Drunkest Date Ever

I hadn’t solidified plans for my Saturday night one weekend and it was getting into the late afternoon and I needed to sure something up. First, I got a text from a girl that I had met at a party (Let’s call her Kelsey). That was followed shortly thereafter by text from a girl I had gotten a blowjob from a while back during a Halloween adventure (I’ll call her Wendy).

I was thinking about attempting a date with the more attractive girl, Kelsey.  She and I had given each other the right signals but I hadn’t managed to get anywhere with her beyond a good conversation. I like being given a choice, generally it’s easier for me to make a decision based on a number of merits. Kelsey was around the age of 19, I was 23. She had a better figure and she was only in town for the weekend. We really hit it off the night we met, so I figured she was likely my best bet.

But Wendy was tried and true. She was 22 and she’d been known to drunk dial me every other couple of weekends. And her intentions were “pretty clear.” Wendy was a slutty ultra-Christian/bible thumper that appeared to be the conservatively dressed campus christian’s preseident; but she had a habit of texting me dirty things late at night on the weekends. This alone makes the experiences that much more hilarious/worth it. Being with her felt like I was delivering sin directly to the angels. She was the type that went on “conversion missions” in different countries and of course- went to church every Sunday.

As I spent my time getting ready for my date with Kelsey I mentally rehearsed my brief phone call to Wendy explaining that I was going to be “busy.” I was about to head out the door to meet Kelsey when I called her to firm up the deal. She didn’t answer. A flakey attractive chick…? Never heard of such a thing.In that instant, Wendy became my shinning little silver medal.

I called Wendy cringing because I hadn’t responded to her text for almost an hour. We spoke briefly and she gave me the details. She would be meeting some friends in Arlington by taking a shuttle from George Mason University’s campus to the metro in the next 10 minutes. The shuttle bus would only get people to the very last stop on the metro. Then you would have to take a train into Arlington for another 30 minutes. I told her I would race over to meet her inside the campus bus terminal, and if the bus came before I got there, we could simply take the next one. She agreed and I set off knowing we would probably be waiting for the next bus.

Sure enough I got there around 9:35, just missing the first bus by five minutes. I walked inside the bus terminal area (which was heated) and surprised Wendy from behind. Wendy was looking as good as any six out of ten could in a simple dark purple dress and heavy coat on to battle the February chill of Northern Virginia. She was alone, sitting at a small table with about four chairs around it. In front of her was a deer park water bottle filled with Burnettes Vodka and a sprite bottle containing half sprite and half vodka.metro drunk girl

“Wanna take shots?” Wendy said shifting her weight in the chair and settling slightly to the side in a hunched position while unscrewing the deer park bottle.

“Sure,” I said with a smile. “Just don’t expect to keep up with me.”

Wendy laughed and tipped the bottle back taking a large swill. A few gulps later she made a pucker face, exhaled loudly, and then she shot a maniacal grin.

So we sat there, going back and forth taking swigs of Vodka and sometimes chasing it with the sprite bottle until the bus arrived about ten minutes later. We brought the booze onto the shuttle and continued taking mouthfuls of vodka and chasing it every once in a while with the mixed bottle.

As the bus puttered along I looked at Wendy, “You keep taking as many drinks from this as I am. Are you really trying to keep up with me?” I asked with some amusement in my voice.

“Yeah.” She said raising an eyebrow, “This is nothing for me. I usually drink way more than this.”

I laughed for moment and reassured her that she didn’t have to prove anything- because I was clearly a more “seasoned” drinker.

Wendy sat up in a concerned manner and suddenly asked, “Where are you staying tonight if you’re coming out with me?”

I was slightly caught off guard. That question normally surfaces around the end of night. “Well,” I said sitting more upright and throwing on a smile that only comes with a few shots of cheap vodka, “I already parked on campus, I was imagining that we would probably make it back to your room. Does that work for you?” I asked bringing the vodka slowly to my lips.

“Well here’s the thing, my boyfriend is passed out in my room.”

