8th Mile Girl

Day drinking generally leads to night drinking out in San Diego. I had spent the entire day at an event called “over the line.” What had started back in the late 1970’s as fun beach drinking game had turned into a massive worldwide tournament. I was slamming shots, gulping mixed drinks, and shot gunning beers from 11:00 AM to roughly 7:00 PM. When I finally made it back home I knew I needed to get something in my stomach to suck up the alcohol and rally quickly or face a certain defeat in the form of succumbing to sleep.
Barely a block away, I spot people drinking and eating on my front lawn. My roommates had thrown a little party and had all of their friends over. According to the drunk people that were there, they had been drinking in front of the house since roughly 2:00 and were ready to go out have fun at the bars. I devoured a few bites of a hamburger, took a hot dog to the face, showered, and threw on some clothes all in matter of about 10 minutes. We ended up at a roof top bar where drinks were over priced and there wasn’t any talent in the entire place besides the people we brought with us.
I didn’t much care for the boring topics of discussion that were in perpetual rotation so I began to make an effort to try to convince the group to have a change of scenery. I just wanted to get out of the lack luster atmosphere and into a place more suited to our mood. I managed to convince two guys to leave with me due to the fact that their “ladies” were pre-occupied with the other girls (like they had been all day). We walked a block and a half to my favorite drinking establishment in Pacific Beach, Millers Field. Once inside, my eyes lit up. There were all kinds of opportunities to be had and there was an entire night ahead of us to make it work.
I slapped down my card and got the first few rounds. I spent the next two hours using the guys as pivots to meet new women. The night was filled with lines like:
“Hey girls, these two are having a terrible night, how would you cheer them up?”
“Hey have you met Brian? Well you have now, what’s your friends name?”
“Me and my two friends agree, you guys are definitely not from around here, try and guess where we’re from and if you get it right, one of these guys will buy you a shot.”
The options were endless and time was on my side. I managed to meet a lot of talent that night. After a bit of running around on my own, I slipped towards the back of the upstairs to have a smoke and relax. I saw a very mediocre blond girl standing a few feet away, not talking to anybody.
“You can talk to me if all your friends left you behind. It could be worse,” I glanced to my right and point using my head in a look that way fashion towards a fat guy with a flat brim hat who was having trouble standing, “I could be that guy.”
She walked over smiling and we hit it off pretty quickly. Her name was Jamie, she was a little heavier than what I was used to. She had a tangled mess of dirty blonde hair and a rough featured face. She sported skinny jeans, converse sneakers, and a long ratty shirt that didn’t fit. I had no reservations saying she was far from the spitting image of “stunning.” I finished my cigarette and stuck around to talk and laugh with the blond I just found.
She really wasn’t much to look at, but she’s had one hell of a sense of humor. She claimed she did a lot of amateur stand up at a few places. It could have been the twelve plus hours of drinking but I really enjoyed her jokes. I hadn’t ever met a sharp funny female comedian and I was a little enthralled. She offered to take me up to a few comedy clubs where she preformed and encouraged me to try getting on stage if I had the balls to go with her.
Jamie was loud, boisterous, witty and blunt. She had some type of accent that I couldn’t put my finger on despite her saying she was from southern California. She was very opinionated, anti-establishment, and anit-pop culture; and I dug it. I’m not sure if it was the liquor or Jamie’s general demeanor, but I was impressed by something. Every once in a while I’ll go for something that is off the beaten path just because it’s clearly so different. I can understand that it sounds chauvinistic, but most men my age (especially in SoCal) really only focus on aesthetics and I can admit that I often do this. But I was enjoying myself. A few drinks later we caught a long pause in the conversation and we started kiss.
It wasn’t long before Jamie was whispering dirty things in my ear while rubbing my crotch in the bar. “I want it now.” She said kissing my ear.
“Well all these people might be a little upset if we just did it right here on the bar?” I said winking.

“I’m really good at giving blowjobs” She whispered kissing my neck.
I started laughing at how easy and absurd the situation had become, “I’m really good at legos. And making french toast” I whispered back.
Jamie pulled back for a second confused then she laughed and leaned in to kiss me, “Mmm. French toast.”
After a few minutes of this I decided it was high time to leave. I was going to take the funny girl with a personality home rather than the retarded pretty girls I had been so accustomed to chasing. I said goodbye to a few groups of people I had gotten to know earlier and walked arm-in-arm out of the bar with my “prize.”
During our five block walk back to my house she described some of her past encounters with guys that were with self deprecating humor. She seemed to have an affinity for attracting “assholes.”
“We’re not having sex, just so you know.” Jamie said to me as we neared my house.
