The Legend of One Night Stand

Why, why, why do I put myself out there like this?

I don’t know but this sordid tale needs to be told, not because it’s anything extraordinary, but quite the opposite actually. This one night stand was so stereotypical that it warrants an entire blog post. I would even go as far as saying that the event was something beyond the control of the two of us, it was entirely in the hands of the one night stand Gods who happened to bless us (or me at least) last Saturday night.

The tale begins like so many one night stand stories go: I was out of town and so was the individual in question. Her name was Kristen and she recently graduated from a prominent law school, which I think makes this story more interesting since I was clearly dealing with a woman of superior intellect. How she ended up with me is still a mystery but maybe rehashing this out will help jog the ol’ memory brain here.

I wish I had some awesome reason how we initially hooked up with each other, like I pulled off some incredibly poignant pick up line or I accidentally knocked over some textbooks out of her hands and our heads serendipitously bumped into each other as we bent down to pick them up, but it was simply a case of me ponying up to the bar and striking a conversation with the cute blonde and her friend next to me while the bartender poured me a round of double 7&7’s.

Note: My original attempts at spelling the word serendipity went so poorly, that my spell checker wouldn’t recognize what I was trying to do, so I was forced to search imdb.com for John Cusack because I knew he starred in that crappy rom-com with the same title. Sad, I know.

Normally, I start off conversations with chicks in bars with banter such as, “are you excited about the new Harry Potter?”, but like I said earlier, I had a muse with me that evening that allowed me to become uncharacteristically charming with just a hint of asshole in there for good measure. I had some really good wing-manning going on that night too.

For one, it sort of helped that my buddies and I were buying rounds for each other all night, which conveys a real positive image if you’re meeting someone new. If I was a chick talking to a dude who was just generously handed a drink by his friend mid-conversation without making a big production out of it, I would probably think to myself, “wow, this dude seems really non-threatening; I should give him my phone number later.” It’s the little things, as they say.

Secondly, a good wingman will set you up without even knowing it. In my case, my buddy jokingly commented to me that I should take it easy so we would be ready for a volleyball rematch we planned the next day, at which point, I nonchalantly told these girls that we were organizing a match tomorrow at the park and that they should come. BAM! – phone number. Who’s going to say no to that?
Okay, so now the drinks have been flowing, shots have been poured, laughs were had, and we were all getting to know each other fairly well. The meet and greet was over and now it was time for somebody to make a move. I inadvertently made the first move due to circumstances beyond my control.

You see I had been awake for the previous 22 hours or so and had a pretty grueling day up until that point. Everybody gets a little one-eyed as it gets closer to bar time but I was way past that point of exhaustion. I started getting a little two-eyed, which I think she interpreted as an eye gaze. Body language is funny. From one perspective, you have someone desperately squinting to keep their eyes open and from another perspective, you have someone longingly searching for someone’s soul.

Either way, I knew she was down after the eye gazing incident because about five minutes later she started leaning into me while talking and she casually touched my arm. Being conservative in nature, I gave her the benefit of the doubt that she was just being friendly, but again later, she casually touched by arm, as if to say, hey dummy, are you not getting this body language?

So I shot her this glace, a glace that summed it all up: yeah I get it and I too am down. Let’s plan on tastefully making out here in about a half hour.

“Bartender, another round of tequila over here!”

To be continued…

6/1/07

I know the difference between tasteful and non-tasteful bar make out jams because, admittedly, I’ve been on both sides of that equation at one time or another. You know it when you see it. That’s all I’d like to say on that subject, but for the record, last Friday was in the tasteful category.

So things were going really good between Kristen and I, but bar time was fast approaching and that whole “should I stay or should I go debate” started going back and forth in my head. Well I looked around and my friends were gone so that pretty much settled that question.

