Filed under: birds and bees | Tags: alcohol, alexis, anastasia, boyfriends, dating, friendship, humor, kissing, relationships, sex, women
I am going to share some things with you from times that I should have called in an early night, but didn’t. This way you can learn from my mistakes and call it a night before these things happen!
1. When you wake up in someone else’s clothes and look over and see a naked hairy man snorting a line of coke off the bedside table – you probably shoulda called it a night.
2. When you wake up on a couch with your best friend’s brother who is three years younger than you, his hand down your shirt and beer bottles and pizza scattered all over the table – you probably shoulda called it a night.
3. If you wake up in the basement of a football player’s house wearing the remains of a fairy costume next to an uncircumcised man and you have to do the walk of shame through their apartment over the other football player you were previously hooking up with only to return to your home where your panties were raided and spread all over the house and blood smeared on the walls from a “wrestling” injury – you probably shoulda called it a night.
4. If you wake up next to your best friend’s ex-boyfriend lying in your bed while your best friend is in the next room – you probably shoulda called it a night.
5. If the van door suddenly jolts open to reveal your friend who is in love with you staring at you in horror because you are naked and your current lover’s parts are still inside you – you probably shoulda called it a night.
6. When you wake up and your current lover is frantically trying to find one of the condoms from your night of fun – only for the condom to reveal itself later stuck in “places” – you probably shoulda called it a night.
7. When you wake up in Coney Island on the subway train, covered in puke and have no idea how to get to Brooklyn – you probably shoulda called it a night.
Yeah when you wind up here and can't figure out how to get to Brooklyn, you must have had a rough night - because this is the last stop in BK
8. If you and your friend end up in a random apartment lying next to practical strangers and they ask you to shower with them the next morning – you and your friend probably shoulda called it a night.
9. When you wake up covered from head to toe in stale beer and you have two stamps from the location where you partied the night before, stamped on your nipples – you shoulda called it a night.
10. When you wake up cuddling with an old friend, a bloody elbow, a fat lip from being punched in the mouth and 18 text messages from a desperate man – you probably shoulda called it a night.
- Alexis Patron
Filed under: this and that | Tags: anastasia, dating, kissing, relationships, sex, women
Oh shit. Alcoholic, promiscuous, sporadic, awkward, smoking-obsessed Anastasia is now accountable to someone. Gone are the days of mindless, drunken bar make outs. Goodbye to flings with ex boyfriends and hookups. In a short two weeks (maybe four days of which I spent sober,) I inked my name on one of those relationship contracts most of my friends are so fond of. Think of what this means: pop-ins, phone calls, date nights, sleepovers, and all the limitless unknown I’m soon to uncover again. This is sounding like I’m trapped, scared and or ready to run. You name it. But to be fair, I haven’t been in a relationship for well over two years. It’s new again, like that sweater that’s so pretty and looks soft but really needs to be washed a few times and broken in. So, I’m reminding myself of the good parts too: cuddling on rainy Sundays, having someone miss you when you’re gone, back rubs, cooking dinners together. All the little things I once loved before I let cynicism dominate any budding relationship.
So yeah. I’m dating someone and she’s great.
Wait, what?
Yep, friends. You read that right. Gone also are the days of blow jobs and baby scares. I’m dating a woman. And it’s not as strange or unfamiliar as I expected. But we’ll get to that part eventually.
How this happened is quite the epic story, all too new and personal to spill to the internet machine just yet. To sum it up, it began with two friends, feelings developed, and a risk was taken. Knock on wood, fingers crossed, rub your lucky rabbit’s foot for me- that risk has paid off so far. If a friendship hadn’t been on the line, I wouldn’t have hesitated to rush into sex or a relationship. But since it was, I took it slow.
I haven’t told many people about my new beau…or lady beau, I should say. When not under the anonymity of the internet, I prefer to keep my personal conquests and antics to myself and a close few who proved themselves trustworthy. I know, this is a completely contradictory statement coming from someone who spills her soul and intimacies with strangers via a tiny little blog.