Considering that moments earlier she was practically jerking me off in a bar, I really didn’t take any part of that line very seriously. To be perfectly honest, I don’t always want to jump right into sex and there are plenty of other great things that I enjoy (of a sexual nature) that are just as fun that don’t compromise “morals.” But considering that we were coming from a bar and she was planning on sleeping over, things seemed to be headed that direction anyway. It’s like going to a theme park and saying, “we’re only going to stand in line for the rides, we’re not getting on any roller coasters today; are we clear?” But once you get to the front of the line for the ride after all that time you spent waiting and you can see how much fun that roller coaster is going to be, it’s really hard to head for the exit without curiosity getting the best of you.
I know this is a tricky subject but I honestly think women say “just so you know, we’re not having sex” so they don’t appear like someone that does that type of thing regularly and they can save their squeaky clean reputation by claiming they’re not that type of girl. It’s something that has been ingrained in them by society or it comes from an implanted guilt stemming from parents or peers. Maybe it’s just what they’ve read in some stupid magazine that says that sexual behavior is evil and wrong. I’ve seen Cosmo magazines articles that spell out this situation with bold letters with crap like, “even though you want to, you should resists at all costs and wait until date number five or six.” Idiots.
I’m sorry, I’m not governed by a ridiculous made-up timeline or a preconditioned set of rules that dictates when I can act out what behaviors and who I can engage in those with. If it feels right and both people are heading in that direction, there’s nothing wrong with letting these things play out. So what if you enjoy sex or sexual activities and that doesn’t make you a devious person, it makes you human.
Relationships are not static blueprints that must be followed to the quarter inch. It’s not a matter of disrespect; it’s a matter of conforming to a stupid social norm that has no reasonable basis other than an argument for what is “decent.” I don’t need the stupid frustrating games that make me think you’re incapable of thinking for yourself, that’s when I lose interest. If I like you and I’m interested; I don’t care if society judges me or you for sharing our sexuality ahead of what is considered to be the normal, the appropriate, or the right time. If the only thing holding you back from enjoying someone else is your reservation over what your friends might think or what it makes you if you share yourself with someone new then I won’t take you seriously from the start. Seriously, life is too short to follow made up rules that don’t have any place or bearing in society anymore.
As we got into my place she shared a final story of being dicked over by a guy and I had to change the subject. I’ll admit it, most every guy is plenty capable of being a dick. But not all of us are evil. Besides if you keep making insinuations that I fit that mold, chances are, I’m going to fulfill that prophecy just out of spite.
The interesting thing about this girl was she had developed a sense of humor( much like a guy who’s been burned) and worked on it diligently to compensate for her lowered self worth. I decided to stray from the tried and true style of using the night’s momentum to slide into a precarious situation once in my room. It would be very easy to let the “heat of the moment” catch up to us and let clothes fly off once we got into my room. But I thought this girl could be different and instead I decided to go with a different angle.
 She had the makings of a great girl but had never been treated as such. Think of it as me trying to do all I could to turn her perceptions of one night stands into something way better; where everyone would walk away happy about it. This may have been alcohol logic at the time, but it made sense to me.
That’s not to say I was planning on never talking to her again. I had fully planned on seeing her again, but I wanted to positively tweak her negative perceptions of guys she meets in bars.
Soon we found ourselves intertwined kissing on my bed. Moments later we had pulled each other’s shirts off and I flipped her on top of me while I unhinged her bra. Rather than going in for the kill, I paused.
“How do you feel about getting an amazing oil massage?” I ask her.
“I’m not sure; nobody has ever given me one.” She said looking at me skeptically.
“What? Really? How’s that even possible?” I said jumping up from the bed and pulling out an array of massage tools and oils.
“I dunno,” She said smiling, “nobody’s ever offered I guess.”
“Well there’s a first time for everything then isn’t there.” I said as she looked excited and laid down.
Looking back on it now I kind of cringe, because every once in a while I’ll do this and it’s kind of a cheesy thing but I enjoy it. I lit candles all around my room; I turned on some John Mayer/Jack Johnson, and began spreading peach scented oil across her back.
While John Mayer’s guitar whirred in the background, I massaged her shoulders and back making swirls with my hands and working pressure points with my fingers. I spent a good 30 minutes working on just her back and shoulders while talking to her about her life and aspirations. We talked out how we both ended up in San Diego; it was actually kind of nice (despite how incredibly gay I sound). I finally asked her about her accent but she didn’t understand what I was talking about, so I dropped it. Part of me felt it was a good karma gesture to do something like that for a girl that doesn’t usually get this type of treatment.
As I neared her lower back I paused, “Hmmm, I think these pants are going to have to come off.”
“No. They’re staying on.” She said.
“Well I don’t want to get oil on them” I laughed while leaning in to kiss her neck, “if I stop here that’s only half of a massage.”
She turned over and looked up at me giving me a dead-on people’s eyebrow, “When I first got over here I really wanted to have sex with you, and I was totally ready to. But you’re actually a really cool guy.”
“Well thanks,” I said shrugging and batting my eyes at her.
“But I think I’m catching feelings for you and since all of this, I wouldn’t want to ruin it by having sex with you tonight. I think we should hang out a few times and see where this goes.”
