Tag Archives: alcohol

Origins #25

26 May

Rene had sent through what effectively translated to “It’s not gonna happen. Leave me alone.”

I had conceded that I was out of options and that all I could do now was grit my teeth and try to get through a shitload of unexpected feelings while trying to cope with all the other shit I had going on.

Stress proof

People often get the impression that I’m unaffected by what’s happening in my life. My former manager Mike Monarch, once told me:

 “Nothing ever rattles you. You just keep going no matter what’s happening. It’s like you’re stress proof.”

I’d received many similar comments over the years. I appreciate that people saw me that way, but I had never thought it to be true. Things affect me just as badly as anyone else, but things still need to get done when you’re doing it rough, so I try to carry on and not react, which I suppose looks the same as not being affected.

ectqp

That’s the only way I knew to do things, so that’s what I was going to do.

Everyone’s a comedian

In the following week I tried to hunker down. I tried to distract myself. I tried to not feel anything by doing anything and everything else I could think of.

It wasn’t working.

Having had Rene demand I ask her out and then reject me with practically no explanation was hard enough, but everyone at work was still hassling me with jokes and teasing about her having stayed at my place. I tell you what, after the 47th “How’s Rene?” of the day, my patience would wear thin.

ok-fine

But I couldn’t snap at them because no one was allowed to know that we had hooked up, or that she had demanded I ask her out, or that she then told me we couldn’t go out, and that left me completely head-fucked. All they knew was it was fun to make jokes.

What’s reality got to do with it?

On top of that, the standard hassles from my manager Gus continued:

“I need this project finished tomorrow and this other project finished by Tuesday, and this is a new project that I want done by the end of the week and I need you to show Larry how to write the XML for those other projects, and there’s a bug causing the system to show the wrong name on the third page of the sign-up and that also affects the back-end in the participant surname somehow, I need that resolved immediately.” – Gus

“Listen, Gus, I’ve asked you to put things like this into an email because there’s no way I’ll remember all that. Also, there’s no way I can get that first project and second project done in less than a month, so there’s no way I can achieve those deadlines, let alone do all the other stuff you just listed.” – Me

“I thought you were supposed to be a good developer. A good developer would be able to keep up. Stop being so negative. Just get it done.” – Gus

“I’ll do as much as I can but I’m telling you right now, no one could get all that work done in such a short period of time.” – Me

“Stop wasting time arguing about it. Just do it.” – Gus

Gus always asked for the impossible. Even at my best I could never keep up with his nonsensical theories on how much work could be done in an hour, let alone a week.

do-it

I was doing my best not to think about Rene, but I’d run into her sister, or cop another joke about her, or see her name on a file, and I’d get distracted thinking about it. So not only was it already impossible to keep up with Gus’ ridiculous demands, I wasn’t even running on all 8 cylinders.

Cat, please exit bag

I’d nearly made it through another week but I didn’t think I could cope much longer.

After work I received a phone call from a former Everlong colleague, Bea. Bea had worked admin at Everlong for 7 years before quitting in frustration that they wouldn’t give her a shot in marketing. Bea had moved on not long after Gus had started, so she knew all about his bullshit, and she knew Rene fairly well too.

Bea and I had gotten really close in the time we worked together and I was stoked to hear from her. She told me how well she was doing in her new marketing job and how her manager there was praising her performance.

And then she told me she’d heard a rumour about me and Rene from some of the girls she used to work with.

I wasn’t sure how to handle it. I trusted Bea and desperately wanted to talk about the situation, but I’d promised not to. I asked her what she’d heard. She said that everyone was sure I was a total player and I’d had a one night stand with Rene and that’s why Tim Everlong was furious at me.

I told Bea that I’d tell her the truth, on the proviso that she not tell anyone else, and that nobody else knew anything, so if the word got out, I’d know she was the one who told. I made her promise.

dktpnky

I sat there at my kitchen counter in my shitty little apartment and told her exactly what had happened. The cool evening breeze rushed over me, hurrying its way between the open balcony door and the open front door as I relayed the tale.

Bea asked all the questions I’d been asking. All I could tell her was that I didn’t know why Rene had acted the way she had, or what was going to happen from there on out.

Two bags, one cat

As I hopped up to get a drink I turned and faced the open front door. There was Larry from work.

cat

He stammered out,

H-h-h-hey, are w-w-we still hang-hang-hanging out to-tonight?

I’d completely forgotten I’d made plans to watch The Jersey Shore with him that night. I had no idea how long he’d been standing there. I told Bea I had to go, hung up, and told Larry to come in.

He was flustered. Larry is the sort of guy who is flustered a lot anyway, but this was more than he standard jitter. He was properly nervous. He’d heard something that clued him into what had happened between me and Rene and he was clearly stressed out by that.

I asked him straight up, “What did you hear?”
“Nothing… I… didn’t… didn’t. Nothing. Nothing at all.”, he said, visibly shaking.

I told him it was ok. It wasn’t his fault he overheard.

Larry’s the sort of bloke that loves a bit of gossip and I knew he’d keep my secret because he thought I was some sort of superhero because I could talk to women without making it awkward. Oh, how wrong he was, hey?

Unlucky Larry

I went through and told Larry the whole ordeal. There was a lot of “what are you going to do?”, “What about Tim? Do you think he’ll fire you?”, “what about…”

nervous

I explained my plan to cop it on the chin and not let it affect me. I told him I was happy he knew because I’d been unable to talk about it until then, and I thought having someone who knew everyone involved and could see it from a less stressed-out perspective would help.

We yapped about it for hours while the queued episodes the Jersey Shore dribbled by with stories of drama that felt disturbingly relatable. Eventually Larry called it a night and I was left to deal with knowing that I’d  broken my promise.

r2qfh

I had very much needed to talk about it, but Larry probably wasn’t the right guy for the job. I’d become good friends with Larry and valued his opinion on things, but he was a very nervous guy and a lot of the points he had raised were the opposite of calming. Whatever I’d gained by letting the truth out, I’d lost to the new concerns Larry raised.

Denial will do the trick

Fucking drama. All that effort to avoid it and it had still found a way to detonate itself all over me. I was caked in it and there was sweet fuck all I could do about it. Except of course, to pretend it wasn’t happening.

no-prob

It was a foolproof plan. And it worked, for all of a day, that being the next day at work, but it was a Friday and maybe the glimmer of the weekend ahead had more to do with me getting through it than the THERE IS DEFINITELY NOTHING WRONG attitude I’d taken on.

im-fine

I’d gotten very quiet. I got through the usual Friday night after work drinks session almost completely silently by focussing mostly on stuffing my face with food and pouring beer in my mouth between bites. It was not an elegant solution, but it was working.

Before I left for the night, Larry reminded me that he was having a party at his place that Saturday.

What’s that, little fairy? You can help?

I spent the rest of that night and most of the following day in bed. I don’t think I slept at all. I remember staring little holes into my ceiling. I remember looking at my phone wondering when I would actually sleep. I remember not wanting to go to Larry’s party.

