Two Night Stand

My profession is not one of the standard 9-to-5 variety, so while the majority of the world was able to get fancied up and drink and party it up until the stroke of midnight and beyond on New Year’s Eve, I myself was at work until almost 1 a.m. No worries, though, because the bars are allowed to stay open indefinitely for it and thus as soon as I was released from my servitude I met my friends out for some New Year’s drinks and cheer.

As I walked in the bar to meet them I spotted a gentleman that from behind looked kind of like Twin II (or Twin I, I guess). I headed over to speak but upon further inspection I realized it wasn’t either twin at all and I did not in fact know this guy. But I was able to see that he was pretty good looking. Tall, clean-cut, crisply dressed in a blazer and button-down…my cup of tea for sure.

I noticed him throughout the night milling around the bar from time to time but he never seemed to take notice of me and I never had an appropriate opportunity to strike up conversation or anything, so…that was pretty much that.

It might’ve been about 3 a.m. when my friends decided to call it a night and said their goodbyes. So suddenly I found myself all alone yet not quite ready to pack it in just yet. As I stood there surveying my surroundings, who should I notice just a few footsteps away but the tall handsome stranger all by his lonesome? It didn’t appear that he was there with a date or even with anybody at all. So at that point I seized the opportunity.

I was pretty tipsy so I don’t remember exactly how the conversation started, but before I knew it, Cooper and I were like 2 peas in a pod. The bar was still going pretty strong but it was bound to be closing eventually and I guess we decided we’d had enough and decided to go back to chill at his place and drink more there. Driving was out of the question; he lived about a 15-minute walk from the bar strip which would ordinarily be doable but probably not the best idea in the wee hours of the morning when both parties are a good bit intoxicated. So we got a cab to his place and I do believe we did a shot of Fireball and then settled on his couch with some beers. Even though I don’t like beer.

A round of drunken sex ensued later on. We passed out and woke up around 10 a.m. I wasn’t miserably hungover but I wasn’t quite up to par. He was kind enough to fetch a cup of water for me. But I needed food. I’m not sure where the idea came from or why I even thought he’d be down for it, but I suggested we get brunch. Just a random, off-the-cuff idea, but I wanted to get some food on my stomach so I would’ve gone whether he had agreed to it or not.

But he did. Nice. I gathered my things and dressed with the assumption that we’d be parting ways after brunch. We took his car back to the bar strip and picked out a spot to eat. I ordered a mimosa and he got a crush and I planned on only having one or 2 drinks, max. But…I don’t know. One mimosa turned into 2 then 3 then 4. Then, for God knows what reason, we started doing shots. Not even fully recovered from the night before and there we were, at it again. Hair of the dog, I guess.

I was having fun. This was the most random of situations to find myself in, but I just went with it. I learned a lot about his background and his family and I liked it. He’s smart, successful, seems to come from a good family, and he was very easy to talk to. We had the same ideas about a lot of things. I told him at a certain point that I’d probably need to chill at his place for a bit to let the alcohol wear off before heading home, and he was fine with it. His day was completely clear. He doesn’t work the standard 9-to-5 either. I was actually supposed to work that night but it became clear after a while that that wouldn’t be happening. So I played hooky.

We decided we were done there and would head back to his place. We asked for the tab and he snatched it up as soon as it came without even batting an eye. We headed outside ostensibly to find a cab back to his place since he was definitely in no condition to drive, but it was cold and there were no cabs in sight, and before I knew it he was leading us to another bar so we could “wait for a cab.” Right!

We drank more. We talked more. We laughed more. More fun. Up until the point where we decided to get ready to leave and I made a quick trip to the bathroom beforehand. I came back out to discover that he had disappeared. The seats we had been occupying had been taken by other people and there was no sign of Cooper anywhere. I figured he had gone to the bathroom as well, but after a few minutes elapsed and he didn’t come back I took it upon myself to take a quick peek inside the men’s restroom to see if he was in there. Empty. I didn’t have his phone number so I had no way of contacting him at that point.

He ditched me. Wow. What a bummer. If you were ready to call it quits, that’s all you had to say. There I was all alone in the middle of a bar, drunkenly disoriented and ditched. I had just started to contemplate my dire situation when I looked up to see Cooper walking toward me.

He was back. He had run downstairs to the first floor to go say hi to a buddy or something. Not ditched after all. Not that it would’ve been the end of the world, I just thought that would’ve been a really jacked up thing to do. But alas, that wasn’t at all the case. Whew!

