Chapter 4, or Do you rent rooms by the hour?

*warning: this post contains bad words n' shit*

June 2008 was rocky, so why not bring in July with a bang?  My first weekend back from my parent's house I made a new friend...

She asked me to come to this club opening in Newport Beach and right away I knew I was out of my league.  The girls who go to these clubs are at least 5 years younger and 50 pounds lighter than me.  They wear dresses that barely cover their butt cheeks and sit with their legs uncrossed.  Thanks for the beaver shot, sluts.  So, I needed to throw together an outfit that I wouldn’t look ridiculous in, but would make me somewhat fit in.  Besides the beaver-dresses it was also in fashion to wear black shorts.  Luckily, I had a pair (even if they were from Old Navy and made of linen).  I had this red, backless, halter-top that barely fit me anymore because I had acquired a mild case of the back fat, so I put a red tube top under it and combined it with the shorts.  The only part of the outfit I really liked was my shoes.  They have about a three-inch heel, which makes me feel like my legs are longer.  I didn’t look half bad for all my chubbiness.

I lost my friend several times throughout the night and eventually decided to park it outside of the bottle service room.  At least there I could lean up against the wall to try to take some pressure off of my feet (my shoes were having a fight with my feet and my feet were losing).  Or, maybe, it was so I could stand near the stupid-hot 24 year old bouncer guarding the entrance.

He was one of the hottest guys I’ve ever seen in real life.  He was Brad Pitt hot (I mean Brad Pitt before he became an affair having dick nugget).  Girls kept walking up to him and talking in his ear and either going in the room or walking away. 

I leaned into his ear and said, “This must be a great job all these girls want to fuck you.” 

To which he said, “Nah, they mostly just want to get in the room.” 

To which I said, “I’d rather fuck you.” 

Ladies, sometimes balls ass boldness like that pays off because then he said, “Girl, I would totally hit that.” 

         Never have such unromantic words been such a turn on.  Apparently, Hot Bouncer likes a big ass.  I happen to have one of those.  So I decided to go all in.  I said, “Don’t tease me, I’m being serious.”  He took my phone and put his number in it, called his phone so he had my number, and told me the place closed at 1:30 and he would get out around 2 if I wanted to wait.  Hells yeah I wanted to wait. 

When he got out he sent me a text that said: so where u wanna do this dance.  I almost gushed right then and there.  But, instead, I texted: somewhere with flattering lighting.  So he texted me: I would suggest we go to a hotel but that’s kinda trashy.  I texted back: I’m totally trashy, hotel it is.  But I make it a rule that we have to ask if they rent rooms by the hour.  We found a Super 8.  Classy joint.  They didn’t rent rooms by the hour and we didn’t have enough cash.  The guy told us we could pay with a credit card and I said, “Honey, we can’t have a paper trail.”  

We went to a liquor store to use the ATM and he bought condoms.  Magnums.  I realized that what I was about to do was on my dangerous-things-not-to-do list and my slutty-things-not-to-do list, and I was paying for half of the hotel room (well, technically, The Ex was paying), but magnums make my vagina smile.

The next morning we walked to our cars and I said, “Nice meeting you.  You have my number, for a good time call.”  He didn’t.  Kids!

This is another example of "Kids, don't try this at home."  But, sometimes you have to make the same mistakes over and over again before you learn...or if you're turning those mistakes into stories.  So, I guess the saying should be, "Kids, don't try this at home, unless you're trying to get enough material to fill a book."