Chapter 2 – Easy Girls, do you hear me?

I understand how sexist the opening rant may have sounded and how the term, “Easy Girls” is perhaps not fair. Men are fair easier then women aren’t they? But Easy Girls, why can’t you hear me? My pleas are loud and sometimes funny right?

I went to a party last week, and I’ll admit I was not looking forward to it. I thought I would get there, fall asleep right away and then be home by 2 a.m. I managed to convince my cousin to come with me, the whole time pointing out what a shit night it would be. My bottle of bourbon under one arm, Coke in the other, I was prepared to drink myself stupid, maybe throw up and say nothing interesting to anyone.

I am so negative sometimes…

So, I got home sometime between 5 and 6 am the next morning, some girl I met later in the night gave me a lift. It was so nice of her, and saved me cab fair. Isn’t that sweet?

So, we got to the party, and I needed to get some Coke. My cousin, Sophie, was overly rugged up for a cool summer night. I tried to convince her why.

‘If you start dressing like this, then you are only bringing Winter closer, forcing it upon us.’

‘You’re an idiot - watch the traffic- I am not moving the seasons anywhere, I am simply prepared. It rained yesterday, and was forecast to rain again tonight. I am being prepared.’

‘Boring.’

‘Right, ‘cos you are so spontaneous aren’t you? Come on, you have at least 5 toothbrushes stashed in at least 3 different locations, TWO at my place.’

‘Whatever…shut up!’

She laughed at me, ‘Your argument for everything.’

I brought the Coke and Sophie got a pack of smokes (yah!) and outside the convenience store, we ran into an old friend.

‘Rudy! Hey, how you doing?’

‘Mary! Hey! How have you been!?’ We all kissed hello and it was ever so quaint.

‘Sophie, I haven’t seen you in ages! You look great, and nice umbrella. I have one just like it!’ I sighed as audibly as I could.

‘Thanks. My idiot cousin hates it.’ They both rolled their eyes in my general direction.

Sophie went on, ‘I heard you got engaged!’

‘Yes! We kinda did it together. It was sweet, and fun.’

I missed the sound of my own voice, ‘Together?’

‘Yeah, a bit silly, but we both gave each other a month to organise the surprise, and then we both proposed on the same night!’

‘Wow,’ I said, ‘that is pretty damn romantic. That is awesome!’

‘Yeah, we both thought so.’

There was that pause, you know, when you are past the pleasantries and either you start having a real conversation, or you thank each other and part ways.

Sophie hugged Mary goodbye, and then I did.

‘That was an exciting conversation!’ I laughed and Sophie concurred.

The party was populated by people I had never met, and might never see again. It was great. I danced all night long, with everyone and anyone, and then with them again. The one dance I didn’t enjoy so much was the old bump & grind.

She was nice, we had been talking throughout the night, dancing together and slamming shots. We swung, and salsa-ed and even doo-wopped ( I think). And then the cheap, cheesy rap song started up. Maybe Tipsy, maybe Swing, maybe (I’m sorry), Hot in here.

So, there we were: I bumped and she grinded, I pushed and she pushed back. It was fun, I had never so –I will use the word "passion" I think- passionately hit up a dance floor. The beat, and the rhymes did what they do, beating and rhyming. Sweat pouring, rump shaking. It was at this point I noticed the guy staring/looking/checking out us and I thought, oh well whatever…

HANG ON! That’s, he is, this is his girlfriend’s arse smashing my crotch.
He was slamming shots too. He was dancing too. He was a really nice dude.

Dang! Awkward and weird. Fucking dang!

You just don’t bump and grind when your boyfriend is at the party.

Right?

Chapter 1 – Do you want to have sex with me?

The thing I don’t like about some of the women I meet, is their constant need, their desideratum (that’s right) to talk about how much they love to screw. How much they want coitus, and how tonight -much like previous nights I imagine in my jealous blackness- they will get laid.

They lay their eyes on some guy across the room, and while chatting to you, they patiently wait for the guy to make eye contact, and if he fails to do this, they just go right up their and lay it out straight for him.

Okay, maybe not so bluntly, but sometimes it’s so obvious.

Now, I won’t beat around the bush. I am not an ugly guy, not by any means. I’m not a short guy, or a particularly angry guy. I keep in okay shape and can occasionally be found to be attractive to the opposite sex. Seriously. I do alright. I have loved and been loved. I have dated, seen, been involved. However you want to refer to relationships, been there.

But right now, I just want to…done that.

I want some non-committal fucking. Some schtuping, some banging, I want to punch her in the underpants (I am not proud of that, and I truly do find it shocking).

There I said it. No more seeing or dating or getting to know you, getting to know you. Just straight to the bedroom thank you very much. This sounds really bad I know, but there are times in a man’s life when he wants to be really bad.

In, out, see you fucking later.

Is that asking so much?

My favourite part of the night – seeing her walk right past me and smacks a kiss on any other loser in the place. Any other loser.

*** *** ***

So, I have recently been making more of an effort to get the girl in bed that night. A friend and me have been casing out the chicks at parties recently, looking for the more eager girls.

My game was sad and pathetic. I thought I would tackle the dumb ones first.

The lowest I sunk, shit this was low.

“Yeah, I thought that Brad and Jen were a good couple, and remember that episode of Friends he was on? That was hilarious.”

Was I really prepared to stoop so low?

The answer was and is yes, but I threw this one out there, and got hit out of the park.

“Ha ha. Listen, do you want go back to mine and have sex?”

Smart girls?
Italians?
Drunk girls?
Druggy girls?
Sex on leg girls?
Italians? I like Italians.

Nobody bought what I was selling, even though it was so cheap and could have been good, right?

Tall girls, short girls, short girls and tall girls.

Nobody bought what I was selling.