“Wait, what?!” I coughed vodka back into the bottle and cleared my throat while wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, “What boyfriend?”

Wendy explained that her boyfriend had come in town for the weekend but he had managed to get so drunk prior to going out that he passed out around 7:00 PM and was in no shape to be out that night. She could tell I was a bit confused by the whole situation.

“One of my friend’s that we’re going to meet has a house with an extra room in Arlington.” She said putting her hand on my upper thigh, “We both can stay there tonight.” She grabbed the bottle out of my hands and took a large swig of the vodka.

“That sounds like a plan.” I said awkwardly smiling while sinking back into my seat wondering what I had just gotten myself into.I don’t like being the reason couples break up or the guy that is held responsible for something not panning out. But I was 23 and this wasn’t exactly a game-ender for me.

The shuttle bus dumped us off at the Metro around 10:15. We bought our fare cards, walked through the turnstiles, and made it to the platform just in to time to catch the train. Most of our car was filled with younger people (people in their 20s) dressed up for a night out to Arlington or DC. I exchanged a few conversations with Wendy and others around us while we finished off both of the bottles.

As the train came to our stop I began to realize Wendy wasn’t… “All there.” When our stop finally came, we made our way to the doors easily enough but I could tell something was up. It was as if the moment we stepped off the train and onto the platform Wendy went from zero to drunk. When that train left our platform, it took with it Wendy’s sobriety and my chances of having a normal night.

Imagine for moment, the sound a deer would make trying to walk on freshly waxed marble floor.bambi on ice


Wendy’s high heels were skidding out from underneath her as she was gripping onto my arm for dear life. She was vodka ice skating for the first time… Meanwhile, I had only the slightest buzz and I knew fate had  dealt me the babysitter card for the evening.

We skidded our way to the escalator as she swayed in all directions while mumbling, “Just, don’t fucking… I need… You have to take me to the bar?”

Now I fully regretted letting her go shot for shot with me, it was clear this evening was going to be a challenge.

“Ok Wendy,” I said holding her shoulders trying to get her attention. “First we’re going to get you to the closest bar we see. Then we’ll get you some water. Then when you’ve sobered up a little, we can meet up with your friends. Cool?”

Wendy  made a noise that I would be doing comedy an injustice to spell it out

Once at the street level I spotted a bar right across from the metro entrance. It happened to be an Irish pub, which I’m sure has seen its fair share of drunks, so marching her right up with me.

We got inside, had our IDs checked, and even managed to shuffle over to a corner table to take a seat. It was still too early for the bar rush so most of the people in the pub were couples or people finishing up their Friday night meal before heading out. The pub had an interesting set up; we were seated in the corner spot which somehow exposed us to the maximum amount of people in the restaurant. There was a long booth going the length of the place with tables pushed right up to its edge. Wendy pushed herself into the corner spot and I sat in a chair on the other side of the small table with my back to the door. Beside us was a table of four guys, possibly gay, and a little further down the line was a table with two couples.

Wendy decided to lie down and kick off her shoes resting her head right next to one of the random guy’s laps.“This isn’t going well,” I remember thinking. We’ve all babysat at some point in our lives. Some people can recover from these bouts of near comatose inebriation. I was just so surprised it had all hit her so quickly. If I was at a party I’d have sent her home or pawned her off on her friends.

She posted up on an elbow and began to mumble something into the guy’s chest. I just tried to play it cool and pretend we were all having fun. Those guys looked harmless. So I wasn’t worried that I would have to deal with any of them if things escalated.

“You want to do what?” the guy said smiling down at her then looking at me laughing.long bench

“Your girlfriend says she wants to give me a blow job… under the table?” The guy said chuckling and elbowing his friends.

“Wendy, Sit up!” I said with conviction reaching over the table grabbing her hand that was migrating from the random guy’s shin to his knee.

I was trying to control the situation and looked at her as if I was supposed to be the adult authoritative figure, “You have to act a little more sober for me dear, we’re getting water soon.” I said in a tone usually reserved for an adolescent.