See, Australia’s greatest motorsport event, Bathurst was on the next day, and I always get up early to watch that, usually about 5:30am.

13e5146gnptdww

But I had to go, because Larry didn’t have much luck with people showing up to his parties. There was a very real possibility that if I didn’t go, he might end up with nobody there at all. Plus, Larry’s place was barely two blocks away from mine so I really had no excuse.

I was happy to see that other people had showed up. The core group of the guys from work were already there when I arrived, which was great because they were all good for a laugh, and a laugh was exactly what I was in need of. Well, any distraction really, and therein lay the problem because there was a partygoer there I hadn’t anticipated… a little green fairy.

IMG_3320

Larry had heard my stories about enjoying the very fancy ritual of having an Absinthe and decided to buy an entire bottle of the most aggressive, high alcohol content Absinthe he could find.

Larry offered me some. I accepted. He couldn’t finish his and offered it to me. I accepted. His sister couldn’t finish hers, so she offered it to me. I accepted.

shots

It turned out very few attendees were willing to ignore the face-kicking nature of this super-charged Absinthe to get to its ever-so-pleasant mind numbing effects. But I was willing.

damn-good-stuff

I was very willing.

And as the bottle emptied, so did my mind.

I didn’t have any problems.

Everything was fine.

The more Absinthe I drank, the less static I could hear.

My mind was getting quiet.

All my thoughts were drifting away.

I was breaking free.

wine

What’s your poison?

I don’t remember anything after the third full glass of Absinthe I consumed. That little green fairy had deceived me. She wasn’t calming me down. She was trying to drown me. She was trying to poison me. She was trying to suck me into the darkness forever. She was trying to kill me.

I drank roughly 3/4 of that bottle of Absinthe and I’m fairly certain I gave myself alcohol poisoning in the process.

giphy1

The rest of this I only know based on what people later told me, or the evidence I discovered for myself…

Larry was so worried about me that he had someone drive me the two or so blocks home. Despite the short distance, I managed to vomit in their car, the first of several times for the evening.

grgl

 

I always loop my key chain around my belt loop to ensure I never lose them, but I had forgotten that somehow, and after I opened the front door to my shitty little apartment I apparently walked straight on with the key still in the lock, and fell face first when the slack of the chain came tight.

wasted

Based on the evidence I found, instead of taking the now bent key out of the lock, I kicked my shoes off and climbed out of my jeans. Then I crawled onwards, leaving the front door wide open. My key left in the lock, with my jeans dangling off it via the chain.

No joke

I know this all sounds silly and funny now, but I’m not kidding around when I mentioned alcohol poisoning. I’ve drunk a LOT in my time. I’ve woken up with the sort of hangover that left me promising to never drink again, and then done that again the next day. I’ve been unable to get out of bed from Saturday morning through Sunday afternoon, but I have never, ever felt anywhere near as bad as I did the morning after all that Absinthe.

That was the only time I have ever been worried I wouldn’t survive.

frg

To put it into perspective a light hangover lasts a morning, a regular hangover lasts a day, and a severe hangover lasts a weekend. It took me more than a week to recover from this one.

iz1b1i

I felt how this looks

I was physically, mentally, and emotionally destroyed.

So much for denial.

Full circle

And with that, we’re now back to Origins #1.

That’s not the end of the story. The drama only escalates from here. Things get more insane with Rene, and I’ll introduce you to Mia, who makes Rene appear rational by comparison. Dear lord, what a life I’ve lived.

Seeya next time.

Advertisements

Origins #23

23 May

After yet another awkward moment with my boss’s daughter I was trying to ignore the bombardment of mockery from my colleagues regarding the fact that she’d spent the night at my place. I’d made it through the day, despite the surprise meeting, and had escaped the office at last.

I spent the rest of that day trying to figure out how to deal with my very complex situation. I had found myself between the proverbial rock and hard place and there was no obvious way out. Rene had asked me to keep the situation secret, so I couldn’t talk to anyone about it, which meant I had to put up with all this teasing despite currently trying to deal with being rejected by a girl who had literally demanded that I ask her out.

I really needed to talk to someone about it. Like, realllllly needed to, but I’d agreed not to. So I stared holes in the walls and ceiling hunting for a way to not get too stressed out about it all. Even though I was confident I’d figure it out, there was still emotion to it.

The scenario had hit me like a tonne of bricks. I was hurting very, very badly but I don’t think I was capable of understanding just how deeply I’d been cut. All I knew at that point was I wanted the situation to change as soon as possible. I don’t remember that night especially well, but I’m sure I didn’t sleep a wink.

Another day, another billion jokes about fucking the boss’s daughter

I trudged off to work again. I’d been knackered the day before but I had gone another night without sleep, so I was completely annihilated. And the jokes came my way all day long.

I tried to politely deny their insinuations as they come in from my colleagues in my little room. I tried to dissuade their innuendos as they came from colleagues from other rooms around the building. I tried to calm the tide as they started coming in via email from our head office. I couldn’t keep up with them. They came in faster than I could read them.

It was not an easy day.

I wasn’t sure how to cope with it, and I wanted Rene to at least see what I was dealing with, so I collated a few of the more ‘entertaining’ emails and forwarded them to her. Rene replied that it looked like everyone was having fun and that she wished she could get in there and fire a few responses back.

But… Powderfinger!

If you recall from earlier, my favourite band were doing a farewell tour before retiring. I had tickets to their show that night. I was physically and emotionally exhausted, but there was no way in hell I’d miss that show.

Powderfinger always had the ability to articulate the world I’d been living in and convert what I’d been dealing with in my life into a form of music that resonated deeply in me.

I assume their music sounds dated to anyone listening for the first time so many year’s later, but they were hugely influential on me when I first heard them as a 16 year old kid in high school.

In a lot of ways Powderfinger played the role of providing a soundtrack to key events of my life. When I left school and started to work as a pizza delivery boy I would listen to Internationalist on loop for hours on end in my car. When I went back to study multimedia they’d be on high rotation on my clunky portable CD player and my very first mp3 player. They seemed to be at every major music festival so I’d often see them live and be ever amazed by their ability to grab a crowd by the ears and leave everyone smiling at the end.

I wasn’t alone in liking them. They were Australia’s biggest band for nearly a decade. They won all the awards an Aussie band can win and were heralded by critics and punters alike.

I was 31 at that point and I suppose their retirement shouldn’t have been as important to me as it was. Something I had always enjoyed was coming to an end. One more thing was being taken away from me. For reasons that I’ll explain a little later, I had always found those moments difficult.

Nevertheless, I could be sad about it later. I had one more chance to see them live with thousands of other die-hard fans, and that’s exactly what I was going to do.

Exhaustion? Bullshit! Grab us a drink

There was one solution for any and all problems where I grew up, and that was alcohol. I’d always thought that a very primitive approach to problem solving, but I was out of ideas and I wasn’t about to waste the last opportunity I had to see Powderfinger, so I met up with my friends for a drink before the show.

