Jessica was/is gay. I knew this at the time of this story but something in the egotistical mind of my early 20-something self told me that it didn’t make a difference and that if given the chance I could convince her to “switch teams” and become interested in me. I don’t know where this confidence came from as I had been the victim of a long drought without even straight girls being interested in me, but that didn’t deter me at all. I found Jessica to be very cute and was pretty sure that even though I had a penis, she found me rather beguiling as well. The following is the story about how I quickly found out that no matter how sweet and charming you try to be, sometimes things just don’t work out like you planned.
Not at all.
Back in the early 2000’s I worked at a Payroll company where 95% of the employees were miserable. Really, really miserable. As a result, we often blew off some steam after work on Friday evenings at a variety of bars in close proximity to our office. We mostly met at Casa Gallardo, but were not opposed to trying out other bars in the area as well. Sometimes, though, we would venture out far away and devote an entire evening away from the office that involved lots of drinking, complaining, and more drinking. One of these nights was coming up soon and, given the fact that I worked with Jessica, I encouraged her to join us out for an evening of debauchery.
I don’t think that I would be out of line to say that at that point in time Jessica was in an unhealthy relationship. She always seemed sad or upset because her controlling girlfriend was yelling at her or angry at her for some pointless reason. I’m pretty sure that she liked starting fights just for the sake of fighting. Because Jessica was young though, I think she stayed in the relationship because she didn’t know any better. Luckily for her though, she had a knight in shining armor named Scott to talk to her during these difficult times and provide a shoulder for her to cry on. Yes, it was all designed to position myself as a viable dating alternative, but I truly did care about her feelings and didn’t like seeing her, or anyone for that matter, unhappy in a relationship.
Thankfully, Jessica agreed to go and I set my plan in motion to get her to like me. First, alcohol would have to be involved. I wasn’t going to purposely get her loaded and then take advantage of her, but I knew that if she were to “experiment” with a dude, that she would have to at least have a few drinks in her to make it sound like a good idea. Second, I was going to need some time alone with her without any of our coworkers nearby. The only way I thought that we could accomplish this was to offer to drive her around that night. Sure, I was setting myself up for a long night out and a guaranteed intoxicated drive from Missouri to Illinois, but this was the only way that I saw that we could get some alone time.
Again, I was not planning on mauling her, but if I was even going to get a little kiss I didn’t think she’d be comfortable doing it in front of coworkers. She seemed pretty shy and I didn’t want to make her uncomfortable in any way.
Boy was I wrong.
The names and orders of the bars that we went to that night escape me, but I do know that the night started off pretty well. I was driving Jessica around and we were having nice conversations which centered mostly around which girls that worked in our office we would sleep with (hey – common ground. Gotta start somewhere). We agreed on some and disagreed on others but for the most part our list was the same. We had been drinking and having a good time and had switched from one bar to the next without incident. I felt like I was playing it cool while still letting her know that I might be interested if she was. I was definitely getting a vibe and I was pretty sure that even if it didn’t work out tonight, I could eventually convince her that I was worth taking a chance on.
Unfortunately for me and my plans and previously unbeknownst to me, Jessica could drink like a fish. I had noticed at the first two bars that she was throwing back the mixed drinks with gusto, but I thought that maybe she was just loosening up and would slow down after she caught a decent buzz. At the same time, I was also blinded by my goal of getting her to like me so pretty much anything she was doing seemed okay in my book. The blinders were on and I had my eyes on the prize.
It was with that mindset and a major beer and shot induced buzz that I drove us to the 3rd and ultimately final bar of the evening. We had made the journey from West County in St Louis all the way along highway 270 and down interstate 55 into Jefferson County to a little bar called Mr. T’s. Even though I had no idea where we were going and I was lucky just to find the place, Jessica and I ended up being the first ones there. Being a little gun-shy about entering a Jeffco bar without proper backup, we decided to stay in the car for awhile and wait for everyone else to get there. Obviously this was my suggestion as a) I was legitimately scared shitless to go into that bar without some backup, and b) this was a prime opportunity to break out my “A Game” and see what would happen.
