Trying to Forget Your Girlfriend
11:30 pm: Arrive at basement show outside Louisville. The band hasn’t shown up yet. Begin to get drunk; rum and Cokes on ice —mostly rum. Stand in the corner of the kitchen, still wearing aviator sunglasses. Try to look cool, put out a vibe.
11:41: Band shows up and begins to lug their gear downstairs. Give nod to the drummer, some grungy-looking kid wearing a pink t‑shirt shirt that says I FOUND BOBBITT’S PENIS. JEALOUS? Feel jealousy for a split-second, then think about where I can find a shirt that’s as awesome.
12:10 am: Notice blonde girl looking at me from couch in the living room. Short, curly hair, nose ring, tattoos on her arms. Rap music is playing as I try to look cool, bouncing my head in rhythm with the thumping beats.
12:12: Neck begins to hurt from the bouncing. Start to become nauseous. Decide to stop.
12:25: Find it weird that the band hasn’t played. Watch the drummer with the bitchin’ shirt jump onto the red couch drunk and screaming how he’s going to reenact the Passion of The Christ. People gather around, but I snake through the crowd to the dining room. I don’t care for Mel Gibson movies.
1:01: More rap music as I stand in the corner. The chorus is a barrage of orders to shake my ass and pimp my bitches. Shake my ass and pimp my hoes. I think why not, sounds like fun, that I should try to loosen up. I climb onto the coffee table to shake my ass and find some bitches.
1:03: Shake my ass a little too hard and get out of control. Fall flat on my back off the coffee table. People laugh and point and dump beer on me. Lift myself up, walk back to the living room, and plop on the couch. Note to self: pimping bitches isn’t for everyone.
1:20: Blonde girl sits down next to me and tells me she saw me dancing, says she wanted to remind me I’m white. She asks me if I want to make out and I say I’m not sure, she says okay. She sits back in the couch and crosses her legs and holds my hand. It feels warm.
1:42: In the basement the band finally starts to play. They’re called the Electric Faggots.
1:50: Find out that the Electric Faggots suck. Their set doesn’t last very long. One of the band members drags the passed-out guitarist upstairs next to me and the blonde girl. He proceeds to strip him naked while everyone else in the room writes all over him with red marker. The blonde girl writes I SHOOT TOO SOON next to his penis. I laugh. We make out.
2:10: Blonde girl tells me she is actually a lesbian, but she’s been with men too. Things feel weird, but we continue to make out, drinking beers and downing shots between kissing and groping.
2:15: The lesbian and I fuck in the upstairs bathroom. She tells me I’m good and I think of Jane, the girl who just broke up with me because she turned out to be a lesbian. Ask this lesbian if I can call her Jane, and she says she doesn’t mind.
3:02: Sneak back downstairs while blonde Jane sleeps. Have more beers and shots, then pass out in the corner of the kitchen.
?:?? a.m. (someone stole my watch): Wake up, sick from the night before, still thinking about real Jane. Realize there’s red marker visible along the side of my nose. Someone has drawn on my face, something awful I’m sure. Fall back to sleep.
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