I knew how things were going to end up that evening, but I still had to go through that song and dance of feigning an interest in finding my friends and getting a ride a home with them. I know, I’m a total gentleman. I think the phone call was something close to this:

(ring ring ring)

Me: Dude, it’s me, I need a ride.
Buddy: Where are you?
Me: I’m walking towards the bar we were at earlier.
Buddy: Okay, I’ll be there in five minutes.
Me: Hey, dude.
Buddy: Yeah.
Me: Nevermind about the ride. I’m still with those chicks. See ya tomorrow.
Buddy: Oh man, you dog!...

(click)

There was a fair share of heavy petting going on during the taxi ride home. When we got back to Kristen’s friend’s apartment, we all had one more drink together before the friend left us alone. It was getting really late but that’s when the night first got interesting. We walked into the guest bedroom where things started to get

and I was like, "Stop biting me!" but she wouldn't

brings out a yo-yo, a nine iron, and a turkey sub so I

and THAT was the wildest night I ever had.

Obviously I’m taking a cue from Quentin Tarantino and Robert Rodriquez and having a little fun with you guys here. You didn’t actually think I’d delve into those kind of details, did you?

When I woke up the next morning, I systematically went through what could be easily described as the five stages of one night stand morning afterness: shock, the giggles, panic, acceptance, and finally, remorse.

The shock first comes when you first wake up and you feel that first pang of awkwardness:

“This isn’t my bed! Where the hell am I?”

This stage is immediately succeeded with a quick glance to the right or left of you followed by a small fit of the giggles:

“oh, yeah, that’s right.”

More often than not, this stage is also accompanied with a quick peak underneath the covers:

“hmmm, alright, nothin’ wrong with that.”

Once I had time to assess the situation, panic started to kick in:

“Dammit, how am going to get out of this? And where the hell are my boxers!?”

At this point I actually fell asleep again. When I woke up again, she was gone. Rather than wait around and force a painfully awkward conversation, I decided to grab my things and head on out. I don’t think there was anything wrong with this course of action, I’m sure she wanted to avoid that dialogue just as badly as I did. I call this acceptance. I guess shame would also be applicable here, but let’s not go there.

On the way out, I saw she was sitting on the couch, checking her e-mail on a laptop. I knew she was concerned about her law finals the night before and I know she mentioned the previous night that her grades were supposed to be posted at any moment.

“Are your grades posted yet?”

“Nope.”

“I’m sure they’ll turn out fine. Well, see ya later.”

Thank God I had sandals. I don’t know if I could have handled any more small talk than that while furiously trying to tie a shoe.

Anyways, it was such a relief to hear that door click shut behind me. It was now time to figure out a means of transportation back to where I was supposed to be staying at. I had money for a taxi but that would ruin all the fun of taking the walk of fame. Yeah, I’m sorry, when I said remorse as the fifth stage before, I actually meant pride.

I think I actually messed up my hair more than the bed head that I was sporting at the time when I walked out of the apartment. Then I took a few laps around the block, waving at the neighbors, sheepishly grinning like I just got caught with my hand in the cookie jar.

Okay, I’m kidding about that last part, too. I admit that there is a double standard though for you ladies when taking that walk home, which is unfortunate. If I were you, I’d hold my head high as I strolled back home in my high heels, short skirt, and messed up make-up, as the neighbors are mowing their lawns or getting their families ready for church on a beautiful sunny Sunday morning. That’s tough, I’m sorry about that.

To sum up, I don’t think there was anything morally decaying from which transpired last Saturday night. I had a really great time with Kristen and I think she did too. I didn’t tell any lies, I didn’t make any false promises, we weren’t so drunk that we didn’t know what was going on, and we were both smart about the whole thing. No harm, no foul. I’d even go as far as to say that if I knew there was some chance I’d ever see her again, I would have slowed things down a little and got to know her proper.

Well…that’s probably not true either. It is very ill advised to dishonor the whims of the One Night Stand Gods. If they grant you a muse to pull one off, you just gotta run with it.

What I think I really need is a sign from the Gods of steady girlfriend. Where the hell have they been lately?