We found our way to some fancypants bar a very short walk from the venue and proceeded to do our very best impression of liquor consumption machines. It’s funny the way a quiet drink leads to a loud drink. In this case it lead us to the loudest of all drinks; a drink I had only recently become accustomed with in Europe… Absinthe.

Being a fancy pants bar, they not only had Absinthe, they did the whole ritual of  burning the sugar with the fancy spoon and everything.

 

You know there’s something wrong when the bar tender’s going to that level of complexity and all you’re thinking is “just get me the fucking alcohol, mate.”

A few more rounds (or ten) and it was time to go to the show! I might not have known exactly who or where I was but I was ready to have a good time.

HOLY SHIT. THEY’RE SINGING MY LIFE AT ME.

Powderfinger were known for writing songs that people related to. Even completely sober I related to those songs. Half full of absinthe, dealing with everything I was dealing with, the impact was amplified.

I mean, they started with this…

and then threw this in.

I’m sure you get the idea.

They played a bunch of brilliant songs. The crowd was loving it. The band was loving it, and letting us know it too. It was a big love-in. They even played that same stones track I’d heard them playing as I foolishly leaned in to try and kiss Rene only a few days prior.

It was as good a show as anyone could have asked for, and like many other things in my life at that point, it was coming to an end weather I liked it or not. The appropriateness of the moment was not missed by anyone as they finished a bittersweet night with thousands of people singing along to their most beloved, most bittersweet song.

And with that a present became past

The encore had been and gone. The second encore had been and gone. That was the last time I’ll ever feel the buzz of joy that always tingled its way through a packed crowd at a Powderfinger show.

It was over. The thousands of screaming fans begging for more couldn’t change that reality and eventually we rall ealised that and began the inch by inch shuffle to the exits.

I was forlorn. The nostalgia had drowned me. That moment in time summed up exactly how I was feeling about my life. Everything was on the verge of slipping away and there was nothing I could do about it.

What’s that you say, alcohol?

You think I should send Rene an email? Oh surely you jest, old friend. Now is hardly the time for such things!

Oh how I wish I had not listened to my old friend alcohol, but I didn’t recognise him hidden in that disguise as my new friend Absinthe. So after I got home from that very sentimental show, I sent Rene a very sentimental email.

I can assure you that if there is a way to convert a cringe directly into an email, I managed to do so that night. I don’t remember much of what I wrote, but I know it included the following concepts:

“You don’t need to reply to this.”

“I really don’t understand what happened.”

“I like you more when you let your guard down.”

“If you get your head around whatever you’re dealing with and want to hang out, I’ve got some free time Sunday”

Oh God, the shame! It’s so humiliating to think about the fact that I actually hit send on that. Fuck.

embarrased

Just one of many, many, many more cringey things to come though.

 

Next time…

Rene replies to the email she didn’t have to reply to and my sneaky little buddy Absinthe gives me a few days rest before he doing his level best to kill me.

10 Things you should not do at a bar

26 Mar

10 Things you shouldn’t do at a bar

Bars are fun. Drinking is fun. Meeting strangers can be awesome and dancing your butt off to your favourite tunes can be downright glorious. Remember however, bars are magnets for crazy bitches, and seeing that I’m trying to dissuade women away from being crazy bitches and/or being mistaken for crazy bitches, I thought these suggestions might come in handy.

These aren’t the only rules for not what to do at a bar, but they’re some of the more important ones.

10. Don’t get shitfaced

Sure, you’re there to have a few drinks, but you don’t need to empty every bottle in the bar. Try to keep in mind that the point of being at a bar is to socialise, and it’s difficult to socialise when you can’t even talk. Also, the more you drink, the worse you’ll look in photos.

too drunkWhy not?

Looking bad in photos isn’t the worst of it.

Massive hangovers suck really bad. So does waking up with someone you would very much prefer to have never touched. Waking up in a jail cell is pretty shitty and I reckon waking up in the hospital is even worse. You can usually avoid all of these things by keeping yourself from achieving shitfaced status.

Think about it for a second… they call it shitfaced… it’s not exactly a positive description, is it?

9. Don’t get into fights

This one applies to inside and outside the bar. If the point of going to a bar is to socialise, rolling around on the ground trying desperately to cause another person to bleed seems to go against that objective.

You’re not going to get along with everyone in a bar. That’s ok. That’s part of life, and that’s why you can choose to talk to someone else, or go to a different bar or, y’know, any other civilised way of not ending up rolling around on the ground trying to rip out someone else’s hair.

Why not?

Even if you really hate someone there, before you engage in fisticuffs with them, consider how much time you’ll waste in dealing with the bar staff, the police, and potentially at the hospital. It’s not fun dealing with people in uniforms when you’re just trying to have a fun night out with your friends. It’s not fun for your friends to wonder if you’re ok. Having a record for assault is never going to improve your life.

If you can’t think clearly enough to avoid getting into fights, look back at point #10.

8. Don’t be shitty to your boyfriend

A bar is not the place to test how much your boyfriend is into you, or to see how willing he is to stand up for you.

Don’t go around flirting with guys in front of your boyfriend, that shit’s not cool. If you’re not sure how much he likes you, there are better ways to figure it out than trying to enrage him by being massively disrespectful to him in public.

Similarly, don’t go around expecting everyone else in the bar to put up with you doing whatever the fuck you want, and then get all surprised when they point out that you’re behaviour is making their night worse.

Why not?

What almost always happens in these scenarios is that your boyfriend is going to have to stand up for you, and when you tell the random, massive dude who’s beer you just spilled all over the place that “My boyfriend will kick your ass!”, you’re either going to cause your boyfriend to take punches to the face for you, or get into a big argument with you about why he sided with those complete strangers over his girlfriend.

And if you’re flirting with other guys in front of your boyfriend, he’s going to get pissed off at you or at the guys. Either way, you’re pissing your boyfriend off.

That’s ultra shitty. There’s no good way out for your boyfriend and that’s just a straight up shitty way to treat someone you claim to care about.7. Don’t take your clothes off

This isn’t one of those hard and fast rules, I’m just saying, at least think to yourself “Would I be doing this if I was sober?”

For example, if you’re wearing a coat and it’s really warm in the bar, take off the coat. You’d do that if you were sober, so it’s a reasonable decision. If removing the article of clothing would cause the police stop you in the street, were they to see you, you can generally assume that’s not something you’d usually do when you’re sober, and thus is not the right way to go.

The woman in this video clearly didn’t follow the simple “Would I take this off if I were sober” decision assessment.Why not?

Well… there are several reasons. If you can’t answer them for yourself when you’re sober, I don’t think there’s anything I can say that’s going to help, except that maybe you should consider a career in exotic dancing.

6. Don’t go overboard with public displays of affection

Just like the previous rule about taking your clothes off, the PDA rule requires a bit of self evaluation.

The whole point of going to a bar is to socialise, so it’s bound to lead to showing some affection sometimes. Note that word some. Kissing your boyfriend or your girlfriend, if that’s your thing, is totally cool. Depending on the place, some sneaky groping might not cause too much hub-bub.

