BLOG » naked in bed with boys i don’t love (part 4):
(continued from HERE)
the rapper and i puffed our cigars. i hoped he couldn’t tell i was turning green. in a bold move that only an insecure drunk white girl with bangs and sloppy eyeliner can make, thinking i was playing it cool and coming off as artfully bizarre and interesting- i switched tactics/decided to up the ante of my approach: i casually told the rapper that i’d never had an orgy before and that if he wanted, he should include me in whatever antics he was gonna get into later with the hired escorts.
it didn’t end there. i thought it would be helpful to paint a specific picture for him and suggested we all get a hotel room, a lot of champagne and get ‘way weird’. he seemed into it! OMG! i was so lucky! i mean, the night just could NOT end without me giving it my all in my quest to bed a rapper. who knows when i’d have this chance again?! i mean, i know i could actively seek out sleeping with rappers, but that’s just not my style. who has the time? i mean, that would be embarrassing. i prefer when opportunities to embarrass myself fall in my lap!
i sat on his lap while we sat around a table chatting with some guy with an accent. when i asked the guy with the accent what his name was, the rapper said ‘you don’t know who that is?’ i didn’t. but when i found out, i couldn’t believe it. this was my lucky day! i couldn’t believe it! what a babe! it was as if my vision board came to life. that was a joke. kind of. i know what i sound like. just stay with me. accent guy was/is a very well-known Scottish actor. tall and handsome, rugged good looks. he’d just been on the cover of all the tabloids having been released from rehab. why was he at this party then surrounded by all this temptation?
i asked accent guy to stand up so i could asses his height. that’s a big deal for me. i like men to be taller than me. it’s my issue/my problem. i know this. it just makes me feel small, and therefore more feminine. how dare you?! anyway, he stood up and we went from standing back to back, rubbing our bums together, to standing face to face- looking into eacothers eyes. i asked if he was drinking, he said no. oh phew! good for him!
a girl got up to get a champagne. immediately, without thinking or meaning to, i turned MYSELF into accent guy’s enabler and said: ‘will you get me a champagne too?’
accent guy/Scottish movie star: ‘i’m not getting you a champagne.’
me: ‘how come?’
Scotland: ‘if you were fucking me, i’d get you a champagne.’
me: ‘but how do you ever expect me to fuck you if you don’t get me a champagne.’
out of nowhere, the fedora guy from earlier swooped in: he whispered in my ear, told me he wasn’t leaving the party without my phone number and handed me a pen and a piece of paper. as if this moment were choreographed, i wrote down my info and told him to call me tomorrow. he scampered off. how exciting! wait, he was cute right? yeah, he was cute! i felt like i was in a movie. the night was so sexy. i mean, how could it go wrong?
the movie star/accent guy, the rapper and the prostitutes (whoops, i mean high-class escorts) all got up. the party was in a transitional state. a wave of thoughts and feeling flooded over me: ‘oh no! why? i was getting cozy! we were making a company move? that would take so much effort. house parties are great!’ but people wanted to go see some ‘it’ band play at some small hollywood club.
the rapper took me by the hand and we left the party. but wait, what was i gonna do with my car? i told the valet that i wanted to leave my car there; that i was too drunk to drive. but the valet said ‘no’ and brought my car up for me. wtf? there was no way i was gonna drive. i don’t do that. this was as close to a stupid (car & alcohol related) situation as i was gonna get. fuck! why didn’t i take a cab like i USUALLY do?!
so how did i remedy the sitch? instead of getting into the rappers escalade, his huge brother (not in the slang sense, but in the actual blood related sense) who must have been over 200 pounds and like 6’9 – crammed himself into my prius and drove my car to the club. it was the cutest thing i’d ever seen! to the naked eye: he was big, he was black, and he looked like a scary thug! but in reality: he was the sweetest teddy bear of a guy (who lived in the valley and had probably murdered someone).
now that i think about it, i’m pretty sure he was wearing cargo pants. whatever THAT means. he listened as i explained how to use the push button start and as i yammered on about how ‘surely no rapper would wanna sexxx me, cuz i don’t have an ass and i’m all white and weird-looking and not a rappers demo! i don’t look like kim k or coco!’ but 6’9 was so encouraging. he told me that if i took him back to my place, he’d TOTALLY fuck me! i appreciated that, but i said we should probs keep with our original plan and go to the club. so off we went, just me and a 200 and something pound rappers bro/entourage dude in cargo pants that i’d never met before who was now driving my car. off we went to da klub… (to be continued)