As any female out there who has experienced my “A Game” before can tell you, it is a thing of beauty. It usually starts with a little music that I have previously picked out and put on a CD (I’ve since moved to an iPod), a little conversation about how beautiful they are, and a statement about how stupid their former boyfriend was to let them go. I then make some heavy eye contact with my baby blues and let nature take its course. Granted, I had tried this move many a times in my years of bachelorhood and it had yet to work and as of today still hasn’t, but I had a feeling that that night was going to be the one. It had to be. I mean, I had Bob Seger’s “We’ve Got Tonight” playing in the background. What could be more romantic?
Apparently, I must have had something in my teeth or an eye booger or something like that because after I had laid my game out there for her, she had an intense urge to release all of the alcohol that she had been imbibing all night and it had to come out now. No, she didn’t throw up on me, but the urge to pee overtook her and we decided that we were going to go into the bar so that she could use the bathroom. Sure, my game had failed, but we still had more fun to have and a long ride back home to Chesterfield. I was not going to give up for anything.
That “not giving up for anything” determination lasted for about ten more minutes. After Jessica peed and we ordered more drinks a transformation seemed to come over her. It was almost scary. In the span of about 3 seconds (and a huge drink of her Jack and coke) she went from “let’s have a few drinks and some good conversation” to “I am unbelievably hammered and want to maul any female coworker in the vicinity.” I witnessed Jessica’s transformation and, after coming to the realization that my efforts that night were a complete and utter failure, I immediately went through a transformation of my own. I went from “let’s see what I can do to get this girl naked” to “how on earth am I going to get this girl out of the bar, into my car, and back to her house?”
Normally, I would have sat back and enjoyed the hilarity that was playing itself out in front of me, but this got uncomfortable pretty quickly. Based on our previous conversation about which girls in our office that we would sleep with, I knew that at least 3 of the people on her list were hanging out with us that night. And even if I hadn’t been privy to that information previously, I would have been able to figure it out pretty quickly based on her actions the rest of the night. Sweet, cute Jessica had been swallowed by the liquor that she was consuming and randy, unafraid Jessica had taken over her body. This new Jessica decided that she was going to start flirting with and touching some of these women whether they wanted her to or not – and all of them did not.
As a result, my new found “hero” mentality kicked in and I decided that it would be best if we left the bar immediately. It took some convincing on my part, but after I conveyed to her that it was getting late and I still had to drive her from Jefferson County all the way out to Chesterfield and then back again to Illinois, she agreed to hang on me and let me drag her out to my waiting car.
This is where the story gets interesting.
The short amount of time that it took for Jessica to turn from slightly buzzed to frighteningly drunk was about the same amount of time that it took her to pass out after sitting down in my car. Being a seasoned drinker, I was familiar with the state she was in and even more familiar with the vomiting that I was assuming would quickly follow. Before she was totally passed out I gave her a shake and, after making sure that she was listening to me and understanding what I was saying, instructed her that if and when she needed to vomit, she should let me know immediately so that I could pull over. I even showed her where the handle was to roll down the window in case I couldn’t pull over in time. She listened to my instructions, mumbled something that sounded like “garbunkason,” and proceeded to pass out.
Given the choice between a rambling drunk and a passed out drunk, I will usually take the passed out drunk. Rambling drunks can be funny if you’re in a good mood and are equally as drunk or stone cold sober, but I was none of the three. My goal for the evening had been shot to hell, I had drank enough to tell that I had been drinking, but not enough to be drunk, and I had to a lot more driving to do to get both her and myself home (hence the limited drinking). Her being passed out was probably best for the both of us with the one exception being that I had no idea where this girl lived.
I should take that previous statement back. I had been to her house once before because she had to go home at lunch one day to pick something up. Being the guy-that-wanted-to-get-on-her that I was, I offered to drive her because I wanted to get out of the office for awhile and also spend some time with her. As a result, I knew the main exit off of the highway, but once off of the highway there were all these houses and they were all made out of ticky-tacky and they all looked just the same. That being said, I had no idea which street was hers and even if I could find that, which house was hers.
So after a 45 minute drive from Mr. Ts to Chesterfield, I was driving around aimlessly trying to find Jessica’s house without waking her up for fear that she would vomit immediately all over my car. After trying this for about 20 minutes or so, I ended up by a warehouse with a big parking lot. I figured that it would be as good of a spot as any to wake Jessica up and see if she recognized where we were and give me directions to her house so I pulled in, put the car in park, and attempted to wake her up. Much to my chagrin, I quickly found out that Jessica is a very heavy sleeper and awakening her from an alcohol induced slumber was going to be quite a chore.