I cocked my head to the side, “What? I don’t understand?”
“You seem like a really awesome guy and if I put out on the first night, you’ll never call me again.”
I started to laugh, “I’ll still be the same guy I was five minutes ago, yesterday, or tomorrow regardless. I’m pretty sure just based on our conversations, you can tell I’m not one of the other retards you’ve been with.”
She shook her head. “Take me somewhere nice first.”
I laughed even louder, “Oh great. Well this is nice, you’re in my room.”
“No,” She said, “Like a nice dinner or something.”
My eyes rolled, “Did you read this shit in a magazine or something?”
“No I just know you’re supposed to wait when someone like this comes along.” she said folding her arms.
“Someone like what comes along? We’re having fun here. You’re telling me, if I had treated you like some bar slut we would be having sex right now, but because I decided to treat you like a human being you don’t want to have sex.” I said sitting up.
“Well yeah, that’s one way to put it; but that’s before I realized you were a cool guy. We can have sex after our second date.” She said running her fingers through my hair.
“How the? Help me to understand, if I had treated you like garbage we could be having sex, but since I didn’t, and was nice- anything sexual is now off the table?” I asked a bit perturbed by the recent development.
“Well yeah, you know. I think you’re now date-able material whereas before… kinda like, I don’t know. I didn’t think I’d see you again, so now I just don’t want our first time hooking up to be a result of a drunk night. It should be special.” She said.
“Ok I might be drunk but that’s not the result. Alcohol would be a much more valuable product if all you had to do was drink it and suddenly you were getting laid. We don’t have to have sex, but there are plenty of things we could do that might be just as fun. What about the blowjob you were talking about at the bar?” I asked wiggling my hips a bit.
“Nah, I want to know that you’re the right one. If you are, then you can wait.” She said smiling.
I paused waiting for her to interject something like “I’m just kidding! Let’s fuck like otters!”
But nothing came out, she was serious. By treating a bar slut like a real person, I had in turn boosted her ego to a level beyond anything that I could reason with, thus cockblocking myself in the process.
“Seriously, where is this coming from? Did you see this shit in some lame movie or a television show or something?” I said rubbing both eyes with the palms of my hands.
I was frustrated but more than anything I mad at myself and confused with how I let myself get here.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” She asked defensively.
“This is why guys treat girls like crap. You really can’t win. Do you see what you’re teaching me to do in the future?” I said throwing myself off to the side.
“I am really attracted to you, but I just want to do it after I know you’ll call me again. We can kiss but that’s all I’m doing tonight.” She said in her funny little accent rubbing my arm.
“You were rubbing my dick at the bar!? How is this any different?” I exclaimed.
“Well that’s before I saw that you could be a caring guy. For real.” She explained. “Come on, we can kiss and snuggle till the morning.”
“Holy shit.” I said laying next to her looking up at the ceiling shaking my head; wishing I had an eject button that would shoot me out of the house and allow me to land safely miles away.
A few seconds of silence later, I got up and blew out all my candles in the room and turned off the music. I was too tired to try to make this work. I laid back down and pulled my comforter over me. Within a few minutes I had passed out.
In the morning I was awoken to movement next to me.
Jamie was trying to wake me, “Ey! Ey! Yo I’m tryin’ roll out. You got a ride cause I ain’t tryin’ to walk.”
“What the fuck?” I said confused by her newly found slang talk. For some reason Jamie was speaking in slang/ebonics.
“I gotz sum stuff I -you know, that needs to be done-and all an’ I ain’t trying to walk back.” Said Jamie.
 As it turns out, the “accent” I kept asking about was actually ebonics and I hadn’t picked up on it because I was drunk.
“Oh my god, when did you start talking like this?!” I blurted out still drunk and trying to get my bearings on what was going on. “What is this? A rap video? When did you start talking ghetto?”
She had already put on her shirt and bra and was now standing by the door. “Huh? Eh come on man, I’m just tryin’ to roll out. It ain’t chill, you can go back sleep’n after you hook me up with a ride home.”
I start laughing while squinting at the clock, it was only 7:15 and I was still quite drunk. 12+ hours of drinking will do that to you. “Listen up 50 cent, my car is in Clarendon (which is a city in Northern Virginia and not California), perhaps you can ride the bus back to the 8th Mile with Eminem.”
She started using ghetto hand gestures reserved only for the highest quality of gangsters “Nah man, that ain’t even cool though. It ain’t like that, I need a ride.”
Laughing even more hysterically I said, “There’s no way I was so drunk I didn’t pick up on this! Yo! Somebody drop this girl a beat! Oh Dayum! HAHAHA!”
“Man! You trippin’ and busted anyway,” Jamie lashed at me then she swiveled and slammed my door on her way out of my room.
“I can’t hear out of my left headphone!” I yelled after her still laughing as I heard her rushing down the steps to leave my town house. I downed a glass of water and laid back down to sleep for another few hours. I never heard from her again.
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