Monday, November 26, 2007

Two Girls, One Husband, and a Head Injury

When I had a corporate gig I used to hang out in the same bar every day after work, and sometimes the “happy hour” went late into the night.  I eventually bought the bar when I left my corporate job, figuring it would save me money in the long run.  When I was still at my “normal” job I used to work in the same building as this one girl.  We didn’t know each other (worked in different departments on different floors), but saw each other on a daily basis.

We were both at my bar one night and we started talking.  Not long thereafter, the conversation turned to the fact that her husband was out of town for the night and she was interested in hooking up.  One problem: my “friend” was coming into town that night to stay at my house on her way to Georgia.  She had just taken a new job and wanted to split up the trip, so I told her to meet me at my bar.  We had been sleeping together on and off for about 10 years whenever we saw each other (a few times a year).  I had no interest in being with this chick romantically, but she had other ideas despite my open communication with her.

When my friend arrived at the bar she only stayed for about 20 minutes and then got bitchy with me since I was all over the other chick.  She ordered me to give her directions to my house which I did, and then she took off.  About an hour later the other girl and I decided there was no reason to delay the inevitable, so we headed to my house.  Now you’re probably wondering why I would bring another girl to my house when there was already one there, and I don’t have a good answer.

I was driving a Porsche at the time which only had 2 seats, and small seats at that.  It was about a 20-minute drive to my house, and as soon as we left the parking lot the girl was all over me.  She was rubbing me, trying to make out with me, grabbing certain parts, you get the picture.  We got on the highway and by that time she had stripped down naked.  Whew, this girl was ready!  Boy was she.  She got out of her seat and straddled me.  Imagine doing 80 mph down the highway with the top down and a girl trying to ride you.  I couldn’t see shit, and I’m amazed we didn’t get into an accident.

We did eventually make it to my house, and at that point I was thinking about how I was going to deal with the friend.  We just went inside quietly and hopped on the couch.  My bedroom door was closed so I knew the friend was in there, but so were my condoms.  I went in quietly and of course the chick was wide awake waiting for me.  I grabbed a condom from the dresser and started to leave and she said “oh no, fuck that”.  She followed me out of my room making a scene, and the other chick apparently forgot I had a friend staying the night.  They started yelling at each other, and then ganged up on me.  The friend smacked me across the face and the other girl left through the front door.  Following the one I had more interest in hooking up with I went out the front door as well.  We sat in the middle of the driveway talking for a little while, and for some reason she thought my friend was really my wife.  Seemed like a strange thing to get pissed about when she herself was married and her husband out of town.  She had a brand new pack of cigarettes and chucked them at me.  The corner of the pack hit me square in the forehead, and all I could think of was in Tommy Boy: “Son of a….that’s gonna leave a mark”.  My friend came out about that time, yelled that I had “successfully ruined 10 years of friendship in one night” and left for Georgia.

I was able to patch things up briefly with the other girl and we went inside (my hand on my forehead) to finish what we had started.  It was a little annoying that she was on the phone with her husband for part of the time we were going at it, but I guess you take what you can get.  It took me about a month to patch things up with the friend, and we’ve been back to normal ever since.  I still see the other chick once in a while, and she’s usually with her husband, so it’s always awkward.

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