After countless times of me saying “Jessica” progressively louder and louder, I decided that I would need to shake her arm a little to wake her up. Even after doing that, however, she was barely responsive and unintelligible when she spoke. I was beginning to wonder what to do next when I saw a pair of headlights drive past the opening to the dimly lit warehouse parking lot. It was at that exact moment that I realized my situation: I was parked in a dimly lit parking lot well off of the main road with a girl passed out cold in my car, and I had been drinking. Figuring that if those headlights had been from a cop car and they had decided to come and pay me visit that I would probably have gone to jail for at least the weekend, I decided that I’d better hightail it out of there as soon as possible. I put the car back in drive, put my pants back on (KIDDING!!!), and got out of that parking lot immediately. I still had the problem of not knowing where Jessica lived, but I at least felt certain of the fact that I wouldn’t be going to jail on an attempted sexual assault charge.
I decided in all my infinite wisdom that the best way to wake Jessica up was to freeze her out. It wasn’t exactly cold outside, but it was definitely getting a bit brisk as the night went on. Taking full advantage of that, I rolled down my window, reached across her to roll hers down, and turned the AC on full blast. My car quickly became a bit of an ice box but, as planned, Jessica woke from her slumber and began to gain some of her wits about her. She tried rolling up her window but I told her that she wasn’t going to touch that #*%$#$ window until she could stay awake long enough to get me to her @#I&&*$ house. Eventually, she realized where we were and was able to guide me to her home where I dropped her off.
If only that was the end of the story.
Remember that mean girlfriend that Jessica had that liked to start fights just for the sake of starting fights? Well, apparently she’s also very jealous and protective. And, given the scene that laid itself out before her eyes, I can’t really say that I blamed her.
As I pulled up to Jessica’s house I knew that she was not going to be able to make it inside by herself. So, being the gentleman that I am I went around to her side of the car and helped her to her feet before she basically draped herself on me to carry her to the door. A few steps into our “walk” she started kissing me on the cheek and whispering to me what a great guy I am and how thankful she was that I got her home safely. At the exact moment that Jessica’s lips were leaving my cheeks and moving towards my ear for the thank you, however, I heard the sound of a screen door opening and a voice say “What the fuck is this?”
Now, I’ve mentioned that Jessica is very pretty. I naturally assumed that since most pretty hetero girls dated/married good looking guys that pretty gay girls would date/marry good looking women. Before I even looked over to see who was yelling at me, I understood how the situation looked and, had I been the significant other of Jessica, would have been pissed also. I knew it was Jessica’s girlfriend and that I would have to do some explaining before all was understood. When I looked over, however, expecting to find an attractive, albeit pissed off girlfriend, what I saw amazed me.
Standing there about ten feet from me was a 5’2” Drew Carey lookalike in a wife-beater and basketball shorts smacking what appeared to be a billy-club from one hand to the other. She had the glasses, the short blonde spiky hair and everything. I was immediately taken aback because a) I had never met Drew Carey but was pretty sure he didn’t have fully developed breasts, and b) “Drew” was looking pretty pissed and I really didn’t want to know what it felt like to be smacked anywhere on my body with that billy-club. Additionally, I found myself getting pissed that not only was I being turned down for women (believe me, I get that one) but I was being turned down for this? That hurt.
This new revelation along with all of the other crap that had gone on over the course of the night pissed me off to no end. I basically looked She-Drew in the eyes, told her my name and that I worked with Jessica, told her she was butt-ass wasted and needed to go to bed, and that if she doesn’t put that billy-club down I was going to shove it so far up her ass that she’d be puking it out the next morning. Okay, so I really didn’t say that last part, but I gave her a very serious “mean” look that made my point very clear. Okay, so I didn’t even give her a mean look but instead told her to get Jessica a bucket to put by her bed because she was going to puke that night. I’m such a wuss.
After that, I pretty much got in my car and started out for the long drive home. I was completely sobered by the entire experience and drove home with nothing but the radio, some cigarettes, and my thoughts. I ran down the entire night over and over in my head and tried to figure out exactly when it all went to hell. Was it the alcohol? Was it my “A Game?” Was it the fact that I even tried to convince a lesbian to start liking men? The only thing I could come up with is that all women, regardless of sexual preference, are bat shit crazy. And that, my friends, is a fact.
Thanks for reading.
awesome!
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