The Solo SeXtion

Being completely hungover, to the point of puking three times today, I started thinking about hangover cures. I once dated a guy who was convinced that sex cured hangovers. Never the type to avoid disproving a theory, I was easily convinced, and even mentioned to him that he really didn’t need to make up an excuse to sleep with me. As I fondly recalled what a freak show that guy turned out to be (which took me almost 2 years to figure out), I suddenly remembered more from last night’s shenanigans…

Our topic predictably veered towards sex. My newly married friend amazed her husband with the well known legend of how she went 4 YEARS without getting laid. It wasn’t that she couldn’t get “it” (since we all know that any walking vagina can get something, if they’re really that desperate for bed creaking entertainment), being the constant overachiever, she just couldn’t find anyone worthy of ditching her vow of celibacy.

Somehow, the conversations lead to a close examination of MY sex life. Now, since these women know more about me than probably anyone on the face of the Earth (including, but not limited to the time I diverted making out with a really fat bouncer–who thought “Slap Shot” was a phenomenal film–by telling him that my roommate, despite her coyness really did have the hots for him), I had no problem divulging the gory details of my sexual exploits. I took a sip of my drink, thought a few seconds, counted out the months on my hand, and confirmed that it’s been ten f—–g months and offered that even that one probably shouldn’t count since I was only Old Shoein’ it with an ex. My only other single friend perked up, “Oh whatever. I’m going on two years.” Is that supposed to be some kind of consolation?! Jesus.

So this got me to thinking, being single isn’t really that bad most days, but being voluntarily sexless is, at times, pure torture.

Excuse me while I go and peruse the solo section at goodvibes.com.

Handle Me With Care

I started writing a blog entry last night.  Here’s what it was…

Titled, “Strange Night”…I just strokjlled in at 3:30, which is totaaslly out of the ordinasry. As I sit here, sucsking on my cigarette, totsally tanked from my “jolly rancher” shot, I’m thinking that it’s probabbly a gopod thing that I don’t make this kind of thing a habit.

I really have no idea what I was trying to write about last night and/or why, at 3:30AM, I suddenly found the night’s events strange. I do know that I woke up spread eagle in my bed, reeking of gin, and my throat feeling like I swallowed a scimitar.

This, kids, is why I’m no longer a bar hopping babe. And frankly, it amazes me that I used to do this on a weekly basis in my 20’s.

I will say that my best friend popping into town unannounced was a great surprise. The second I walked into the bar I was handed a Jack Daniels and ginger ale (my signature drink in college), put into a headlock, and reconfirmed why my friends are my friends.

We have an upcoming Bad Girls Weekend and by the time I consumed one JD, I was insisting that we not only allow my friend’s new husband to attend, but also everyone AT the bar.

A few observations that I can vaguely recall:

• We recalled times when we made fun of “old” drunk people in bars, decided that life is pretty much one big payback, and considered chalking our ID’s. Sadly, no one had a red pencil handy.
• I no longer found it amusing that the bartender was drunk and over pouring my drinks.
• It’s no longer funny or cool to stumble down a public sidewalk yelling, “I LOVE THIS TOWN!
• When the DJ plays “retro” music it might be a sign that you’re old if you actually remember when the song was first released. And an even worse indicator if you can identify the song from the Pretty Woman soundtrack. If the same DJ plays Traveling Wilburrys, don’t glare at the 20 year old next to you when she says, “Why the fuck are the playing all this old people music?”
• My friend’s new husband, now my prototype man, proudly yelled, “Jesus Christ! All these young girls dress like strippers now. Where were they when I was 22?” Then turning to his new wife, “I’m just saying, stripper girls would have been great 10 year ago. Hey! There’s another stripper!”