But of those who are not in my immediate circle of friends who saw romance blooming when I did my best to keep it hidden beneath bottles of gin and poorly-thought out jokes, there have been a few questions. What’s is dating a woman like? How is the sex compared to sex with men? Are you gay?
All valid questions. So here are some answers:
What dating a woman is like (so far)
I thought I understood my friends who embarked on their first lesbian relationships while considering themselves mostly straight but you’ll never fully understand until you’re face is thigh-deep at three in the morning. Women are soft. Women are considerate. Women are giving. Women read other women better than any man on his best day. And none of this is to discredit men, because some of my best friends are men who are considerate and giving creatures. But the level of unspoken communication that occurs between two women versus a man and a woman is almost unbelievable. I haven’t come across an instance where “I’m fine” actually meant the opposite in our relationship. Because we don’t fuck around with games and poor communication. When I don’t want to think or talk, I tell her and she respects it. When she wants to discuss our status, she tells me and we do.
At the same time, women can be tricky and slightly more moody than men. I know this because I see it in myself and while I haven’t come across it in my relationship thus far, I’m bracing myself.
How is the sex compared to sex with men
I’ll answer this fully when you tell me how to compare apples to oranges. Sex with a woman versus sex with a man are two completely different entities that comparing the two would ultimately demean both experiences.
What I can tell you, however, is that sex with a woman is similar to a wrestling tag team match: your turn, my turn, your turn, my turn, tag in, tag out, tag in, tag out. When you know your partner’s sex organ isn’t going to explode and go soft, you’re a lot less concerned with getting yours and can focus on giving more.
Am I gay
I consider myself the luckiest girl on earth who is dating an out, open lesbian. She has never asked this question of me, never pushed me to tell her one way or the other. Do I think I am gay? No. I do not. Call it denial if you’d like. Fine. I’m still attracted to men (most notably on a Jake Gyllenhaal kick right now.) but am committed to a woman because she’s amazing and makes my head spin. Sexuality is fluid. If you consider yourself one hundred percent straight or one hundred percent gay, you’re lying. And that’s fine, should that be the route you chose to take. Because perhaps more important than knowing where on the scale you lay is knowing that sexuality is incredibly personal, intimate and need only to be shared with those you see fit.
Bottom line: she’s awesome and I just doubled my wardrobe.
-Anastasia Beam
Filed under: this and that | Tags: 2009, alcohol, alexis, boyfriends, dating, las vegas, men, new year, relationships, sex
I just wanted to take the time to be a little nostalgic as this year comes to a close and I look back over the last twelve months. Ha! Who am I kidding, 2009 sucked. I am very much looking forward to 2010. I would like to bring you all through the journey of my last twelve months.
January: Dating a drug addict, awesome. Earnest starts to like me. Anastasia and I decide to start this blog!!
February: Sleep with my marine friend who acts like a 12-yr-old girl. Decide to join the Navy as an officer.
March: Applying to the Navy. Things with Earnest really heat up.
April: Finish applying to the Navy, the process takes a long time. Still trying to get rid of Earnest.
May: Decide against the commitment of the Navy. Decide to go celibate for six months. Hit up Vegas with my roommates from college for a smashing good time.
June: Best friend gets married – make horrible decisions. Few dates with hot New Zealander.
July: Anastasia and I are too busy being crazy during the summer months to write anything.
August: I go to Wisconsin to visit old friends – oh wait, I haven’t written about that yet – yeah that was a good time, look forward to that story soon!
September: Disaster with New Zealander strikes.
October: Still celibate and not by choice.
November: Travel to Bali on a yoga retreat! It was my birthday present to myself. Oh and along the way I seemed to have sort of married my yoga teacher? Strange.
December: Christmas in Wisconsin and Minnesota, attended a killer Green Bay Packer game, and ended this year quite nicely.
All in all this year was not as bad as 2008, but I have a feeling that 2010 is going to be phenomenal. Especially since I get to visit Anastasia in two weeks! Oh the ruckus we will cause.
