Soundtrack: Tipsy by J-Kwon.
Somewhere along the way, Number 3 (AKA The Bad Memory) had befriended, then dated, a girl that I was friends with. Let’s call her Becky. On the run up to Number 3’s birthday, Becky had asked if we would mind throwing a small birthday bash at The Flat – and that’s how I learned that they were dating. I said yes because I was already drunk (and it was always any excuse for a party,) on the condition that Bestie and I could invite a couple of our friends too.
The deal was done. I invited two gal pals, and Bestie invited two bro friends. One of them was The OMG Guy, but he didn’t have that blog name yet. That would come later on in the night, once things had spiralled out of control into something that I still don’t quite believe was real. Alas, it was recorded on a video camera, then transferred to VHS tapes, then moved to three DVDS… which I *still* own. Most of the night was on one of those damn tapes, which is how my drunk ass knew that the events were, in fact, real and not a mad figment of my imagination.
Spin the Bottle
Various party games were played that night, all with the intention of getting everyone as drunk and naked as possible. I span, and it landed on Becky, which everyone booted and hollered at.
“Kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss.”
So, we kissed. And kissed. And kissed.
“Ummmm, That’s my girlfriend!” The Bad Memory laughed.
The kiss, it seemed, had planted an idea in Becky’s head. She grabbed my arm, telling everyone we were going to the loo, then dragged me in there.
“I think we should have a threesome!” she announced. I laughed. “I’m serious. It’s his birthday. We’re basically wearing the same outfit. Why not?”
The outfit in question, in case you care, was a bustier/corset, worn as a top, with skinny jeans, tucked into knee-high black platform boots. Because why not?
Because I was feeling slutty, and drunk, I agreed. To a threesome. With a man that I’d already slept with and pretty much despised. Again, why not?
At some point during the night, the entire group of twenty-or-so people all stumbled to the local 24-hour petrol station for more cigarettes. We stopped in a pub on the way home for shots of Goldschläger. Then, it was time to go back to The Flat and work on our surprise threesome. The Bad Memory had no idea yet.
[Another] Threesome That Wasn’t
None of us went to bed when we got back despite our plans; instead, we drank more, played more party games, and eventually ended up in some rather precarious positions during a game of truth or dare.
During this game, I apparently found The OMG Guy hilarious. And what happens when I’m drunk and find a man funny? Yes, that’s right: I fuck him. Slag. The more he made me laugh, the more I forgot about the proposed surprise threesome. Eventually, out of sight of Bestie, I dragged OMG Guy to my bed.
Things started out relatively normally. Clothes came off. Giggles. A few whispered expletives. You know? He was on top, and everything was fine. I mean, I was not going to come, but it was fine. But then I had the idea to ride him. That’s when everything changed. It became quite clear that he was going to come quickly, with me up there. Unfortunately, this came with a side order of some of the strangest noises, I’ve ever heard in my life.
There were a few “OH MY GOD” moments that made him sound like Donald Duck. It didn’t help that he repeated those three words over and over and over again. Loudly. Loud enough for everyone at the party to hear.
OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD
Oh, my fucking god.
I’m all for expressing yourself in bed, but this was something else entirely. I actually laughed out loud. It went down like a lead ballon, but I was drunk, and he was being ridiculous, and I couldn’t help it. I just had to laugh.
Afterwards, when he rolled over and almost instantly started snoring, I dipped out and into the kitchen.
“OH MY GOD OH MY GOD,” three people laughed in unison. It was like a comedy sketch. I laughed back, when resulted in the inevitable dribble of jizz down my bare leg, which at least one person saw. Maybe two.
The next morning, right after OMG Guy left, he text me: “You’re emo. I’m chavvy. It’s never going to work.”
The fucking cheek of that guy! I had absolutely no intentions of seeing him again, and even fewer of fucking him. How dare he dump me? Still, it saved me from having to have an awkward conversation.
Oh, my god, though.
Shudders. A threesome with the disgusting Bad Memory would actually have been preferable, I think.
The next blog post in the dating timeline is this one: Number 22: The Bus Driver.
Thank you so much for reading my blog today! 🖤
You can read all about my disastrous dating history, right from the beginning, right here: Table of Dating Contents.
Alternatively, why not have a little peek around here: