It was all going so well. One moment I’m in with this group of girls who were totally digging me, and the next I’m trying to figure out what the fuck happened. My best friend from high school, “Sleazy-E,” is leering and smirking at me as his swiftly delivered revenge dealt a punishing blow to my ego. He walks up to me and says, “Revenge is a bitch.”
The previous weekend I had just returned home on leave from my first deployment to Iraq. Excited to have me back in town, Sleazy-E invited me to a house party some students from his university were hosting. Being a 19-year-old kid who had not been to a real party in ages, I was more than eager to go.
We arrived at the party, which was located at some suburban house in Riverside. Most of the people there knew Sleazy-E in one capacity or another, and he was pumping me up to be a big deal by telling everyone, “This is my friend Raul and he just came back from Iraq and fought for your freedom!”
Most of the college students were asking me the same standard questions they ask every veteran: “Was it hot there?” … “See any of those freaky camel spiders?” … “You kill anybody?” … “What do you think of George W.?” … “Fuck any of those Arab chicks?” … and so on.
Though it was a decent-sized party, the girl-to-guy ratio was atrocious, so I was on a scouting mission for some poon. At one point, I saw this cute blonde Sleazy-E was talking to. Not thinking much of it, I came up and start talking to her also. As Sleazy-E and I talk and drink with her, I get the feeling she is more into me than into him.
Sleazy-E goes away for a moment and I start heavily flirting with the blonde. He returns and is boxed out, and I fail to notice that he is quite upset that I have cockblocked him. Eventually, I get a peck on the lips from her and she gives me her number. I eventually leave the party, and I’m oblivious to the fact that Sleazy-E would let this event boil deep inside his core and wait for the proper moment to get revenge.
Fast-forward to the next weekend. Sleazy-E’s fraternity is hosting a party and I get invited. I show up and do the standard drinking, socializing, and talking about pseudo-intellectual bullshit that college-aged kids tend to talk about because they have the world figured out. I wasn’t having much success with any of the girls—that is, until three of them took a liking to the fact that I was in the Army.
I ran with this, talking highly of my Army career for the next few hours. They were eating it up. The voluptuous Latina girl who was an overall 7 was my target of choice. The group—and especially the Latina—grew more and more interested in me. She even allowed me to rest my hand on her leg, which is my standard move to see if it’s good to escalate to the next step. Confident that I have this locked down and they’ll wait a few minutes for me, I go to the bathroom to take a piss.
Little did I know that Sleazy-E was watching this interaction and was brewing a ploy to get even in his head. He walked up to them and makes small talk.
Sleazy-E: “Have you met this guy named Raul? Apparently he goes around to parties and says he is in the Army. I think that’s kind of sad. He even had a fake military ID made. But in reality he is just a garbage man.”
Girls: “What? Really?”
Sleazy-E: “Yeah, well I have to go to the bathroom. See you ladies later.”
I come back to the group of girls and notice Sleazy-E leaving them, but I think nothing of it.
Raul: “Hey, ladies…”
Girls: “We heard something interesting about you. Just wanted to let you know that you don’t have to lie to us. We think you’re cool and have nothing to be ashamed of.”
Raul: “Huh? What are you talking about?”
Girls: “That you’re really a garbage man.”
Raul: “What? No I’m not! I’m a fucking soldier!”
Girls: “Come on now, someone told us that you say that to impress girls. Its kind of messed up, you know? There are real soldiers out there risking their lives. Just because you aren’t one doesn’t mean you’re not a valuable part of a society.”
Raul: “What the fuck? But I am a fucking soldier! I just got back from Iraq! Here is my military ID to prove it.”
Girls: “We heard you got a fake one. That’s really sad.”
Raul: “What the fuck? I’m a goddamn veteran! Why don’t you believe me? Why the fuck would I lie about that?”
Girls: “We don’t know, but we don’t talk to liars. It was nice meeting you. Maybe if you truly want to be a soldier, you should just join the Army instead of lying about it.”
Raul: “What the hell is happening?”
I continued to frantically press my case that I wasn’t an impostor and in fact the real deal, but the girls weren’t having it and they walked away. Sleazy-E came up to me with a huge grin because his plan worked out perfectly.
I spent the night completely mind-fucked by the experience and spiraled into a vicious cycle of drinking, getting rejected, drinking some more, getting rejected some more, and settled into a lonely, pussy-free stupor.
I know you’re reading this, Sleazy-E, with a self-satisfied grin on your face. Fuck you!
Note: While I still maintain my recollection of said events is true, my other best friend K-Dawg, who was a third-party witness to the series of events, insists that I did cockblock Sleazy-E a week before:
Raul has successfully portrayed himself as the hapless victim, but what you don’t know is the truth that night. In his inebriation he seems to have mistaken receptiveness and disgust. From my objective third-person point of view he did not simply stroll up to have a conversation with the blonde and Sleazy-E. He waited until Sleazy-E had to go to the bathroom, stumbled over, hit on her crudely, and by the time Sleazy-E had returned she had left in disgust.