-Alexis Patron
Filed under: birds and bees | Tags: alcohol, alexis, boyfriends, commitment, dating, kissing, men, relationships, sex
My passion.
I have an obsession with unavailable men, as Anastasia so lovingly pointed out yesterday in conversation.
Let’s do a play-by-play:
Alexis: Hey, I’m coming to visit you soon.
Anastasia: Awesome.
Alexis: So have you decided if you’re actually in a relationship with that girl?
Anastasia: Fuck if I tell you. You come and visit and if I’m in a relationship with her, you’ll make out with her and ruin my life.
God, It’s so true. Apparently I have a thing for unattainable goals (and by goals, I mean humans). It’s not on purpose. I just happen to fall for people in relationships. Something tells me it has to do with commitment and my utter fear of the word. Therefore, if I subconsciously seek unavailable men, commitment will never be an issue. Healthy, very healthy.
I’m not a bitch. It’s not something I seek to do; I just crush on spoken-for men. I never act on these crushes…well, except for on my birthday a few weeks ago.
I’ve been crushing on this dancer friend of mine, par for the course since I’m sure his girlfriend is lovely. I would have never done anything under any other circumstances.
The situation: my birthday, drunk, his arm around me. Logically, after a few shorts of tequila, I attempted to kiss him? The tequila pretty much erased my memory of the evening. The world may never know if this actually happened, but I have a strongly undeniable feeling that it did. I definitely shoulda called it a night before the shots started.
I’m not proud of my action but it made me think of the past and my history of crushes in relationships. The list is much longer than I expected. I don’t want to break up the relationships of these men but knowing their relationship makes it unrealistic for them to reciprocate feelings, therefore I wouldn’t have to worry about commitment. My innocent crushes remain innocent and avoid complication.
Complication only sparks when I make dumb ass mistakes.
Ah commitment. A seemingly easy task for most people. However, I cannot seem to take that leap. I won’t even commit to a date a week in advance. Too much may happen between Monday and Friday, I may like someone else, something better may come along… You just never know. Hence why most men don’t stick around for too long. They find the “hard-to-get” game that they think I’m playing, fun and quirky in the beginning. Until they realize I’m just never “available.”
I blame my commitment issues on my father. Isn’t that what most daughters do? My dad had quite a few girlfriends when I was growing up. I learned fast and young to never get attached. They always left. When he finally met one that stuck around for awhile, I was so taken aback by the possibility of someone staying around that I tried everything I could to drive her away. Including hiding under the bed when I first met her to crying and slamming my bedroom door when I found out they got engaged.
As I grow up I realize my petty fear of commitment is completely ridiculous and is something I need to get over fast if I ever hope to get married. In attempts to get over this fear, I still have not managed to rid myself of the desire of unavailable men or completely inappropriate men. Those who I do tend to date are ones that I would never have any sort of a future with… a.k.a a drug addict, someone who lives in Texas, a traveling yacht employee… etc.
To catch up on my latest failed dating adventures:
-Alexis Patron
Filed under: this and that | Tags: alcohol, ambiguity, anastasia, dating, feelings, friendship, relationships, sex, women
I hate that word. Answers are what I want. Yet, ambiguity is all I seem to get. Many shades of gray; never black or white. Meeting every potentially monumental life decision at a hypothetical fork in the road is frustrating. Downright tiring, even.
So, I seek facts in a vain attempt to piece the puzzle together. This is what I know:
- I want to smoke more than my lungs allow.
- Drinking more than my liver approves of is a nightly routine.
- My feelings have changed, they have gone from lovely, wish-the-best-for-a friend to do I have romantic feelings for said friend?
- I am female.
- Said friend is also female-of the lesbian sort.
The fact that my only desire is to smoke and drink myself into obliteration is a blatant sign that I’m lost right now.
So here I am: confused. I hate the word “confused” as much as I hate the word “ambiguous.”
