Friday, May 23, 2008

Not a Particularly Proud Moment



I have done a lot of things I have been very ashamed of in my life like shit myself while passed out drunk, turned away from whorehouses; have my wallet stolen by salacious girls but this may very well top them all.

I am not a particularly friendly person I like to drink any free moment regardless of consequences and I generally prefer drinking alone. The last of my old friends once told me, “your like an old man you sit alone in the corner and drink gin and never say a word to anyone.”

This is what happened on one of those evenings.

I am drinking destructively trying to empty out the Bombay Sapphire bottle that sits behind a bar on a little glass shelf taunting me all lit up and whore light. I’ll get you, you little minx. I believe I drank most of it but things got hazy. I do remember a women coming over and talking to me and she asked me who I was here with.

“I was supposed to meet my Dad but I guess he never showed up.”

I looked down and dashed the straw around through my drink.

“Well should you call him make sure everything is alright?”

“No, its sort of weird I have not seen my father since I was eight years old. The other day I was walking in the city and there he was and he begged me to talk for him for just a moment and I relented. He told me how bad he has felt abandoning me for all these years and that he did not know how to get in contact with me and he wanted to hire a detective to find out where I was but that he was not sure that I would speak to him and maybe now after all these years he thought maybe it would be best if he left me alone for my own sake but he always wondered.”

The woman was taking back. She really looked misty eyed and she put her hand on my shoulder and said she was so sorry. She bought a round and asked if I wanted company and I said in my best pathetic voice, “yeah that would be nice.” I must admit that was a great story and I actually thought that up before to use at an airport bar, which I did, but I will have to give you a rain check for that story.

She sits down and we start talking and her voice is a little weird like strained as if she smoked but I have heard that before in my own family so I let it go. We are draining drinks and she refused to let me pay for anything this is the first time this has ever happened to me so I was excited. When the tab came she paid it and excused herself and went to the ladies room. Jesus I am going out every night with this story I thought.

The women said I was obviously to drunk to drive and that I could come crash at her house besides she said she had more alcohol. We walked to her house in the gay district of Philadelphia and she poured us a couple of slow gin fizzes. We hung out and talked about shit no one ever remembers and then there was that awkward pause and we kissed. A girl who is willing to pay my bar tab and know make out with me I was contemplating marriage. Things got hot and heavy and the next thing I knew she was unzippering my zipper and going down on me. I had a lot to drink so I could barely get aroused she was down their for quite awhile.

Finally after some movement we decided to move into the bedroom. We’re fooling around and I lower my hand it feels weird down there but it was dark and I figured maybe she hadn’t shaved honestly I was not highly experienced in these situations. I grew up with Irish catholic girls who had stay at home mothers. The unspoken word was a girlfriend would sleep with you after you put in like a year. I could not hang around for a year so I lived on scraps like a raccoon. Then it happened one of those moments that no matter how drunk you are something happens that instantly returns you sober.

“Let me go into the bathroom and get my lube.”

“Yeah I thought it felt a little dry.”

“You know they can do wonders with operations nowadays but that is one thing they can not really figure out.”

She was up and in the bathroom with the light on shedding some light into the room. “What do you mean operation? Like cesarean or labiaplasty?”

“Ha ha very funny like you do not know.”

My mind was going a thousand miles an hour. “What the fuck are you talking about?” I jumped up and headed to the light in the bathroom and then I saw with a mixture of horror and doubt what I feared the most.

“Honey, you knew don’t act like that.”

I lost my mind. “You’re a fucking dude!”

“No I am a…”

“No you’re a faggot.”

I was in the bathroom now with a clenched fist. She jumped back and threw the lubrication on the sink and turned around very confidentially, “What you're gonna hit me?” I swear I am not making up excuses everything was still processing in my head and I was still piecing things together when a slippery fist slid off my nose and hit under my right eye. I fell back against the bathroom door.

“What tough guy what are you gonna due? You fag hag!”

I was now getting taunted as I tried zippering my pants up and picked up my sneakers to run out of the house. Outside on the sidewalk I could not believe what had happened. Blood was pouring out of my nose and I was stunned. I could not process where I was or anything I just started walking with my shoes in hand down Pine Street. After several blocks I sat down unable to think clearly. I wanted to cry I wanted to throw up but I could do neither.

Years later whenever people ask me why do I drink so much I contemplate to tell this story but then I stick with my standard line, “because Jesus died for our sins and I just can’t handle that.” Surprisingly this story never came up and I never told anyone and after all this time- after all these years I finally wrote it down and hope my children never read this.

I have absolved myself of all guilt however. I was very, very drunk. I did not go down on her/him although I do not know if it makes it any gayer or not. I was not fully hard which could be attributed to the booze in all fairness but I am going with it was because I am not gay. I was never told and honestly could not really tell in my condition it was dark everywhere we were. Shit, I would have probably suspected she was a vampire first. Hindsight is always 20/20 and of course I see some signs, the voice, the hands were a little big but not nearly as large as mine. I was taller than her/him by six inches so its not like we were the same body wise. She went home with me after about two hours that is fast even by one-night stands at least for me. Most importantly the thing that should have tipped me off the most was the balls (I’m kidding).

I now believe that modern science can be an evil despicable thing in the wrong hands.




Michael McCullough






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