She laughed and struggled to push herself up to a seated position while almost pulling the table on top of her. Our waiter chose this opportune moment to show up from behind me to take our drink order,

“What can I get y…” he stopped and stared.

At that moment, Wendy could only be categorized by the term, “quite, visibly drunk.” She slumped over again while propping one leg up on the booth partially exposing her underwear; still trying to mumble something to the guy sitting next to her. She was completely unaware of the waiter.

“You’ve got to be kidding?” the waiter announced angrily looking at me, like this was my production.

I shrugged and confidently ordered my drink, “I’ll take two glasses of water and a whiskey-coke.”

“There’s no way I’m serving you guys, both of you need to get out of this bar, you have two minutes to get out before I find someone to throw you out.”

“No problem.” I said casually looking at Wendy nodding like this was a normal part of going to the bar.

After another disgusted look, the waiter turned to go find a manager.I slowly stood and reached for my date’s arms as not to draw any more attention, “Wendy, they’re kicking us out. Let’s go somewhere else.”

Wendy had a flash of sobriety and realized I was getting up to leave. She lunged at me and gripped the scarf hanging around my neck then fell backwards yanking my head towards her almost smashing my face on the table.

By this point, everyone in the bar was watching us with great amusement. I was flailing trying pull myself back into my seat while Wendy seemed hell bent on getting me on top of her. I kept glancing up every few seconds hoping that people would go back to doing what ever they were doing before we got there, but in fact our bizarre date was the center of attention… at a bar I would likely never come back to.

Wrestling myself free momentarily, I leaned over and picked her shoes up off the ground and tried to put them next to her as she grabbed wildly for my arms. “Put your shoes back on dear and we’ll go to a better bar.” I said in a lowered but rushed voice knowing that nearly forty people were turned around in their chairs watching us tumble around a small table and two chairs.

I eased back into my seat so as not to draw even more attention (which wasn’t possible). Wendy paused then pushed our table slightly to the side and for a moment I thought she was getting up to put her shoes back on.

She stood looked around slowly squinting at her surroundings. She took half a step forward, turned, and dropped her weight onto my lap. In an attempt to be sexy, she threw her arms over my head and leaned back flipping her hair to one side like she was in a shampoo commercial and she tried to kiss me. I kept turning my head further away and trying to say “wait.”

In broken drunk slur she said, “No. Taylor, no- we… we can stay. Why is… if you… you want me to leave? puppy dog face gif

I rolled my eyes and turned away to see guys at the bar impersonating her and cheering for me with thumbs up. It wasn’t clear to me then or now whether I should have been  feeling gross or proud.A cute hostess; Asian girl, small, pretty, tiny frame, spotted our mess and walked over to try to assist.

She leaned in and put her face a foot away from Wendys nose, “Oh hunny, do you need some help? Maybe I get take you to the bathroom to go throw up? If not, we just called you a cab; it’ll be here real soon.”

Wendy was still staring lovingly at me when suddenly her demeanor changed. Turning to glare, I wasn’t sure what was going to happen next. Maybe Wendy was going to say something insightful?

Without speaking Wendy slowly raised her hand and placed her palm lightly on the girls face like an evangelist faith healer would do, then suddenly she followed through with a shot-put motion nearly knocking the little hostess back five feet almost putting her right on her ass. It was the first face shove I had seen preformed by a girl in many years.

“What the fuck girl!” the hostess yelled while still trying to control the volume of her voice and still keep her distance, “You do not touch me! I am trying to help you, fucking bitch!”

I heard loud bellowed laughter from across the bar as I sat half shocked and half amused that I was at the center of this debacle. It’s not like I could just get up and leave at leave during these moments because you want to see what happens next but in this case I wasn’t up for getting dragged into some physical altercation on account of a drunk girl I want nothing to do with.

Wendy went back to ignoring the rest of the world as she began trying to kiss my neck.