Yes, I am confused. My relationship with my friend is ambiguous. The sooner I own up to these detestable words the sooner I will sort this out, hypothetically, right?
Here’s the thing: I pride myself on being an open-minded individual. I pride myself on seeking out unique traits and characteristics in friends and adopting them as my own. I would have never discovered martinis and Thai food otherwise. Ask Alexis, I’ve always said I wouldn’t rule out the chance of dating a woman if I thought, genuinely, the relationship would provide a chance for pure happiness. And I don’t understand those who disagree with this mentality.
But it’s so easy to preach accepting words when the prospect isn’t staring you in the face, waiting for you to make a decision one way or the other. I am staring down the barrel of a loaded shotgun, afraid to move in any direction for fear of accidentally setting off the trigger. Have you any idea what this feels like? I doubt it, and if so, offer guidance…please.
More facts are in order:
- I’ve never, ever, been attracted to a female the way I am now.
- And even since this “discovery,” I’ve never noticed a woman walking down the street and thought to myself “Nice titties, girl. Come home with me”
- This, I believe, is exclusively an attraction to the person while ignoring gender.
It’s one thing to be attracted to someone’s personality; to their sense of humor; to the way they handle adverse situations or their taste in music. It’s a completely different ballgame, for me at least, to be attracted to someone’s body; their touch; their sexuality.
I am attracted to her personality and sense of humor. We compliment each other well. While I don’t always agree with the way she handles those bigger-than-thou life situations, I enjoy listening to her and talking through them. Our conversations give me a sense of pride in her decisions while providing valuable learning opportunities. And, honestly, I couldn’t be more grateful. I understand that the last few sentences sound like an ill-thought cover letter, but they are honest.
But that word-confusion-rears it’s ugly little head here. If I’m going to be brutally honest (and I might as well; what better platform than here?) I do like her touch. Her hugs and back rubs improve lousy days and ease my troubled mind. But even in my most drunken state, I’ve never thought it would be mind blowing to sleep with her; or on the other hand, how horrid it would be. Identifying solely as a straight female up until this point has protected me. I’m wrapped tight in a blanket of indifference; of ambiguity.
How can I honestly say to myself that I wouldn’t like something if I’ve never tried it? That would limit life experiences and deny the opportunity of growing as a woman; as a human, even. I pity those who, so rigid in thoughts from either upbringing or ignorance, would begrudge opportunity for personal growth. I don’t want that, at all. I don’t want to ruin an opportunity that could open my eyes to a completely new mentality and view of life.
But, at the same time, I don’t want to involve a friend’s feelings when I’m not certain of the outcome. If my feelings; my thoughts; my emotions were the only thing at stake, I would jump, jump, jump. I would, without a moment’s thought of anyone’s opinion. It’s reckless, yes, but at the very least, this would result in part of me opening and closing quickly. Ambiguity would disappear as fast as my next drink or cigarette. At most, maybe, perhaps, possibly, I would discover a new piece of me that lay dormant for years, for whatever reason, and could adjust accordingly in future endeavors.
The last set of facts:
- She likes me.
- She’s interested in a romantic relationship… if I am.
We’ve had endless conversations that circle about our “situation”, resulting in both of us shaking our heads in our hands while saying with bated breath “I don’t know, I don’t know.” So, how can I honestly take that plunge knowing a friendship that’s important to me and feelings are at risk? How can I look myself in the mirror each morning knowing I’m playing with someone’s heart and emotions so carelessly and…ambiguously.
I’m not sure I can do that. The only thing I’m certain of right now is that I don’t know what to do and I don’t know how to figure it out. No matter how much I write and talk about this, I’ll walk this road alone. And I’m terrified to take a step in the wrong direction. Ambiguity: I really do hate that word.
-Anastasia Beam
Filed under: birds and bees | Tags: alcohol, alexis, bali, bisexual, facebook, gin, husband, indonesia, marriage, men, ring, sex, wedding, wife, women, yoga
Well sort of…
Traveling is always so much fun. Especially when it is international travel. Going abroad to a new country allows for the possibility for the traveler to “let loose.” Well in my case I tend to “let loose” on any given occasion, but apparently found my recent trip to Bali, Indonesia an occasion to REALLY let loose.