There are a couple of clues that it’s going too far which are hard to miss. One of them is that you realise that you’re kissing someone more for the benefit of everyone else, rather than for you and the person you’re kissing. A really easy way to figure that out is when the bar erupts into applause.

Another way to evaluate if your PDA is going too far is to consider if it would make a good viral video.

Even when the irony of the situation demands it, it’s still not a good idea.

Why not?

Because if you’re really into it, you can find somewhere private. Also, not everyone is actually into seeing you do that shit, and the people who are don’t give a shit about you, they’re just in it for the show. Think about it this way, do you really want to be one of the “skanks” those people will be laughing about later in the night? and probably jerking off to later that night? Do you want to be the star of a viral video about having sex in public? See, that’s the sort of shit that make’s it tough to get a job.

If your answer to those questions is “No”, what else is there to say?

5. Don’t cry at or around the bar

Hey, look, emotions happen. That’s just a part of drinking and socialising. Getting some sort of emotional response is kind of the point of going in the first place, but those negative emotions… the ones that lead to crying, they’re just not good for a bar situation.

Why not?

Crying is an obvious sign of a person in a vulnerable state. Predators seek out people in vulnerable states.

I don’t know about you, but that video skeeves me the fuck out.

The other major reason to keep your negative emotions in check at the bar is everyone is trying to have a good time and it’s way harder to enjoy your night with people crying around you. If you keep it up too long, you’re going to piss people off, like the girl in this video, who was crying at the bar staff that she needed a charger for her phone.

You want another reason? I feel for the girl in this video because she seems really nice, but it is a great reminder that crying isn’t very flattering.

4. Keep the dancing to the dance floor

I know how it goes. You’ve done some pole dancing lessons and you’re feeling really good and you know for damned sure you’re looking good. Those tequila shots are kicking in and then you see it… a pole. It’s just there waiting for you to dance on it and show everyone in the vicinity just how well you can ride it.

Unfortunately, the people who put that pole there probably weren’t expecting it to be used in an ad hoc amateur pole dancing session.

Maybe it’s not the random pole, maybe it’s the table.

Maybe it’s barely even the table at fault

Why not?

Did you not watch the videos?

3. Don’t pee anywhere except in the ladies toilets

Yeah, the lines are long and the wait is horrendous. Maybe if women didn’t turn using the toilet into a social affair things would move a long quicker and you wouldn’t have to do the gotta pee dance half the night. Doesn’t really matter though, because the only place you’re allowed to pee when you go to the bar, is in the ladies toilets at that bar, or at your place when you get home.

You don’t get to use the gent’s room. They already make us piss into a trough like livestock. We shouldn’t also have to deal with the confusion of seeing a woman in there! The point in the night when you start to think using the men’s room is a good idea is the point in the night at which you need to focus on rule #10 again.

And that doesn’t mean

2. Don’t lick any buttholes

At no point in your time at the bar, should your tongue make contact with a butthole of any sort.

No.

Some of these rules have grey areas. This one does not.

If your tongue somehow does make its way into the general locale of a butthole, just call it a fucking night and go home because something either went really, really wrong, or you’re into that sort of thing, in which case something went really, really, right. For good or bad, it’s time to leave the bar.

Why not?

Most people go to bars to get away from the assholes they have to suck up to during the day and they don’t want to be reminded of that bullshit.

1. Don’t suck 24 dicks at one bar

Alright, listen up. No matter how awesomely and magically it is explained to you, there is never, under any circumstances, a good reason to suck 24 different dicks at a bar.

Usually I prefer to leave room for a potentially plausible cause for outright ridiculous behaviour, but when it comes to putting the cocks of 24 different guys in your mouth in one night at a bar, I just can’t come up with an even remotely acceptable explanation.

Apparently the girl in the video thought she was going to get a holiday. She didn’t get a holiday. A Holiday is the name of a drink they serve at the bar. If my understanding is correct on this one, this young woman put the various dangly and/or firmish man bits of 24 guys in her mouth in hopes of earning a vacation while she was already on a vacation, and instead earned herself a drink.

Jesus H Christ! Most blokes will buy a girl a drink if she bloody well smiles at him! Maybe try that first!

And as for this supposed trip, what fucking holiday could possibly be worth sucking off 24 strangers?!?! Unless you were promised a first class guided tour of every country on this ridiculous planet, and the moon, and every planet in our solar system, and maybe backwards and forwards in time, then maaaaaybe it’d be worth it. Otherwise, what in the fuck could possibly convince you that you need to put 24 individual sweaty, gross, hairy, unprotected cocks into your mouth?

If you really want to play the old trading sexual favours to gain wealth and a luxurious life style card, you’d be far better off heading over to the casinos in Monaco to find yourself a billionaire rather than a shitty dive bar in spain where the clientele are totally cool with watching drunken teenage girls get convinced to suck 2 dozen wangs for the promise of a motherfucking holiday!

Even a porn star would rate sucking 24 dicks in a single night as a pretty big deal. So maybe that’s one way to avoid doing something like this. Ask yourself, “would a porn star be remotely uncomfortable with this?” If the answer is yes, and you’re not a porn star, maybe you should nope the fuck outta there right away!

nooooo

Crazy bitch tip: Rules 10 through 3 are pretty important and you should definitely stick to them, but everyone slips up from time to time, just make sure as hell you never break rules #1 and #2.

Origins #11

3 Mar

I was still there in my bed with my boss’s daughter, and I was proud of myself for admitting that I had a crush on her instead of holding that information back and leaving her to cry in the belief that I just wanted to sleep with her. If you’ve read up to here, I’m sure you think it’s a bit weird that she somehow thought I was just trying to sleep with her considering I’d put in a fair bit of effort to avoid having anything happen with her, but hey, I was pretty drunk and that didn’t occur to me at the time.

Oops

Something I have remembered since posting last time was that, at some point after Rene and I had arrived at my place, I’d asked her about her sister Laura’s relationship. I’d pointed out that it seemed like something was off there. Rene told me she didn’t know much about it and seemed a bit down about me asking. Turns out Rene knew more than she was letting on and had taken my curiosity as further evidence of her belief that I was interested in Laura.

In hindsight, I guess that was another reason why Rene was so certain I was into Laura. I was into Laura. I’d say I liked her about as much as I liked Rene, but in a different way. It’s tough to explain because I knew Laura much better than Rene. I’ll tell you right now though, most guys would be falling all over themselves to get anywhere near either of these young women, but up until this particular night I’d done a brilliant job of behaving myself around both of them.

You have to ask me out on a proper date!

Anyways, I’d just finished admitting to Rene that I’d had a crush on her for a long time and she’d lit up with joy at hearing it. It’s not like I confessed to having an undying love for her, either. I’d only told her that I’d liked her for a long time and that I wanted to get to spend some time with her and get to know her better but Rene reacted like all her Christmases had come at once and we kissed some more as a result.

