14 May 2011

Tits & Teeth

My friend, Claire, recently told me of her most embarrassing moment while flirting with a guy. She was in a crowded club when she met an Armani clad dreamboat and deviated from her friends. They hid away in a booth and talked for close to an hour. She found herself checking-off item after item on her dream guy list. The last item was they had to be into her as much as she was into him. As she started to dream of her future with him, her friend, Tali, popped up behind the guy to give her a thumbs-up. However, her face faded from a cartoonish smile to a face of shock as she screamed, "Girl! Your titty is hanging out!!" And sure enough, when Claire glanced down, her right boob was exposed. Mortified, she started to apologize to her suitor. His response, "Don't worry about it, that's why I was talking to you for an hour."

She said the most insulting and horrible thing about the whole situation was not that her nip was to the wind. Her rationale: "For the amount of booze I'd had, I'm surprised it wasn't my vag." Instead, she said the most embarrassing aspect was that the guy admitted the only reason he was with her was because of it. She was embarrassed by the fact she would be into a guy like him. Whether or not she was projecting to mentally avoid a reason to be embarrassed is still to be determined. Yet, I had to admire her for not letting the obvious upset her, because I've been there. For me, there was no projecting.

I was at one of those last minute dinners with a group of my best gals. Trashy mexican to be exact. It was one of those dinners where you text one person asking if they want to grab something to eat. They in turn text-invite another friend, and another until you find yourself waiting for four tables to open-up so you can all smoosh them together and sit next to one another. After two rounds of pure grain tequila margaritas, my friend Leslie got a text from her friend Billy. They worked together at a restaurant a few blocks over. He was getting off of work and wanted to see if she wanted to meet up. She told him to come by for drink. As she announced this to the table, I saw the epiphany brighten her face. "OMG!" she cried, "You should date Billy! You guys would be perfect together!"

I've heard this many times before and it never pans out. The gay+gay= bliss equation only works in the suburbs, I'm afraid. If there's no lack of gays to be had, the chances of two gays automatically clicking never works out. However, when he walked in the door a few minutes later, I was stunned. He was tall, dark, and handsome. Casual and funny when he approached the table, and seemed genuinely excited to meet the sea of people. After he told everyone he wished he could stay, I found myself inviting him out with us. He said he would love to join, he was just going to go home to take a shower and change.

As he turned and left, chirpy Leslie stage-screamed, "OMG! He NEVER does that!" I asked, "What? Bathe?" She said, "No! Of course he does, but not before just going out to get casual drinks. He LIKES YOU!!" I was a little skeptical, but after another twenty minutes or so of her building it up, I actually started to think maybe he was into me.

We met up after dinner and started a mini bar crawl. On top of the margaritas, we had Saporros, martinis, shots, and red wine. How and why, I can't quite recall but 3 hours into the night, I was cashed. I had started the night as my perfectly poised self. Flirting but not overtly clingy. Witty but not too yucky. Hell, I would have been in love with me.

As the hours went on, we started to lessen in numbers. Booty texts went answered, the tired went to bed, and the hungry filled their bellies, until there was just four of us left--Me, Billy, Leslie, and Joan (my best ally). Leslie and Billy attempted to close-up shop and head home for the night, but I begged them to head to just one more bar under the guise that I would pay for their drinks. When we got to the bar (no less than Brother Jimmy's--woof), we huddled into the corner and began bobbing to the music and laughing. Billy was so cute and funny. We were getting closer and closer to the point where our chests were touching. As the song we were dancing to ended, Joan said "Let's go get some dranks!" In this split second, I leaned in to Billy, said, "I'll be right back, don't move," and for some indescribable reason went to nibble his neck. Instead of a nice nibble, I bit down. Hard. I heard a slight crunch and as I leaned back, I saw the appalled faces of both Billy and Leslie. "What the fuck?" wouldn't have done this moment justice.

Through drunken slurs, I expressed how mortified I was. "I have no idea why I just did that. I'm so so sorry!" I screamed. He said nothing. Joan grabbed my arm and started turning me toward the bar. "I can't believe I just did that," I said as we headed toward the bar. She tried her best to quell the situation by saying it was stupid and funny. Embarrassing, sure, but stupid and funny. Her rationale was we were all so drunk, I'm sure he already forgot it happened. We bought drinks and turned back to join our group. Me, still racked with guilt over what I had done. When we got back to our corner, Leslie was putting on her coat. Billy was nowhere to be found.

I asked her if he left because I acted like side character out of "Salem's Lot." She assured me he was just tired and totally wasted. He really shouldn't have even gone to the last two bars. I didn't believe her for a minute but decided it was best to just let it die. Joan and I polished off our PBRs and headed home. I was still shaken by my wackiness.

Over the course of the week, Leslie avoided my texts and attempts to hang out, clearly wishing to avoid the obvious prying for what Billy had said about me after he left. When I finally saw her, I demanded to know what he said, albeit however terrible. She said he did talk about me, however, she maintains that he said it wasn't because of the Hannibal Lector necking. But that (and I quote), "He's just not into gay guys who are really out there." Although this is gross, I almost accepted it. That is until about 3 months later when I was out for Leslie's birthday. Billy wasn't there, but another co-worker of their's was. We started talking and I mentioned that I had met Billy previously. I admitted to the co-worker that I had a bit of a crush on Billy, however it didn't go over too well because I was super drunk and acted totally stupid. After a brief pause, I saw another "Billy Epiphany Glow" spread across someone's face. Yet this one was followed by, "Wait, you're THAT Lean?? You totally chowed down on his neck!! He tells EVERYONE that story. That's so fucking embarrasing!"

I couldn't even defend myself, because, yes: it was really embarrassing.

Point of Conversation: Those legendary embarrassing stories? They happened to someone who knows someone you know. You're next.

- Lean

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