I figured since Bali in on the other side of the world the concept of “what happens in [insert vacation destination] stays in [said location,]” to be incredibly true. How would anyone find out about what I did in Bali?
Damn facebook. That’s how.
With the technology revolution, nothing is private anymore. Everyone is bound to find out everything down to the tiniest little mistake you make while on vacation in a foreign country. Nonetheless…..I have an extremely hard time keeping secrets about myself actually secret.
So, of course in light of my new “marriage” I had to tell everyone.
I had a wonderful time in Bali. I was there on a yoga retreat, which was pristine. However, once the three hours of yoga wrapped up for the day… the drinking commenced. Obviously. No better way to regain burned calories than with alcohol.
The biggest drinker of them all? My yoga instructor. Ironic. So, I, of course, happily joined the festivities and purchased a bottle of gin for $2. Anastasia (the biggest gin whore of them all) is so jealous…
Mix my eight months of abstinence (not on purpose,) with a little alcohol, the heat of the equator and a plethora of flexible men doing yoga and you, my friends, have a recipe for fucking disaster. Luckily, all the men I met were gay. Well, at least I thought they were. Until one unfortunate night when I learned of their bisexuality. Queue hormones.
I did not have sex. I wanted to have sex. But no sex happened. So naturally, instead I spiritually married a bisexual man.
It all started when the Balinese thought that my yoga instructor, lets call him Yani, and I were husband and wife. So of course we ran with it and Yani referred to me as his wife for the rest of the trip. I thought it was all fun and games until the concept of “consummating” our marriage came up. I said I wouldn’t put out. (I haven’t quite sorted my feelings on sleeping with a bisexual man yet…) So my “husband” told me he’d be forced to take a second wife who would put out.
I became first wife. It was a fun game. Until I started to realize that he thought of me as actually “spiritually” being his wife.
It wasn’t solidified until he bought me a ring. Yes, a ring. We now have matching wedding rings that have symbols of the earth carved into them. He bought me this ring to symbolize our spiritual union to each other and the earth? Hell if I know, he’s a yoga teacher, it’s all spiritual.
I do not wear the ring on my ring finger, because I would like to get laid sometime, so I wear it on my index finger.
All in all, I did not make too many bad decisions, I only kissed two men, one of which was my husband, and I didn’t fuck any inappropriate people. I only got married, so I’d chock up this trip to a success.
Weddings in Bali are so much better than in Vegas.
-Alexis Patron
Filed under: douche baggery | Tags: alexis, boyfriends, dating, girlfriend, relationships, sex, sex-ting, tequila, women
I never wanted to become the “other woman.”
It all began very innocently.
Two drunk friends upping the stakes of a regular game of fooseball. If he won, I’d kiss him, if I won… well I don’t think I got anything out of it. Doesn’t matter anyways, I lost and had to kiss him. Innocent turned into PG 13 when one kiss turned into full make-out outside in the freezing Wisconsin winter air.
Ah, but how innocent kissing turned into fucking. At his parent’s house by the way. While his mom was home. It was magical. Especially since she came and watched TV with us later…
The post-sex awkwardness did not exist. I don’t live there, so we remained friends and parted ways. It was one of those post-sex-high-five then peace out situations, very unattached and unemotional. That is my favorite situation. Of course, now every time I go back to visit I have a fuck buddy.
The second time I had a vacation romp with my old friend was during a family wedding that I swung by his work and had a little fun. His work? A funeral home. Enough said.
We didn’t really keep in touch in between our wild sexual encounters, until one day when he out of the blue emailed me. Thus beginning our email/texting long distance sex game.
We were both young, single and bored. Why not send naked pictures and talk dirty?
