well, what are you waiting for?
Hey baby, or something like that
Is what he said to me
As I walked by his table
Completely tasteless and tone deaf too
But I didn’t know it then
A classic sleaze-bag accompanied
By a decent looking chap
Perhaps a bit too decent
By my standards
But, who cares when
You’re on the prowl
Surrounded by oxford shirts
And distressed denim jeans
Just throw your head back
With a coy laugh
and flash a brilliant smile
On the whole
Both looked more than a little young
Had no idea what they
Were about to get themselves
Into - none at all
We had a few drinks
Danced with the sleazy one
While making eyes
At the decent one
Hopped into a cab -
The three of us, together
With the promise
Of a friend at the next bar
Gave Kara a call,
And Melissa too - this night
Was right for a good laugh
I was in the mood to really party it up
So the music was playing, and the bar was really swank - not a dance club by any means - sipping spirits on lush couches, getting drunker with my girls. And the two men I’d picked up (boys, really) were having quite a bit of fun. Kara was all over them, which was more than a bit odd for her, especially considering she wasn’t even drunk yet. In the interest of finding out the reason behind her flirting with these likely underage boys, we took a group trip to the bathroom.
The bathrooms were of modern design with tons of metal surfaces and frosted glass. We went in and stood looking at each other in the mirror, and Kara took out some lipstick.
“How old do you think they are?” Kara asked me, trying to be nonchalant, but utterly failing.
“Not old enough for you,” I said to the mirror.
“Or for you either,” she snapped back. “Besides, it’s not like I’m planning on doing anything with them. I was just wondering.”
“And what about Warren?”
“Hmmm?”
“Warren - your fiancé? You know, the guy you are supposed to be marrying in the fall.”
“Oh. Him. I honestly don’t think that one night out with some guy I met at a bar is going to do any harm. And besides, you are one to talk. You’ve had your share of one night stands.”
“But I’ve never cheated on a fiancé. And I’ve never knowingly slept with an underage boy, either.”
“Knowingly - that’s the key word. I don’t know that he’s underage, and neither do you. And I wouldn’t consider this cheating. I would prefer you refer to it as ‘stepping out’ or something.”
I looked at her incredulously, and I could feel the gossipy side of me coming to life. And then it dawned on me: this was bigger than mere dinner party gossip. It was an opportunity. Just how I would make this opportunity benefit me was the question. I could get back at her for all of the gossip she spread about me. I could ruin her social standing - her whole life. Or I could be supportive, be her friend, help her out. The moral question was swirling in my head, mixing with the effects of the alcohol - it was making me dizzy. Kara walked out of the bathroom, avoiding my eyes. I couldn’t make a decision in that bathroom - all the metal and glass was crazy intimidating. I stepped outside and lit a cigarette. It was amazing - the cigarette, I mean. Completely cut through the dizziness. Opened up a passage in my brain. I suddenly had a brilliant idea: I got out my cell phone. Scrolled to the Brit’s number. Pressed that squishy little green “talk” button. Told him excitedly about Kara and the boys, and then asked him to come pick her up and take her back to his apartment. I told him to make her a proper English breakfast - no, wait - a proper French breakfast.
It all seemed like such a good idea as I was standing outside that bar, smoking my first cigarette in weeks. Damn, that was a good cigarette. It cleared a single clean passage to think through - unfortunately, I haven’t been back to that part of my brain since that night, so I don’t quite understand the logic behind asking the Brit to sleep with Kara. But I’m sure there was some reason. I just wish I had known what the rest of the plan was when Kara called me up a few days ago, absolutely freaking out because she thought she was pregnant. I haven’t heard from her since. I should probably call her.
//KiLL
Is what he said to me
As I walked by his table
Completely tasteless and tone deaf too
But I didn’t know it then
A classic sleaze-bag accompanied
By a decent looking chap
Perhaps a bit too decent
By my standards
But, who cares when
You’re on the prowl
Surrounded by oxford shirts
And distressed denim jeans
Just throw your head back
With a coy laugh
and flash a brilliant smile
On the whole
Both looked more than a little young
Had no idea what they
Were about to get themselves
Into - none at all
We had a few drinks
Danced with the sleazy one
While making eyes
At the decent one
Hopped into a cab -
The three of us, together
With the promise
Of a friend at the next bar
Gave Kara a call,
And Melissa too - this night
Was right for a good laugh
I was in the mood to really party it up
So the music was playing, and the bar was really swank - not a dance club by any means - sipping spirits on lush couches, getting drunker with my girls. And the two men I’d picked up (boys, really) were having quite a bit of fun. Kara was all over them, which was more than a bit odd for her, especially considering she wasn’t even drunk yet. In the interest of finding out the reason behind her flirting with these likely underage boys, we took a group trip to the bathroom.
The bathrooms were of modern design with tons of metal surfaces and frosted glass. We went in and stood looking at each other in the mirror, and Kara took out some lipstick.
“How old do you think they are?” Kara asked me, trying to be nonchalant, but utterly failing.
“Not old enough for you,” I said to the mirror.
“Or for you either,” she snapped back. “Besides, it’s not like I’m planning on doing anything with them. I was just wondering.”
“And what about Warren?”
“Hmmm?”
“Warren - your fiancé? You know, the guy you are supposed to be marrying in the fall.”
“Oh. Him. I honestly don’t think that one night out with some guy I met at a bar is going to do any harm. And besides, you are one to talk. You’ve had your share of one night stands.”
“But I’ve never cheated on a fiancé. And I’ve never knowingly slept with an underage boy, either.”
“Knowingly - that’s the key word. I don’t know that he’s underage, and neither do you. And I wouldn’t consider this cheating. I would prefer you refer to it as ‘stepping out’ or something.”
I looked at her incredulously, and I could feel the gossipy side of me coming to life. And then it dawned on me: this was bigger than mere dinner party gossip. It was an opportunity. Just how I would make this opportunity benefit me was the question. I could get back at her for all of the gossip she spread about me. I could ruin her social standing - her whole life. Or I could be supportive, be her friend, help her out. The moral question was swirling in my head, mixing with the effects of the alcohol - it was making me dizzy. Kara walked out of the bathroom, avoiding my eyes. I couldn’t make a decision in that bathroom - all the metal and glass was crazy intimidating. I stepped outside and lit a cigarette. It was amazing - the cigarette, I mean. Completely cut through the dizziness. Opened up a passage in my brain. I suddenly had a brilliant idea: I got out my cell phone. Scrolled to the Brit’s number. Pressed that squishy little green “talk” button. Told him excitedly about Kara and the boys, and then asked him to come pick her up and take her back to his apartment. I told him to make her a proper English breakfast - no, wait - a proper French breakfast.
It all seemed like such a good idea as I was standing outside that bar, smoking my first cigarette in weeks. Damn, that was a good cigarette. It cleared a single clean passage to think through - unfortunately, I haven’t been back to that part of my brain since that night, so I don’t quite understand the logic behind asking the Brit to sleep with Kara. But I’m sure there was some reason. I just wish I had known what the rest of the plan was when Kara called me up a few days ago, absolutely freaking out because she thought she was pregnant. I haven’t heard from her since. I should probably call her.
//KiLL