I continued struggling to get Wendy out of my face when I spotted the red-faced angry manager headed our direction. I was really ready to leave.I stood up, forcing Wendy who was still on my lap to her feet. “Put your shoes on Wendy, I’m walking outside.”

Wendy fumbled for her heels and eventually managed to get her feet into them. I took her by the arm and led her half stumbling outside to the sounds of thunderous applause by all the patrons there and shitty looks from the bar staff. A red-top Arlington Cab was waiting for us right outside and I didn’t hesitate opening the door to get Wendy into the back seat. She Climbed in on her hands and knees exposing part of her ass to the people inside who were still cheering. She came to a seat position sitting on one of her legs behind the driver.

“Go to George Mason University.” I said sternly to the cabbie from the back seat.

The cab driver nodded and we started to make our way down the street.

Wendy pushed herself closer to me and rested her head on my shoulder as I looked around in amazement of how I’d managed to get myself into such a debacle. I knew my night was fucked and wasn’t going to rebound here, I was annoyed and over it.

“I’m… not fuck… I’m, I’m not fucking… going back yet” Wendy mumbled.

“Then call your friends and they can figure out what to do with you.” I said.”I can’t, my ph-phone is on the metro.” She pouted.

I rolled my eyes again. “It just keeps getting better. Either you’re going back with me right now or this guy is going to let me out and you can tell him where to go.”

Mind you, she wasn’t coming back from being this style of drunk and I hadn’t signed up for being a caretaker that night. I had imagined a long evening of flirting, dancing, and fun that played out into us going to her friend’s house to have drunk sex. Wendy had completely hijacked my Saturday night and what was worse; I wasn’t even remotely buzzed anymore.

“My… I mean, I have. I have my parent’s credit card…” She mumbled-baby-talked, trying to sound cute.

“Ok.” I said, “That’s nice”

“My parents will pay for our hotel room and we can do anything you want. I don’t care. Let’s just go. Let… Let’s go to the hotel.” She continued.

I laughed and patted her knee. There was no chance I was going to take advantage of an incredibly drunk girl even though the hotel room idea gave me a slight confidence boost. Either way, I also recognized that this perhaps was a bit of a Karma tap. Just a quick “hello” from the wise gods of poor decisions. But seriously, I had put myself there. This was mostly my own doing when I looked back at all the choices I made leading to where I presently was. I had originally not even planned to see this girl because I was holding out for the prettier one. This lush in the back seat of a cab with me had a boyfriend anyway. None of my choices were made using logical “big head” reasoning and what would I really end up getting out of this situation anyhow? I set out for the short term sexytime-fix and wanted an easy scenario whose best case scenario resulted in spurring problems in other people’s lives and another notch in my belt. Who is really winning here anyway? I kind of deserved this mindfuck despite Wendy’s behavior. It just sucked having to realize this while I’m still there.So had accepted the fact that I would invariably have to be a good guy that evening and get this train-wreck of a chick home and grab my truck out of parking and head out.

“I know. It’s okay. Another time Wendy, I’m getting you back home. End of story.” I said.

“NO!” She screamed, “I’m not going back to my dorm!”

“Pull over! NOW!” She yelled at the cab driver.

I raised an eyebrow and put my hand on her thigh in a calming motion. “No, she’s just being dramatic” I reassured the cab driver, while looking at her, “just go to George Mason University.”

“NO! PULL OVER!” She screamed opening her door while we were flying through traffic as I dove across the seat to keep her from falling out and yanked the door shut.

The driver swerved all over the road madly screaming. Nearly missing a parked car, the driver slammed on his breaks jerked the wheel to the right while still irately yelling, “You pay me now, get the fuck out of my cab!”

I threw him five bucks and begrudgingly helped Wendy out of the cab without saying much. We had made it all of four blocks from the first bar and we were now in the middle of Clarendon which was where most people in Arlington generally go out drinking. It was frigidly cold out and I was done playing games.