I had never done the cyber sex thing so I was nervous. The first picture I sent was of my butt. Very PG 13. I kept it this way out of fear that he’d show our mutual friends or he’d send them to my father. All of which would be a bad situation. We continued on the PG 13 track for months, just emailing pictures, nothing too exciting. Plus he would always mention how much “fun” we had during my visits. To be honest, the sex wasn’t great, but I enjoy the concept of having vacation sex.
After a few months of our email affair, the emails ended. I heard through the grapevine he got a girlfriend. I was bored of the cyber sex anyways, so it was good for me. Plus my fear of them ending up on facebook kept me from wanting more.
One night however, after I had stumbled home from the bar at 5am NYC time, I got a text.
“How are you? I miss our fun.”
Huh, maybe he broke up with the chica.
In fact, no he hadn’t. He still wanted to do pictures. Turns out, after two months of dating the girl, he wanted more of my action. Something I wouldn’t have wanted to offer if I was sober. Three shots of tequila and two gin martinis said different. Alcohol = horny. And I was alone.
The filter I had the previous months flew out the window as did my morals. PG 13 turned to R. He could ask me to take a picture of anything and I did it. Of course he reciprocated. Once I sobered up, I freaked out about the girlfriend thing. He said he deleted the pictures and she’d never know. What a classy fella.
In my drunken/depression months of early 2008, this continued often. Sex-ting had become the only relationship that I had. I never wanted to be the other woman and I never actually slept with him again, but I still felt like we were cheating.
Now, more than a year later it hasn’t stopped. And he is now engaged. I’ve gotten him to stop for months by saying I didn’t want to do it anymore, but he is addicted I think. He will ask me if I want a picture, I will say no and he will send one anyways. I have so many penis pictures on my phone, it’s disturbing. I delete them when I remember. He doesn’t even send them at appropriate times, like 3am on a Saturday. Now they come when I’m having dinner with my parents, or eating breakfast on a Tuesday. It’s very strange. He has put me in the category of the “other” woman and I don’t know how to get out of it. And he’s ENGAGED!
He talks about wanting to fuck me when I come visit, I just don’t know how someone can be engaged, yet completely dishonest.
I don’t reciprocate anymore with the pictures or sex conversations, but when I get drunk… well lets just hope I don’t get that drunk again.
I really don’t find looking at penis pictures to be any sort of a turn on, so I am unsure as to why he keeps sending them!
- Alexis Patron
Filed under: this and that | Tags: alexis, boyfriends, dating, men, relationships, sex, sex-ting, women
I admit that I have wondered what it would be like to be the “other woman,” but never have done it, nor do I think I would. Well, I did “accidentally” make-out with my boss who had a girlfriend, but that was just a drunken time. I’ve never dated a married man. I just don’t think I could do that. The problem is, however, I’m pretty damn close to having an affair with a taken man. And I don’t know how I ended up there.
I read the following article yesterday and decided I should write about my “sex-ting” relationship I’ve been in for the last two years. Read this article and look forward to my story about how an innocent boob shot sent to a single man, turned into years of sex-ting with a now engaged man. Oh how does it happen…
- Alexis Patron
CNN – and the lessons they teach…
Thinking about being the ‘other woman?’
Like the David Letterman Debacle wasn’t bad enough, now we have the story of Steve Phillips, the ESPN analyst, who had an affair with a 22-year-old coworker.
Unfortunately for the 46-year-old sports dude and married father of four, his latest dalliance (and apparently there’ve been others before her) turned bunny boiler when he broke it off with her.
Brooke Hundley, the jilted junior, allegedly went ballistic; repeatedly emailing and calling Phillips’ long-suffering wife, tricking their 16-year-old son into an online flirtation, and then finally showing up at the family home, scaring the crap out of everyone.
Lucky for Hundley, the Phillips’s declined to press charges, but her reputation, both professionally and personally, is shot. (His too. He’s since been fired from ESPN and has entered a treatment facility.) Obviously, being some cad’s side action is always a sucker’s game, but if you’re going to do it, do it right.