Rene stopped crying again and we went back to kissing and whatnot but we were still talking the whole time, and she started telling me how she’d made all these moves on me and asked why I’d never made any moves back. Rene pointed out that she had added me on Facebook, got my work email and started emailing me, gotten my mobile number from her sister and started texting me and even after all of that, I still hadn’t asked her out.

I told her, “You’re my boss’s daughter.”
“So?”, she asked.
“So I need my job”, I explained.
“But you never even asked me out”, she insisted.
“I’m not going to hit on my boss’s daughter. I invited you out to everything and I just figured that was as much as I could do, but you hardly ever came to anything”, I pointed out.
“But you never asked me out on a proper date, just the two of us!”, Rene said.
“I figured you could tell I was interested. You knew I couldn’t ask you out, I figured you’d ask me out if you wanted to see me.”, I told her.
“I was pretty sure that night you told me my ex in France was an idiot. But you have to ask me out now! You have to ask me out on a proper date!”, she told me, practically bouncing up and down with excitement.
“Alright. I’ll ask you out on a proper date.” I told her.

Rene was grinning ear to ear and kissing me with some serious passion after that, but even as drunk as I was, it all sounded like a weird way to go about it to me. I mean, we were in bed with each other and there she was demanding that I ask her out on a date? It’s not like I would have minded asking her out, but we were well past the ‘asking out’ stage of things.

But I’d been drinking, and she’d been drinking, and the whole thing was a bit of a mess. So I figured, if she wanted me to ask her out, I’d ask her out.

Drunken singing

We were making out and laughing and having all the stupid, drunken fun you tend to have when you’ve been drinking all night with someone you’re interested in. We started talking about all sorts of things, like the music we like and what we loved about the 90s and probably a bunch of other shit that I honestly can’t remember.

I do remember that we laid out in that bed playing songs off our phones and singing along to them between kissing and touching, and more singing, and more kissing, and more singing. At one point, I’m loathe to admit, I grabbed my ukulele from beside my bed and tried to play a tune for us to sing to, but I was too drunk to play, so gave up on that idea pretty quick.

It might sound lame, but of everything that happened that night, singing along to those songs together was my favourite bit. I was digging that we had so much in common. There was something awesome about being in bed with this girl I’d liked for so long and that we’d ended cuddled up, singing along to John Farnham songs, and making out like teenagers.

The Roller Coaster Continues

emor

Unfortunately, it wasn’t too long before Rene started crying again.

“You want something serious, don’t you”, she sobbed.
“What are you talking about?”, I asked her.
“You said you want something serious”, she repeated.
“No I didn’t, I said I want to hang out with you a bit and get to know you”, I explained, confused.
I continued, saying, “I couldn’t even think about getting into something serious anytime soon. I just want to hang out with you under the radar, get to know you properly and see what happens.”

And that was the absolute truth of the matter. I wasn’t looking to go from zero to 100 with her. Shit, I didn’t think I really knew Rene well enough to think anything beyond maybe going on a date with her. I wasn’t thinking about the future, aside from the very risky situation I was going to be in from a work perspective.

Like I said in an earlier post, all I was really looking for was to get to hang out with someone I thought was cool. I thought Rene was cool, so now we could get onto the hanging out with each other part, and eventually I’d get to know her well enough to see if there was something more than a basic attraction.

I lie to people and confuse them until they stop asking questions

Rene calmed down again and stopped crying.

We continued to talk, and I truly cannot remember how we ended up getting to this, but at one point Rene explained to me that she was an exhibitionist.

OK, so I’m with this girl I think is gorgeous and she’s already indicated to me that she likes things a bit rough in bed, and then she tells me she’s an exhibitionist. I was surprised to hear that but I was also very excited. I don’t think I’m a pervert, but I sure  am a very, very sexual person, and one aspect of that is that I like to do things that are a bit risqué. I definitely don’t want the girl I’m with to be skanky by any means, but that doesn’t mean she can’t be a bit naughty and fun, so to hear that this girl who I genuinely liked for other reasons was also a bit naughty was a huge added bonus.

And then Rene told me that she thinks she’s nowhere near as good as her sister Laura, that Laura has her shit together and that she’s doing so well, and Laura’s so pretty, and Laura’s this and that and whatever else. I, of course, tried to point out to Rene that she’s pretty awesome herself and shouldn’t compare herself to Laura, but Rene responded by telling me that she makes mistakes all the time and ruins things.

I don’t really remember exactly what she said, but I know Rene told me that she was still in contact with the guy she’d moved to France to be with, even though he’d cheated on her and she’d moved back to Australia broken hearted, she had kept in contact with him. Not only had she kept in contact with him, she was now playing the role of mistress behind the back of this douchebag’s new girlfriend.

I remember telling her, “Well, stop that shit, then!”

Again, I’m not sure how we got onto this, but Rene ended up telling me that she makes a lot of mistakes and it really upsets her. I don’t remember much of the conversation but I do remember her telling me, “I lie to people and confuse them until they stop asking questions.”

Idiot

Trust me, I know very well that I should have taken these things as red flags. I know I’m an idiot for not doing so at the time, but I was drunk and as far as I knew, I was with a beautiful, intelligent, fun, sexy young woman who happened to be going through a rough time and also happened to be full of red wine and cocktails.

Everybody says stupid shit when they’ve been drinking, so I wasn’t judging her for any of what she said. I guess I did take some of those statements on board though, as I certainly kept an eye out for certain things she’d mentioned about herself in the months to come. You’ll hear all about that soon enough.

But it’s not like Rene was the only one saying or doing stupid shit that night. I was on a roll, myself.

I’d managed to completely miss the fact that Rene was worried that I was interested in Laura and had contributed to making her cry as a result, repeatedly as the night went on.

I’d drunkenly pushed my boss’s daughter up and down some serious hills in a freakin’ shopping trolly, the most dangerous of all vehicles. I’d let the night get out of hand by not staying sober. I’d ended up in bed with my boss’s daughter, for fuck’s sake. I hadn’t stopped it and called her a taxi, I hadn’t told her we shouldn’t do anything, I hadn’t walked out of the room when she flashed me. I’d done a lot of stupid shit that night myself.

But I had one more awesomely stupid thing to say.

I totally understand why I said it, but that doesn’t mean I actually understand why I said it. Oh god. I actually have to tell you what I said. Ahh fuck it!, here goes…

I don’t exactly remember when but at one point in the night when I was in bed with Rene, I half whispered: “I want kids.”

I know.

embarrased

I know it was a moronic thing to do, but if you remember from Origins #7, I’d been talking with Rene’s sister earlier that day about how important it was to let people know what you want out of life before you get involved with them, and I didn’t mean that I wanted kids with Rene, I just meant that, at some point in my future, I’d like to be a parent. And somehow, as a result of all that rational logical, sense-making, I was pretty drunk and it just came out.

I totally get that it was a stupid thing to do, and even as I write this, I feel very much like this…

shm1Oh lord the shame I feel for admitting that I said that. Let’s never speak of it again. Ahhh shame my old friend, what would life be without you?

