Are you ready for the next story you didn’t know you needed, but now that it’s here you’re like, “I mean, I guess?”
One Monday night, in a week not so far, far away…
I had a date. A first date. There was no prior planning of this date happening, except the girl saying “come meet me at this janky sports bar in Culver City,” and me saying, “yes m’am.” But she didn’t say “come meet me,” she said “come rescue me.” Whereas I would be going on my first date of the night, the girl was currently already on her first date. And it sounded like things were not going well.
But I went over there. Because by god, I am a classy man. And I accept nothing less than being a woman’s “#2 date of the night”.
So I walk into the bar and order my first drink in two weeks. It was a challenge, those two weeks, let me tell you that. It was a self-imposed drinking ban that I was adamant about upholding. And in that timespan, I found marijuana edibles to be a good alternative. In fact, I had just eaten the remainder of my stash that day. I wasn’t even planning on going out until this chick hit me up.
Let’s give her a name. Her name is… uh. Hold on a second. I usually give characters in my stories an alias, which is a variation on their real name.
But I can’t even remember her real name.
Which, oh I remember it, it’s Kalina.
OH FUCK.
I’ve gone and done it now. I said her real name.
(*sighs*)
Okay forget it. Forget I said that.
I’m, oh dear me, ya know what let’s just call her Kali! Okay? Is that alright with you? GOD!
So Kali appears from somewhere behind me and takes a seat at the bar next to me. She’s not what I expected her to look like, which isn’t always a bad thing. She’s definitely thicker than her pics had led me to believe. Which is marvelous because skinny bitches can fuck right off.
Kali starts to tell me about this date she was just on. The guy showed up to the date, already 4 whiskey-and-cokes deep. That’s bold. Especially if you can marathon your way to the finish line. This guy, could not. He got too fucking plastered and started acting like a crass cockhead. Kali told me about how he kept trying to rub her leg while saying “babe… babe…. babe…” She had had enough. So she left his ass.
I had a brilliant idea. I decide to attempt the same thing as the guy. I rub her leg with the back of my hand, riding it slowly up and down her leg.
“Babe… babe… babe…”
She doesn’t shy away, but she laughs.
That’s when I knew that I WAS IN.
And so we start chatting. Hard. Like, some of the hardest chatting you’ve ever seen. The topic of karaoke comes up, and I mention my favorite karaoke place and she’s like “Let’s go,” and I’m like, “Yeah, we’ll have to go sometime,” and she’s like “No, let’s go right now,” and I’m like “BITCH IS YOU FOR REAL??”
And she was like, “Did you say something?” and I was like, “Nah.”
She calls the Uber over there, I take care of her one beer (since she had already been drinking on the previous date), and we are off to the Japanese-style karaoke place.
Of course, routine dictates that you have to go to the Japanese grocery store first to buy booze. And then you have to sneak the booze into the karaoke spot, so we bought a bunch of unnecessary seaweed snacks and sesame cookies and piled them right on top of our beers.
Let me just say, that anytime a girl allows me to bring her to this karaoke spot, I am already giving her two thumbs up—maybe even three (the third, being my weiner).
We successfully infiltrated the place with our beers without the detection of the lone worker on staff, a Vietnamese exchange student who seemed devoid of fun in his life and adamant about tossing out anyone he caught drinking inside.
When we got into the room, I turned the lights off so we’d be hidden under the cloak of darkness, put the open beers on the floor, and so began the frenzy of us singing our heads off, one song after another. And then we did a duet. And then she starts rubbing my trouser snake over the top of my pants.
This date is going prosperously.
We spend the remainder of our hour of rented room time brushing each other’s genitals over the top of our pants before the Vietnamese exchange student knocks on the door, signifying that our time is up.
It would have been a great date had it ended there; but it didn’t end there.
Kali proposes we go to her favorite bar in Santa Monica, and we summon another Uber to take us right on over.
The bar is closed. Because… it’s a holiday, apparently? That would’ve explained why I didn’t have to work on a Monday… I’m not a genius when it comes to these things.
Thankfully she’s a super genius and thought to check Google maps for any other bars nearby. She discovers one called Mama’s just three blocks away. We walk on over.
There are like three people in there. Which doesn’t matter, because they have a goddamn ping pong table.
We get some beers and I start putting a whooping on her ass in ping pong. She’s no match for a guy who has played ping pong once in the last four years. The game ends abruptly when she walks over and slips me some tongue.
“It’s too bad we have to wait until Tokyo,” she says, cloyingly.
Oh yeah! At some point earlier in the night, we agreed that we wouldn’t have sex until we were both visiting Tokyo on solo trips at the end of the year. I’m not sure why I agreed to this.
We leave Mama’s.
And then literally the FIRST THING she says when we go outside is “go get some condoms and you could fuck me in the alley.”
My brain struggled to digest this statement:
Condoms. Fuck me. Alley. Fuck me. Condoms. Colombia. Chocoramo. Bacon. Bitcoin. Condoms. Condoms. No condoms? No, CONDOMS. 7-11. 7-11. 7-11!!
There was a 7-11 two blocks back, close to the closed bar. My glorious condoms await me there.
I swim the streets like a shark focused on it’s prey. Nothing can stop me. Not even Kali’s pleas for me to slow down. I’M ON A MISSION, WOMAN!
I get to 7-11, and as I’m speed-walking through the front doors, I hear Kali say behind me, “They better be Magnums.”
As if they make any condoms other than Magnums!
Inside the store, I pat myself down to confirm that I have my keys, my credit card, and $3 dollars in my pockets.
…Make that $1, after I buy the vagabond in line in front of me a coffee just to get him the FUCK outta my way. We are on a schedule here folks! Time is of the essense.
I get to the register with the box of Magnums and put them on the table. I slap my card down as well.
How cool must I look right now? Just a guy in line at 7-11 sometime past midnight, buying a box of large condoms while my wench waits outside for me.
“Sorry sir, our network is down right now.”
I… don’t look cool at all right now.
Through a tone of complete bewilderment, I demand answers. “What do you mean, your network is down?”
“We cannot take credit cards or debit right now. Total system is down, sir.”
What was this SHIT ass timing!?
I thought about bartering for it. I was going to see if he’d open the box and sell me one condom for my lone dollar. In my drunken, horny state, it sounded like a good idea. Then I looked behind me in line and saw all these fucking people behind me. Watching me. Judging me.
Then I considered asking someone to help buy me the condoms. This sounded like a better idea. Surely someone amongst this line of heathens could sympathize with my plight?
But then I considered it further. Condoms were like $5.99. I had… $1. It wouldn’t be someone lending me money as much as it would be someone just buying me the whole thing. And this crowd did not like the crowd that gets laid. This looked like the crowd that would go out on a midnight run to buy a single tin can of Chef Boyardee Ravioli.
I walked out of 7-11 with my head down.
“You got the Magnums?”
“Their fucking systems are down! And I don’t have cash.”
She didn’t have cash either.
Just when it looked like all hope was lost, she said, “I think I have some condoms at my Mom’s.”
And in that instant, I knew that our next destination would be her Mama’s house.
Make that our second destination. First we had to walk back three blocks to where Mama’s (the bar) was.
For just outside the bar, in a random patch of bushes, we had stored our leftover beers and snacks from the karaoke place. We were going to need those snacks beers to keep this voyage going.
With the bag recovered, we called a Lyft.
I had questions, concerns, and doubts… which I wasn’t asking because I was horny.
The Lyft pulled up and I got in, ready for whatever await me.
Whatever await me… at Mama’s house.
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