Choose carefully
It’s bad enough that you’re “dating” a married guy, but when you start sleeping with someone who’s in a position of authority over you, you’re screwing yourself twice. Every good grade will be chalked up to your romance with the professor and every promotion, credited to time served on your back. Don’t kid yourself that nobody in your class or office knows, because people aren’t blind and you’re not that slick.
Don’t go home with him
Maybe he’s too cheap to pay for a hotel room, could be he secretly wants to get caught . . . then again, maybe he’s just a sociopath, but I can’t even tell you how many times I’ve heard about a marriage dude bringing his girlfriend back to the house he shares with his wife and kids — usually when everyone’s out of town, but not always. Letterman even took his mistress on vacation with his family! Whatever his motivation, resist. You’re already hurting this woman by having sex with her husband; at least have the decency to stay out of the bed they share.
Accept that you’re No. 2
Married guys will tell you a lot of things in their quest to bed you. That they haven’t slept with their [insert bitchy descriptor here] wives for [insert insanely long period of time here] and that they’re only staying together for the [kids/finances/etc.].
You need to know going in that you will always come second. (Or third. Or fourth.) Sure, you might get expensive gifts, but you’ll also be spending nearly every holiday by your lonesome, you’ll never meet his friends, and plans will be canceled on a moment’s notice if something more important (i.e., anything) comes up.
You’re not his first . . .
When an acquaintance of mine started an affair with a married coworker, she was furious when I suggested this might not be the first time he’d strayed during his very long marriage. She screamed that I was a cynic and that their love was a special flower they alone shared. (On the conference room floor.) Okay, she didn’t use the term “special flower,” but that was the gist.
A week later I got an embarrassed call back reporting that, contrary to what he’d told her, he’d been straying since his wedding day. A cheat and a liar — who would’ve guessed?!
…And probably won’t be his last
Most guys don’t leave their wives for the women they’re seeing on the side. Yes, I know — your grand passion is “different.” Snort. But what if he actually does splinter the family into bits and make a (semi) honest woman out of you? According to the Web site, “Beyond Affairs,” only 3 percent of men marry their affair partner and out of those, only 3 percent of those marriages last. And why would they? You’re committing to a relationship that was built on lies and deceit.
On second thought, maybe you want to rethink this whole “other woman” thing.
Automatically when you wake up next to someone naked after a night a drinking, your mind races. You think, “what the fuck, what the fuck did I do last night?!” Well, luckily that wasn’t the case when I woke up to a naked Brandy on that Sunday. Don’t get me wrong, I was shocked she was naked, but I had nothing to do with that. She was passed out when I got home and I didn’t realize she was naked until the next morning. Brandy, gotta love her, she’s a good friend and another fellow bridesmaid, and yes I have motorboated her boobs, but I just wasn’t planning on sleeping with her naked.
My head hurt. I don’t think I had been that hung over in forever. And awesome, my mind – complete blank. Could not remember anything from the last two hours of my night. Fantastic. I know when I don’t remember a thing it means I must have done something super stupid.
It was time for the breakfast recap… I wanted to die a little bit.
At the traditional breakfast recap, it was Kaci, Brandy, Katie, two other girlfriends, Kaci’s mom, Kaci’s boyfriend and Kaci’s brother. Kaci’s mom peaced out early because she started throwing up. Which is typical after a traditional Montana wedding.
I was sitting next to Kaci’s brother, Ryan, who I hooked up with in college. Kaci freaked out at the time. Yeah, that didn’t go so well. So I knew better than to try and do that again… well, soberly knew better.
The stories began… which all of them seemed to revolve around me. Every time they told me about another person I mouth fucked at the reception, it was like a bullet to the head. You know, when you realize you did something super stupid? Yep. As I sat next to Ryan a sneaking suspicion came upon me… I think we made out. So of course one of the girls blurts that one out, “Hey Ryan, didn’t you make out with Alexis too?” “Nope!” He answered enthusiastically. I breathed a sigh of relief, Kaci would have killed me. But I still had a sneaking suspicion that we may have…
When Kaci wasn’t around, the other girls informed me that yes, in fact, I did mouth fuck her brother again. Awesome, just awesome. He’s hot though, so I’m not complaining!
