Have you ever had those nights where you go, “F*#k this, let’s see what happens!” I don’t have them that often, but when they happen…watch out single, semi-attractive men out for a fun night! You know there’s one in every crowd. Don’t deny it, it may be you. I’m not ashamed, and you shouldn’t be either! Embrace your inner make-out whore! Who cares if you can’t remember what they looked like or even their names! That’s not a requirement!!
Since I’m living in the real world and am at the age where I look down my nose at young drunk college girls, I reserve the “Let’s act like we’re freshman again” night for once every few months. My last night like this was in November, so apparently I was due. A few weeks ago, a girlfriend and I planned a Saturday night of sushi and drinks. I began the evening thinking this was going to be a classy night. Eat some sushi, and then enjoy a few glasses of wine at a nice bar, where the mature adults go.
Welp….Not. So. Much.
Dinner, then 3 bars later is where the fun began. Let me state that I’m not even a fan of bar hopping in one night out. I prefer to stay at one place and have a good time. Apparently, in my “mature adult” stage, I’ve changed my opinion…Let’s also mention the alcohol that is being consumed. I’m a beer or wine drinker. I only drink liquor if it’s tequila and normally it’s got to be in a margarita (that should say something LOL). This evening, I decided to change it up. Let’s have some beer, some wine, oh and why the hell not? Some liquor (drinks and shots). So at bar #3 I announce, from my perch on my bar stool where I’m chair dancing, “I wanna DANCEEEEE!” Umm…okayyy.
Enter ladies to bar #4…this bar never fails to have a great band to dance to (aka…grind your ass on some rando guy). So an awesome rap band was playing and my friend and I were, of course, front row center getting our inner black girls on. Enter guy number 1…yep that’s right number 1. We’re dancing, having a good time; so of course, I think “Hey, he’s cute enough! Let’s make out!” So…we did. Guy 1 started to annoy me in my drunkenness and I sent him on his merry way. Blessings on the next girl to get with him!
The hunt for a new dance partner begins.
“Why helloooo fella number 2! You look like you’ll do!!”
We danced, and let’s be honest, my memory’s a little hazy, but apparently as a thanks-for-dancing gift, I decide to bestow him with my kisses. You’re welcome! Obviously the night ended like any good night during your freshman year-Taco Bell at 2:30 AM.
So to sum up…2 guys…same bar…same night. Obviously pretty low on the shame-o-meter, but I don’t think I’ve done that before! I can’t say it was on my bucket list, but it was pretty damn fun!
Best Friend Disclaimer:
For the record, the last paragraph in this post is a bold faced lie (Sorry Ma’am, I love you, but I can’t subject our readers to such an injustice). Homegirl has made out with multiple men in a night… more than one, perhaps less than five. Would we really have a blog like this if our most risqué story was about how we kissed more than one guy in a night? NOPE! The process of contributing to this blog is going to test our “shame-o-meter” as you say… it’s time we embrace, for the sake of our readers, just how low we’ve stooped, how naked we’ve got, and how fast we’ve run out of a frat house at 7:30am on Sunday morning.