You want to know the worst part? I’m pretty sure I said that after Rene had her little freak-out about me wanting something serious. I just don’t know what I was thinking. I do think my little revelation was on the mild side in comparison to admitting to being an exhibitionist, or intentionally confusing people until they give up asking question, or playing the mistress, etc, etc but it was still a really embarrassing thing for me when I was forced to think back on it later.

Nearly there

As it turns out, there’s still a little bit more of that night that I have to tell you about, including more confusion, weird encouragement and weird rejection. Catch ya then!Crazy bitch tip: If you move to another country to be with a guy and he then cheats on you, don’t talk to him anymore because he’s clearly a massive douche.

Rape culture: a male perspective

28 Feb

I watched a video today in which ‘Rape culture’ was discussed and I’d like to share it with you.

In the video, Clementine Ford discusses her thoughts on the subject of cultural acceptance of rape within society. Ms Ford refers to the socially accepted norms regarding rape as Rape Culture.

Rape Culture infographic

I don’t thinks she’s crazy, I just think she lacks perspective

First off, let me say that I don’t think that Ms Ford is crazy, nor a bitch. I don’t think she’s wrong but neither do I think she’s entirely right. I do think, however, that Ms Ford is lacking perspective. “WHOAH! WHOAH! WHOAH!”, I hear you say. I understand that I’m walking on thin ice as a man daring to attempt to discuss this topic, but please don’t break the pitch forks and torches out just yet.

When I suggest that Ms Ford is lacking perspective, I’m not suggesting her opinion is invalid, and I’m definitely not suggesting in any way that there’s not a huge societal issue in regards to the amount of unwanted sexual contact happening against women around the world. Sexual assault has impacted my family, so I’m no stranger to the damage it causes.

What I’m saying is that Ms Ford is looking at some undeniable evidence and coming up with sensible, but inaccurate, hypothesis because her analysis lacks an understanding of the other gender involved.

I’ll freely admit that there is a lot I don’t understand about women, but at least I’m aware of that and I’m not suggesting that all women are after the same things or driven by the same factors. From the video above, I’m not so sure that Ms Ford understands that different men have different reasons for their behaviour, or that the majority of us aren’t directly or indirectly continuing or encouraging ‘rape culture’.

Rape is really shit and shouldn’t happen

Rape is unconscionable. Rapists should go to jail. Nobody deserves to be raped and rape should not be accepted in any way by a modern, civilised society. There should be no question about any of this and anyone who believes rape of any form is justified in any way is misguided to the point of being a danger to society. Ms Ford and I both agree that society should move towards an ideal point at which every woman would be able to work anywhere she pleases, at any time, day or night, and not have to factor in the possibility of being raped.

If we were purely talking about the casual acceptance of rape within society, I don’t have anything to say against that sentiment. There’s definitely room for improvement as far as educating people about the horrible impact of unwanted sexual contact. The number of people, not only girls, who are sexually abused by immediate family members, extended family members, family friends, and peers, is truly a travesty. It’s a huge problem and a blight on otherwise progressive societies. It’s an issue that needs to be addressed and resolved as quickly as possible because lives are constantly being ruined by this insidious behaviour.

But that’s not what Ms Ford is talking about. Ms Ford is discussing the idea that a woman should be able to do whatever she wants, whenever, and wherever she wants, without any fear of potentially being sexually assaulted. Ms Ford is blaming society for casually accepting rape as the root cause for women not currently being able to enjoy her idealised utopic scenario.

Reality

I’m all for being an idealist and working towards that ideal, but we can’t just ignore reality.

The reality is that not only women and girls get raped. The reality is that a lot of rapes could have been avoided with better decision making. The reality is that blaming people who never have and never would rape anyone for the small number of people who do commit rape is not productive. The reality is that the term rape refers to a specific type of sexual assault and is not an appropriate term for all forms of sexual assault. The reality is that ‘rape culture’ is a massive oversimplification of an enourmously complex topic and it’s doing as much harm as good.

Statements like:

“I do think it’s an act of terrorism to raise girls to believe that the world is not safe for them”
Clementine Ford

are unnecessarily inflammatory. This sort of hyperbolic speech is not helpful, it is so exaggerated that it’s alienating. I personally find it very difficult to take someone seriously when they say things which are so over the top.

It is not an act of terrorism to teach a girl, or a boy, to be cautious about the company they keep and the situations in which they choose to engage. That’s called education. It’s important a child’s survival. We might all want the world to be a safe place, but it doesn’t matter how much we want it to be, the world is not a safe place. To teach children otherwise only makes them more likely to be impacted by the dangers which do exist in the world.

If I had a daughter and I chose not to teach her to be afraid to climb into the lion cage at the zoo, and then she climbs in and gets eaten, I did a bad job educating her to the dangers of the world. If I had a son and I didn’t teach him to be afraid of falling off cliffs, and he later tumbles to his death, I did a bad job of educating him to the dangers of the world.

It’s essential to educate everyone that not everyone they meet will have their best interests at heart. It is essential to educate people that some situations are dangerous, and best avoided. It’s essential to educate people to understand that becoming intoxicated makes them less capable of protecting themselves from those people who don’t have their best interests at heart.Sexual assault is not a gender issue

One of the things that really gets to me about the people who talk about rape culture is, they so often speak of it as if it’s a men versus women thing. Men suffer from this blight on society too. Men get raped, usually as children, but also as fully grown men. The rape of men within prison systems is a known, ignored and mocked part of our zeitgeist. Not only are men often victims of sexual assaults, men also have to help pick up the pieces after someone they love is sexually assaulted, and yet we constantly see quotes like:

Tell_men_not_to_rape

Don’t tell women what not to wear TELL MEN NOT TO RAPE

Hang on, let’s think about that for a second.

Does anyone really think most men don’t know they shouldn’t rape people? Honestly? Because I don’t find that when I’m out walking with my girlfriend that I spend the majority of my time fending off would be rapists and having to explain that they shouldn’t be trying to rape people. No, the people who don’t understand that are… wait for it… FUCKING RAPISTS.

And by the way, why are so many people assuming that only men commit sexual assaults? If the point is to do everything we, as a society, can to minimise sexual misconduct, why are we pointing the finger at half the population and assuming they’re all rapists based purely on their gender? Why are we assuming that the other half of the population has zero responsibility purely because of their gender?

That’s what’s fucked up about all this. That men are universally being labeled as rapist monsters who are just waiting to rape and that women are universally being labeled as victims in waiting. That is complete and utter bullshit! Sure, a higher percentage of sexual assaults are enacted by males than females, but does that reduce the impact on the male victims? Hell no.

So instead of making the issue of ‘rape’ a gender issue, how about we address as a problem that is actively ruining the lives of millions of people? How about not trying to point the finger at anyone with a cock and balls and instead just pointing the finger at rapists?

Remember how sexism is bad when it’s against women? It’s just as bad when it’s against men. It’s not reverse-sexism, it’s just sexism.

