagina.  So the rest of the night, I pretty much smooched him and let him rub all over me as much as he wanted.  You would have done the same thing, Reader, I know this.  At various points in the evening, I would look over at Stoney, who had the full attention of the other 7 guys, to make sure she was cool.  But at one point, she disappeared, and apparently met someone on the balcony of the bar.

Stoney: Stay tuned for the introduction of The Darling. This is a really good story so you should probably be on the lookout for THAT upcoming post.  To be continued…