We cabbed it back to his place and engaged in more drunken sexual escapades. I put on one of his t-shirts afterward and we settled on the couch in his living room and watched TV. At one point later in the evening I got hungry. There was really nothing to eat in his house, but he showed me the menu of a local delivery spot that was likely to be open. To my delight, it was. I ordered us cheesesteak subs and we watched a movie. Eventually we started fooling around again on the couch and we headed upstairs for the night soon after to finish things from there.

I woke up a little bit before 2 a.m. craving fluids. I made several trips to the kitchen for juice and water throughout the night. We slept and laid around until just after 9 a.m. He indicated that he wasn’t feeling quite well, so I got water for him. Soon after it was time to get the day started.

We made the 15-minute trek back to the bar strip for our cars by foot. He saw me to my car and asked for my number. We exchanged. He said he had a good time and gave me a kiss goodbye. I told him to hit me up and tentatively suggested getting together next week. He said he needed some time to recover, but seemed agreeable to it. Whether I will hear from him or not is anyone’s guess. Most gentlemanly guys ask for your number after stuff like this I guess to be polite, but that doesn’t mean I will actually hear from him. I like him…I think he’s a good guy and it’d be nice to hang out with him on more of a sober tip and to get to know him better, but I won’t be holding my breath. The ball is in his court.

We had a lot of fun, but spending 2 nights at a stranger’s house without any grooming or hygiene products available certainly took its toll on my physical appearance. My makeup had disintegrated, a toothbrush did not touch my mouth not one time, and my hair, especially this morning, was a tangled disaster on one side in particular. I gather I probably looked like a homeless person. So he has seen me at my worst, that’s for sure.

So…that was different. Not the average one night stand. A two night stand, really. I can’t say I’ve ever spent 30 consecutive hours with a guy I went home with from a bar. So completely random. But it just happened to work out like that and I’m a pretty go-with-the-flow type of person if something just seems to fit. This is the stuff life is made of.

Ragged

I’ve been running myself completely ragged since Thursday night. Partying, then working. Then partying again, then working again. Rinse and repeat. I’m not sure what in the world possessed me to go out every single one of the last 5 nights, but the excessive level of eating, drinking, spending, and sleeplessness has certainly taken its toll. I’ve been exhausted every morning (and have probably looked like hell), have nearly ruined my stomach’s fledgling 6-pack, and have spent close to $500.00 on bar tabs, which is one of the least productive uses of money ever. Blah.

I was out on the usual strip on Friday night and ran into this older lady – Eloise – who I was familiar with from a previous outing. She’s an attractive woman in her late 40s or early 50s. I met her at the bar months back and discovered that she’s a regular there just like I am, but I hadn’t seen her since. After she happened in on Friday, we reacquainted ourselves. She was going through a rough time, so I kept her company while she downed glass after glass of wine, several of which I furtively paid for. As the night progressed, we ended up talking to this older lady next to us who was out with her sister celebrating her nephew’s birthday. I bought shots for her, the nephew, and myself, but the nephew was outside at the time so she did her shot and his. Impressive, for a 60-year-old woman. Needless to say, she got hammered. As her family was leaving a little while later, they tried to coax her away from me and Eloise, but she ignored them. They walked outside like they were leaving her, and moments later she attempted to follow but she was so idiotically intoxicated that she ended up stumbling and falling head-first into some random guy, who thankfully caught her. All eyes were then on her as she fumbled aimlessly around the bar for a few moments before I guided her outside into the arms of her family. I felt bad because I contributed to her intoxication with the 2 shots, but she was likely already pretty wasted before that. All in all, it was pretty hilarious to see a woman her age completely trashed.

I told Eloise I was going to head to another bar, and she had said she’d come with me, but she started talking to these guys and then the next thing I know she has a fresh glass of wine. I was ready to roll so I just bounced.

I got to the next bar and as soon as I walked in, I spied my buddy – Twin II – all by his lonesome. Twin II has an identical twin brother, Twin ITwin I and I briefly skirted around a romantic involvement a couple of years ago, but it never got any further than us making out once. No hard feelings. I see him out from time to time and we’re always cordial. I see Twin II out pretty much every time I hit the normal strip, and we’re cool, so I always make it a point to speak and hang out for a bit. So, like usual, I went over to chat when I saw him. I asked where Twin I was – he said he didn’t know. He bought me a drink and we made idle chitchat for a little while. Somehow the subject of Twin I came up and I said something along the lines of how me and Twin I didn’t work out because he was kind of a douchebag. Well imagine my surprise when Twin II reveals that he’s actually Twin I. I didn’t believe it until he showed me his ID. Oops. They’re identical twins, but there are always subtle differences between twins that enable people who know them well enough to tell them apart. Clearly, one of those people is NOT me. I thought I could tell them apart, but obviously not. I guess I just kind of assumed it was Twin II because I see him out a lot more often than Twin I (or do I?). Well…he wasn’t happy about what I said, and stormed away from me. My bad, yo!

