In retrospect, moments before the great hour...

There was a bit of an epiphany between my hetero-soul mate and I this evening at a midnight cookout we had at my house.

Because its not humanly possible to be up to no good EVERY night of the week. We'll also use this blog to keep track of our past misdeeds. We came to this conclusion only after (x)amount of beer and MD-20/20, as our past "victories" will hopefully outshine our future endeavors.

At any rate...

submitted for the approval of the midnight society I'll weave the tale of, "The Time I Forgot That Girls Name Right After We Had Sex."

Just so we're all clear, I am not in any way what people would call a "smooth operator". My communication skills are often awkwardly elaborate, riddled with hyperbole and all in all a bit extravagant. This night starts off like many of my new found nights have; relaxing with friends, shithousewasted. Just a couple of reasonable associates left in the house after the majority of what could call a sub-sect of a party have already gone home. A few chums... and some Skirt. I give the Skirt proper noun status only because, as the title of our story will remind you, I forgot her name. Casual friend conversation coupled with drunk Skirt jabber* pepper the dwindling hours on the porch. This carries on for some time before, in my stupor, I decide I need to get laid and tell her, "its time for bed".


"its time for bed"


I don't talk like that. But in my defense, there is only so much prancing and chit chat a person can make before they decide that its time to practice making children with a cute girl who's too drunk to make sense. As a matter of fact I can't think of anyone i know who just tells some freckle-nosed little strumpet they don't know AT ALL to "go to bed". where does that happen? Iowa? Vienna? somewhere people lock their daughters in the basement and sire whole generations that never meet the world outside? or anywhere a winning football game has just gone down and the hoes just don't know any better....? perhaps.

feigning cutsie ignorant sillyness. this girl proceeds to fight "bedtime" until I agree to stay up and play cards with her in bed(this right here is the big WTF no really, What the Fuck? Cards? In bed? fucking creepy). While laying in bed and playing an obviously downhill game of texas hold 'em(there are no chips, and i have NEVER EVER IN MY WHOLE FUCKING LIFE TIME bothered to learn how to play anything that was not a drinking game) she starts to step up the creepiness.

as in, Makes delightful and intelligent conversation about Kurt Vonnegut. She goes from making not a lick of sense and me wanting to go to bed i'm so drunk to..."so i have this tattoo from some line in 'hocus pocus'..."

startlingly stimulating conversation leads to some of the most intense dirty mouthed whore talk I have EVER, in my whole fucking life EVER heard come out of a woman's mouth. it was borderline comical. however I won't share so I can keep some inch of this girls anonymity safe. Because some of the things she was saying, wooo weeee! with my luck, someone would read this and recognize that unique language of "whore".

[[[penetration ensues]]]

then, post coitus, we continue speaking, laughing, blah blah blah. nothing romantic or anything like that, but nice civil conversation. the only thing is,

she's using my name. much more than necessery.

because she knows I've forgotten her's,
surely she's noticed it by now.
and then she asks.
and of course
I tell her
uhm no?
guess

uhm
ok

"******"

and its wrong

(ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME! how the fuck do you forget a girls name. after you have sex with her? how did i let it get to sex without committing her name to memory first? when did this start happening to me?)

She still slept over and was even better than I could hope for sexually the next morning.


i don't hope for much early in the morning by the way. at least not sexually.