Consider your audience

‘And he often says to me, “Can we just make it through one dinner where you don’t talk about rape?”
To which I reply, “Can we just make it through one of the Earth’s rotations around the sun where i can walk on the street with as much right to safety as you, just because you have a penis?”

‘ – Clementine Ford, speaking about her boyfriend

You know what the absolute best way is to make someone lose any interest in, and compassion for, a subject? Bombard them with it incessantly until they couldn’t care any more even if they wanted to.

Ms Ford’s boyfriend is clearly going to be on her side about the whole ‘let’s not rape people’ thing, otherwise he wouldn’t be her boyfriend, right? So I’m going to assume he’s not raping her, is extremely unlikely to have raped anyone in the past, or to rape anyone in the future. So why won’t Ms Ford listen to her boyfriend’s request to make it through one dinner without talking about rape?I believe the answer is simple. Ms Ford is misunderstanding who her audience is. She is preaching to the choir, so to speak, but she’s doing it to the point that even the choir doesn’t want to hear about it anymore.Constantly reasserting the facets of our culture which contribute to casual acceptance of rape and a lack of empathy towards victims is, I believe, actually detrimental to the cause of raising awareness. This is because the only people who are actually listening in the first place are the ones who already have enough human decency to understand that rape is a problem. Barking the same lines at those decent human beings over and over will only lead to them running out of care factor.

That might be a horrible fact to acknowledge, but I absolutely believe it’s the truth. Think about it… people lose interest in international tragedies in which thousands of people have died, within weeks, if not days of the disasters. Why would the term Rape Culture not also become something that people begin to tune out?

Blame

One of the aspects of the rape culture movement that I think has been a benefit to society is the effort to identify victim blaming and to provide valid and indisputable counter arguments.

There is no excuse to rape someone and I hope that bringing that to the attention of people will help to reassure anyone who has been sexually assault to stop making allowances and/or excuses for their attackers and instead go and report them to the authorities. Anything that increases the legitimate prosecution of sexual predators is a good thing.

What’s not a good thing is confusing blame, with logic.

To point out that you’re less likely to get raped if you stay at home in your own bed completely sober, than going to a frat party and getting drunk out of your mind and using every drug you can find is not an effort towards blaming a victim, it’s stating a fact. There’s no denying that women do get raped in their beds at home, but the frequency with which that occurs is much lower than the incidences of sexual assaults at parties in which young women are consuming large quantities of alcohol and narcotics.

Pointing out a fact is not the same as blaming the victim.

To suggest that it’s a bad idea for an attractive young woman to go to a drug and alcohol fueled party being hosted by a group of young men who are used to getting away with everything, and then get drunk and use drugs there, is a bad idea… that’s not blaming the young woman, that’s just being rational.

To tell that same young girl the day after the party that she was raped by those young men would be far worse than telling her not to go in the first place.

Yes, there are people out there in the world who would say to that rape victim that she was “asking for it”, and that’s fucked up, but it’s also ridiculous to pretend that she couldn’t have made better decisions.

That image above stating “Don’t tell women what not to wear, Tell men not to rape” isn’t very helpful, and it’s an example of the black and white thinking which pollutes sensible thinking about how to reduce sexual assaults. For starters, teaching men not to rape does not preclude us from also teaching women what attire might draw unwanted attention.

No, I didn’t just say that if a woman should be raped if she is wearing the wrong clothes. What I did say was that some clothes draw the wrong attention. Walking through the wrong areas also increases the likelihood of receiving unwanted attention. Being overly flirtatious also increases the likelihood of receiving unwanted attention. Again, I’m not saying that any of that is ok, I’m just saying that’s what happens.

So, instead of assuming that I’m assigning blame, how about considering if there’s a potential benefit to avoiding unwanted attention?

I’m a guy who is 190cm (6’3″) tall, currently weighing in at 90kg (200lbs), and I try to avoid unwanted attention. I do so because, even though I know it’s illegal for someone to stab me, and even though I don’t like that society hasn’t completely eliminated stabbings, I’d still prefer to avoid situations in which I know I’m more likely to be stabbed. I’m not going to assume that anytime I walk through a neighbourhood renowned for gang violence late at night that I’m going to get stabbed, but I am going to assume that the chances of me being stabbed go up if I do choose to go there.

If I did get stabbed after wandering through a place known for gang violence, don’t you think that someone might just ask me what the fuck I was doing there? Would that be insensitive as all shit? OF COURSE! But does that make the question any less reasonable? Unfortunately, no.

We don’t have to like the truth. We don’t have to stop pushing towards the ideal world we all dream of, where we’ll all be safe all the time, but we do have to accept that there are certain things we can do to help protect ourselves from things we don’t want to happen to us.

None of this is excusing the actions of any sexual predator. I’d be in favour of castrating those pieces of shit who commit rape and other sexual crimes, but seeing your rapist punished is not nearly as good as avoiding being raped in the first place.

Focus

Like I said at the start, Ms Ford isn’t wrong, I just think she doesn’t understand the male side of the story. Pretending that rape is something that only happens to women and that every man is a rapist in waiting is so far from the truth that it’s offensive. It’s also offensive to pretend that women play no role in their own protection.

I don’t want women to live in fear, but I don’t think they should be so foolish as to pretend there aren’t dangerous people out in the world.

What people can do to massively impact the affect of rapists on society is to press charges against them, and I believe that is the most important thing to focus on. By reporting sexual assaults the perpetrator is more likely to be put in prison, and therefore more likely to be unable to assault anyone else.

I also think it’s essential to educate people about the situations in which sexual assaults occur, and how best to avoid being in those situations. I think it’s hugely important that people separate ‘blaming victims’ from analysing data and making useful suggestions based on the findings.

As for Ms Ford

I have no doubt Ms Ford is generating beneficial results already, even with a slightly askew take on things, I just hope she broadens her understanding of the issue of sexual assault. It’s obvious that Ms Ford’s heart is in the right place, and I believe that’s true of most women who are so vocal about ‘rape culture’.

Human being tip: If anyone has ever sexually assaulted you, it’s not your fault in any way. If you can handle the stress of reporting them, please do so.

ps: You might be interested in reading about how I dealt with an alcohol fueled, sexually charged situation, which I discuss in the Origins series.

Snog, Marry, Avoid

1 Feb

Some women go overboard with their ‘style’. Snog, Marry, Avoid is an effort to resolve that.

Crazy bitch tip: When your own children are telling you you’re wearing a bit too much make up, you might want to listen to them.

Origins #8

1 Feb

We ditched the trolly out the front of my apartment building and laughed our way up the stairs to my shitty little apartment. Y’know, I’m a bit harsh on my place. It’s a very small two bedroom unit thing but it does sit above the others and has a nice enough view over the city of Perth.

Rene and I spilled in through the door, both reasonably drunk and a quite knackered from the walk. Pushing the shopping trolly laden with one boss’s daughter aboard for a few blocks had taken the wind out of my sails for the time being.

Shots fired!