So what did happen Saturday night? I’ll tell you this for sure… I am not allowed back in that town again! Well at least not until people forget about the shit show that I starred in on Saturday night.
Saturday
At 9am all of the bridesmaids met at the salon to get ready for four hours. We all complained, because who needs to get ready for four hours?! Turns out we needed that time. Jill allowed us two glasses of champagne each before the wedding. She didn’t want the priest to kick us out. Which was a definite possibility given the veracity of this group.
I do have to take a moment to share what happened with my hairstyle. I had one of the small town hairstylists do my hair, never doing that again. I should have just curled it myself. I asked for medium curls… 45 minutes later she is done, I look in the mirror. Holy fuck I looked like a French poodle on steroids. My hair stuck out past my shoulders in these tiny ringlets that went out of style in 1850. She loaded it with hairspray so there was no getting out of it… Wow, my friends were laughing so hard they had to excuse themselves to the bathroom so as to not offend the hairdresser. Good, I didn’t want to get laid anyways.
Luckily my hair is so thick, it calmed down before the wedding, but still was a disaster.
The wedding was beautiful and went off without a hitch. It really was a beautiful experience. But now for the fun part.
Once the wedding was over… it was time for debauchery!
We showed up at the reception hall after about an hour of pictures. It was time to drink. All of us bridesmaids had these bright yellow dresses that I referred to as my “Golden Ticket.” Meaning – I was going to get what I wanted, when I wanted. With both men and booze. I loved my “Golden Ticket.”
Shoving my way to the bar with my golden ticket, I commenced the inhalation process of alcohol. Drink of choice? Lime vodka and redbull. Nasty. Everyone else was doing it, so I jumped on board. Of course the treasured favorite of tequila came later.
Let’s piece the night together. Here is what I remember: most of the reception, making out with at least two guys, falling on the floor during an exquisite dance move, tequila, more kissing, more tequila, and finally pictures. Ohhhh the pictures. There is a beautiful picture of “snapper delight” in the bathroom. “Snapper delight” was my weekend nickname since I had a freshly waxed vag… I have no idea who had my camera and why they would take a picture over the bathroom stall. I actually don’t remember the actual dance move, but I slide across the floor and I believe I knocked over a child, who immediately started crying. I think I hear his mother say, “Oh honey, it’s just drunk Alexis being herself, she didn’t mean to karate chop you in the face with her heels.”
Here is what I don’t remember: Leaving the reception, going to the bar, the third and fourth guy I made out with getting home. Oh wait, I remember drinking a martini at the bar! Yes, I remember something from the bar!
Pictures put me at the bar after the reception, so I know I went. But the next thing I remember is running away from a guy’s car, freezing and trying to figure out how to get to my friend’s house. Why was I running? I think he was finger banging me and I finally came out of my drunk blackout, realized who I was with, and got the fuck out of there. Fast.
The guys:
1) Aaron – yes I do remember making out with him. Picture to prove it.
2) Oh shit I forgot his name… I swear I knew it before. Ok well he is like three years younger and I made out with his brother also.
3) Josh – brother of “no name” listed above. Also, the same guy who I remember running away from his car. What is my thing with brothers? This is the fourth set of brothers. My god. Plus I have made out with two of my best friend’s brothers. Jesus. That is a weird phenomenon. Gotta love similar DNA.
4) Kaci’s brother – which to this day we will both deny… and I cannot 100% guarantee it, but the girls say I did. And I have a lot of pictures with him, so I’m assuming I did.
The recap breakfast was very informative. I spent most of the time shaking my head. And saying “yep, yep, I did do that.” But that wasn’t the worst part. It was going to Jill’s mom’s house for presents and seeing all the adults from the wedding. I was greeted with laughter and “oh shit, you were tanked last night.” Lets just say, I made an impression.
-Alexis Patron