I let him go do his thing and in the meantime was approached by some guy who, while sufficiently tall, wasn’t really my cup of tea.  We conversed for a little bit and he eventually asked me for my number. I gave him a secondary number I use through Google. I didn’t pay attention to my phone for the rest of the night, and only saw on Saturday morning that he had texted me barely even 20 minutes after we parted ways with “what are you up to tonight.” It was obvious what I was up to already – out drinking. Secondly, the night was pretty much almost over. What else would I realistically be up to at that point? Clearly he was scouting me out to try to assess the probability of him getting into my pants, which is kind of annoying as I highly doubt I even remotely hinted that I was interested in having sex with him. Boys are dumb. At least he doesn’t have my real number.

As closing time was approaching, I see Twin I heading out and I catch up to him to try to make amends. We ended up going to this carryout place and he bought us both plates of some type of chicken kabob and rice concoction. I couldn’t eat most of mine, but he took care of that for me. I’m not sure what we talked about or what the tone of the conversation was, but I guess we’re cool. After we finished eating, I put him in a cab and I headed home.

I had every intention of staying in on Saturday night and taking it easy, but my buddy hit me up and said that he and my other friends would be out and I succumbed to peer pressure. Ironically, I never even got to see them because they were at one bar, but I wanted to go to another bar to have dinner. I was going to meet them after eating, but Eloise had hit me up on Facebook earlier asking if I’d be out, and I told her I would. She came to meet me a little while later. I’d convinced her to head over to my friends’ bar after a while, but they had gone by the time we got there. So we did a little barhopping together and ended up meeting up with some neighbors of hers. We briefly migrated off the normal strip to another bar Eloise wanted to go to and claimed would be packed with hot guys. We got there after a 10-minute walk to find a grand total of maybe 7 people in there. Eloise felt bad, but it’s Labor Day weekend – bars are hit or miss. I had ½ a drink and was about to roll back. It appeared that Eloise was going to stick with her neighbors, which was fine by me. But then they left before I could and so Eloise wanted to head back with me. We ventured back and went to our last bar for the night.

Eloise is a fun lady. She’s single and wants to mingle. It’s hard to find someone like that in my own age group because everyone’s all intent on getting married and having babies. I think she has a couple of older children, but she’s not married or anything. My only issue with Eloise is that people tend to think she’s my mother and she gets all ticked about it like it’s the end of the world. Apparently on Friday night, some guy had been eyeing me at the bar and asked Eloise while she was outside smoking if she was my mother. She was not happy. She brought it up several times and I had to spend considerable time and effort convincing her that he probably thought I was younger than I am (which people frequently do), as opposed to her necessarily looking old. Then on Saturday night, a girl who was hanging out with her neighbors asked me if Eloise was my mother. Eloise was out of earshot, thank goodness, because she would’ve had another fit.

So clearly she’s insecure about her age. I think she gets disappointed when people assess it accurately because she’d rather them think she’s younger than she is. But I mean…she’s not young. It is what it is. That’s not to say she’s not attractive – she’s cute, in good shape, and keeps herself up well. But it’s obvious that she’s no spring chicken. And if she’s hung up about that, then hanging out with me isn’t going to help because standing next to someone whom people tend to think is in her early- to mid-twenties will only underscore the fact that you’re significantly older. She gets upset when people think she’s my mother, but the fact is, she IS literally old enough to be my mother. But aren’t MILFs still in? Or are they not? I don’t know.

She’s a total cougar though. She likes younger guys, so I guess that’s why she’s so concerned about appearing youthful. She gets a good amount of play though. Saturday night as the bar was closing I was going to walk out with her but she was chatting up some young guy and they seemed like they wanted to be in each other’s company for a while longer, so I just let them be.

I’m not sure if it’ll cramp my style or not to hang out with a woman that people think is my mom, but I like her.

Sunday night and last night, it was just more of the same. More drinking, more antics. I’ve had a lot of fun with my friends, but I’m extremely disappointed that I spent that much money on nonsense. C’est la vie, I guess.