“Okay, here’s the deal hun,” I announced in a frustrated manor, “We’re going back to Mason. You have managed to ruin my Saturday night. Either I’m coming with you or you’re going in a cab alone.”

“But I love you,” she said in a slurred fashion with a yet another drunk puppy dog look.

“Thanks,” I said sarcastically, “I can appreciate that but, I don’t want to continue discussing this. Am I coming with you back to George Mason University or do you want to do it alone? You just got too drunk tonight and we can’t fix that.”

She spaced out for a moment then gave me a the child having a tempter tantrum face.

“Fuck you, just leave. Leave me alone! I don’t want to fhh-fh-fucking see you again.” She threw her torso forward and spat at me. I saw it coming and luckily managed to dodge her loogie.

I looked at her with shock and amazement. I’ve never had a girl spit at me me before… It was ultimatum time. Usually drunks can handle simple ultimatums, they’re simple to understand. Provide that person two choices where one is heavily weighted towards good and reasonable and the other choice usually resembles- “or you can go to jail.”

“Okay, I’m going to give you the count of ten to tell me right now that you want me to come with you back to GMU or I’m going to leave you alone right here and let you figure it out.”

I started the countdown “1…2…3…4… I’m going to leave; 5… 6…7… 8… 9…”

“Fuck off already!” Wendy screamed.

I smiled, and imagined picking up my cane and top hat. With a dramatic turn and a hop, I started to walk… ney, prance about 10 yards down the sidewalk without looking back. Further down the street I soon blended in with the passing bar goers. Just so we’re clear, the plan was’t to leave her… I just wanted to make her squirm a little.

Leaning up against a wall, I lit a cigarette and watched to see what my drunken cellphoneless lady friend was planning on doing next. I wasn’t even really out of view, just far enough away that she wouldn’t be able to figure out it was me. My plan was to sit back and watch her for a minute then when she realized her predicament, we could get out of there without any further complications. Letting her sweat it out would calm her down and by the time I would be finished with my cigarette she would be begging to go home.

She slumped over against a wall and started to cry. It was like watching bad TV but I couldn’t change the channel.

Putting my cigarette out and starting to feel bad for Wendy, I started to walk back over, when there was an unforeseen development.A random girl walked up to Wendy and began to talk with her. The random girl didn’t appear to know her but was clearly concerned and attempted to console Wendy.  Maybe she was asking Wendy how she got there or where her friends were? I hung back a little longer and watched the two girls suddenly cross the street together and started walking in my direction up the sidewalk.

When the girls got within about five feet of me, I put on a smile, “Wendy, can I take you home now?”

The random girl held Wendy tightly under one arm and looked at me.

The other girl must have assumed I was some kind of creep, “Do you know this guy?” The random girl asked her.

“I don’t fuckin, know that asshole,” Wendy slurred looking right at me.The two of them side stepped and passed me.

I laughed and stood there in disbelief as they continued to walk together and rounded the corner. I paused for a moment. Mixed feelings of relief and regret loomed over me for just a moment. Looking to my right, was the corner they had just turned onto- with taking that path would come more drama and problems. And to my left was the bar that I’d been meaning to check out for a few weeks. I chose the bar and giggled as I walked in and ordered my first drink.When I see my ex at a party and told me she made a mistake dumping me - Imgur

As it would turn out, a few of my friends were close by and I was able to salvage my night….As for Wendy….I texted her two days later, “Any survivors?”

She called later that evening and much to my surprise had almost no recollection of that night’s events. She said she didn’t remember getting off the metro, much less the bar. Her last memory was of some strange girl she had never met before helping her into her dorm room.

I filled her in on the missed parts which she unrealistic and “troubling.” She apologized profusely and promised to make it up to me in the future. I told her I’d consider it. Wendy would end up drunken dialing/texting me for the next handful of years. It was no surprise that after she got in engaged to a “good Christian man” she continued to text every once in a while during a late weekend evening. Even now when I receive a late night drunk text without looking at the phone, I sometimes wonder if it’s Wendy trying to seal the deal once more.

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