And what’s the smartest thing for a guy to do once he’s got his somewhat drunk boss’s daughter in his apartment? Why, offer her a drink of course!

I assumed Rene would ask for a water or cool drink or something. “You should make me a cocktail!”, was her actual response. I don’t know where she thought I was hiding the cocktail bar. I just laughed and told her it’d have to be a cocktail shooter. Making mixed drinks is just one more thing I know bugger all about, but when I was 18 I did learn to layer drinks in a shot glass, so I got to work on that.

Shot cocktail collection: Red and Blue Tequila

Like this but wayyyyy less classy

Changing it up

The reason we were at my place, as far as I was concerned, was for me to get changed so we could head off to humiliate ourselves at the nearest karaoke bar. With that in mind I told Rene I’d go get changed out of my work uniform into something more appropriate for drunkenly screaming into a microphone in front of bewildered strangers. I changed into a half decent looking shirt and a pair of jeans and switched my sneakers for some shoes nice enough to get me past the ridiculous footwear expectations at the bars in Perth.

I was all prettied up and ready to go but Rene had other ideas.

“You haven’t showed me around your place yet”, she explained. So I gave her the grand tour or the loungeroom/kitchen, the balcony and the second bedroom, which had my weights bench set up in it. This caught Rene’s interest and she decided she wanted to have a crack at bench-pressing what I had on the bar. To my surprise, she actually managed to get the bar back up mostly on her own. She wanted to go for another but I warned her I was probably too drunk to spot her properly, and that we should quit that particular endeavor as winners.

Instead of leaving the room though, she hopped up on the weights bench and leaned up against the window looking out at the view. It struck me how that was the most ridiculous way you could go about seeing the view. I mean, you don’t need to be on your knees on a weights bench with your arse pushed back to get a look at the view. Yes, I did appreciate the view I was getting in that scenario, but I still wasn’t planning on any shenanigans of that nature.

Bullshit! You were after something!

Yep. I’d be lying to say I wasn’t hoping for something to happen that night. What I was hoping for was that Rene would cut the bullshit and let me know she was actually interested. I figured once we’d both admitted that we were into each other, we could figure out if it was worth doing anything about. I was hoping for words, rather than actions, because actions are what would get me in trouble. Words were risky but a lot safer.

I wasn’t so keen to admit I was into Rene. I don’t think I’d really even considered if I was into her or not. I had so much more contact with her sister Laura, and I’d caught myself becoming interested in her but I’d always shut it down because she had a boyfriend. With Rene, I had a crush going for her but I’d never thought about anything beyond that because she wasn’t around as much and because I didn’t really understand what she was after, and I thought she was out of my league anyway. I couldn’t tell what she was really after, and I wasn’t going to get carried away overthinking a bit of flirtation here and there.

There was also the issue that, if I was going to be stupid enough to have a go with either of the Everlong sisters, I would have to choose carefully because I was certain that trying with one meant blowing my chances with the other. I didn’t realistically think I had a chance with either of them, but y’know how it is… when you daydream about possibilities you still like to keep your options open.

But there I was with Rene in my place, both of us fairly drunk and she was throwing some seriously flirting my way.

Better call Laura

Whenever things seemed to be calming down for a second, Rene would demand we have another drink, so I kept making those goofy layered shots and we kept knocking them back. They were full of vodka and advocate and whatever else I could find. They weren’t tasty, but Rene was pretty keen to keep the alcohol flowing.

I was in two minds as to how to deal with the situation I was in. Heading out to the city meant taking my boss’s daughter out on the town when she was already acting a bit over the top, but staying at my place meant potentially doing something that might jeopardize my job. I thought it was a safer bet to head out for karaoke, so I suggested it. Rene told me she’d rather hang out at my place for a while, that maybe we’d go later but we should watch a movie or something in the meantime while she rested up from the walk to my place.

Rene and Laura were very tight-knit sisters, so Rene decided she’d better let her older sister know where she was. That seemed pretty reasonable to me at the time but I quickly realised that having the family who own and manage the company I work for talking about the fact that the youngest daughter was at my place, and sounding a bit drunk, might not be a greatest thing for me.

I’m not a wise man when I’ve been drinking, or ever really, so the best solution I could come up with was to find a humourous interruption to make it obvious that nothing dodgey was happening. A flicker of stupidity ran through my head and I grabbed my guitar, interrupting the phone call with a magnificent rendition of “Burn for you” by John Farnham.

I chose that particular song because it had come up in conversation with Laura earlier in the day, in the same conversation where we ended up talking about letting people know if you want kids or not.

John Farnham

John Farnham was a hugely popular singer in Australia. I bring him up because he happens to play a weirdly significant role in the overall story. If you want to learn more about him, check out his wikipedia page but suffice to say, he was massively popular in Australia, especially throughout the 80s and early 90s and the Everlong family and I, and pretty much everyone else, were all adoring fans of the guy. That fandom will come into things later on.

Anyway, in the conversation I’d had with Laura earlier in the day, I mentioned that I loved the song Burn For You and she told she thought it was Farnsy’s most boring song, so when I chose to interrupt Rene’s conversation with Laura by playing that specific song, I was being a cheeky bugger. I was playing a song I knew she found annoying and thought was a great way to imply that everyone at my place still had our clothes on and we were just having fun being silly.

The backfire

Rene finished up the call with her sister, put her phone away, and suddenly burst into tears. At the exact same time, I felt my phone vibrate like I’d just gotten about 10 text messages. I ignored the texts for the time being and squished up next to Rene to ask her what was going on. As it happens, the lyrical content of the song Burn For You is all about a guy who’s desperately in love with a woman, Rene had completely misinterpreted my choice to play that specific song to Laura at that point in time.

Through her tears Rene said, “You like Laura don’t you?”
“What to do you mean? What are you talking about?”, I said.
“You’re interested in her. You don’t like me, do you?”, she said.
“Where’s this coming from? She’s got a boyfriend!”, I asked her.
“Yeah she’s got a boyfriend and you still like her more. Why do you like her more than me? What does she have that I don’t have?”, Rene sobbed.

By this point I’d wrapped an arm around Rene in an effort to console her. My other hand was on her knee. She sat there on my couch with her knees up in front of her, her head down, tears rolling down her face. I’d done my best to ignore it but I did have a crush on her and had done for a long time. There I was trying to console this girl who I liked as she cried because she thought I wasn’t interested in her. This same girl had made it clear earlier that night that she wants people to treat her like a normal girl and forget that she’s my boss’s daughter. I was stuck with the choice of either telling her that I’d liked her for a long time, or leaving her to cry in front of me in my own place.

Rene stopped talking but continued to cry. I leaned in and kissed her. She kissed me back. It was one of the most intense kisses I’ve ever been a part of. I remember the slight taste of salt on her lips from the tears. I remember that the way she kissed me back reassured me that I hadn’t made the wrong choice.

 

Crazy bitch tip: If you spend all your time concealing your intentions, don’t expect people to trust you.

%d bloggers like this: