A unstoppable urge swelled up in me. I had to get messed up and I had to go out again. I scoured the apartment for drugs. My roommate just broke his collar bone; I thought maybe there were some painkillers lying around. All I could find was more Ambien. Why not? I crushed one up and snorted it.
I’ve thought a lot about whether or not to have sex on the first date, and a lot of people have told me that I ought to take things a little slower. I’ve given that advice careful consideration, and with that careful consideration, I’ve decided that it’s not advice I want to follow. If sex presents itself on a first date and it seems appealing, the reasons to go for it are plentiful, and the reasons not to, insignificant.
I stood there. I felt embarrassed and humiliated, of course, but I realized that the situation had now totally come to an end in a comedic twist of events. Suddenly I found myself saying, “damn girl – you a lesbian?”
Seeing the apparent depth of her hatred for me, I suddenly became intrigued. What had I done to warrant such passion? I felt oddly compelled by her, and I even felt some turmoil in my loins. I imagined that having sex with someone who hates me might actually be pretty good.
In the bedroom, I took all of my clothes off. I started to think of myself as an attractive piece of meat for them to play with, and I was OK with that. I started to make out with Katie. I made short order of getting her undressed. I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to be doing about Patricia, who was so far uninvolved.
She made several trips downstairs, so to speak, and told me that she really loved giving blow jays. In fact, as a feminist she made a point of taking as much pleasure as possible in giving blow jays. I was a little confused about the logic of a feminist enjoying giving blow jays, but since I was getting a blow jay at that moment I didn’t think about it very much.
On the bus I sipped gin and started to feel shitty. I passed out and when I was in New Jersey near Manhattan, I woke up and felt great. I called my roommate and told him that we had to party as soon as I got back. At my apartment, the two of us railed the rest of the Ativan and drank a 24oz can of Bud each. I was feeling tired, so I bought an Adderall off of him and took that.
I’m twenty-two years old; in May I graduated from a small liberal arts college, freaked out for about 5 months, and now I’m doing ok living in Brooklyn. I’ve been to the hospital for various reasons nine separate times. Seven of these were related to problems that affected me downstairs. The worst was when I got circumcised; that was about three weeks ago. It’s still pretty painful.