So having just ditched Druggy McBadkisser (or Boy #1) in I Was On a Boat: (Motherfucker) I was ready to take this party up a notch. But where does one start? I'm pretty sure my next step involved utilizing a homemade bong (beer not pot) made of a huge ass steel pipe, a funnel and an elaborate flood light system (these boys knew what the fuck they were doing). You may recall I was drinking the Purple Sizzurp not beer so partaking in this kind of fun would definitely be accepting a big challenge. After all the dancing, the bad kissing and now the purple sizzurping (for those not familiar with beer bongs and/or physics...by having a straight steel pipe instead of a soft winding plastic tube, the speed at which the liquid is shoved down your throat by gulps and gravity is magnetic and priceless...aka...fast), it would be safe to say I was sufficiently hammeded. In a good and healthy lady-like fashion obviously. But hammed nonetheless. So we took a wander up to a fire on the beach.
When we got to the fire. Alas. There were no empty chairs. And that my friends, is when Boy #2 stepped up his knight in shining armor gig and offered me his chair. There was a hitch of course. This was under the presumption that he would then get to sit on my lap. This was weird. But also hilarious. All in all. Charming. And who the fuck was I to turn down a chair with my head swimming in Sizzurp? Plus Boy #2 was cute. Sold. Also, I wasn't entirely sure he was serious. Apparently he was.
Detour. For every boy that has an elaborate pickup system, there is a girl who will think it's endearing/hilarious/awesome/fall worthy.
At first he just kind of perched, with his back to me, clearly holding up his own weight. But before long he had turned around and was saying something clever. By clever, I obviously just mean he was able to string words together. And we all know I love a man who can string words together. More and more people start to congregate around the fire. And that's when I see his friends. Just your normal group of guys. On a stag. But the weird bit? Turns out one of the guys. Is a dude we went to highschool with. Small world. And you're probably asking yourself??? Why the fuck is she rambling on about some dude from high school that doesn't appear to be a part of the story??? Foreshadowing my friends, foreshadowing.
There was brief chatting and then everyone decided that we should take the party onto their (Boy #2, Mr. High-School-Reunion and their Stag-Co-Conspirators') boat. People began to take off to the second location. But obviously I wasn't leaving until Boy #2 got up off me. So we straggled. The numbers thinned. The fire died. And Boy #2 laid it on me. And before I knew it. We were making out like high school teenagers. And what's better. And by better I mean worse. But worse being better in that it was hilarious. Though some people had moved to the next locale. There were still easily 10-15 people sitting around the fire. Like less than 5 feet away. People from my boat. People from his boat. People from all kinds of other boats). Sure I could try and pretend this wasn't a gongshow in saying that because he was turned from the fire looking at me that no one could see...but cut the shit. We were a fucking dinner show.
I can't really tell you how long (memory gets fuzzy like that) but at some point the Purple Sizzurp haze began to wear off just a bit and I became all too aware of the spectacle we were putting on and suggested we follow our gang to Boy #2 and gang's houseboat. He was in, so off we went. However, when we got there for some reason that was not where the party was at. There were only about 3 guys who appeared deep in conversation...or playing poker...in the kitchen. He stopped and had a chat while I stood there. FUCKING SO AWKWARD!!! And then his dumb ass proceeded to hit the little boys room while I...wait for it. wait for it. Stood there. In the kitchen. In total silence. The kind of silence that happens when you walk into a room where people were talking about you. The 3 guys just sat there. Trying to contain their catcalls and high fives for what seemed like the longest 3 minutes of my life.
When the torture was over, we headed up yet another spiral staircase (the another refers to this being the second of my night with a boy, not that their boat had more than one staircase). He lead me into a room. Now for anybody who's ever been on a houseboat. The notion of beds and rooms can range from box size hole in the wall to the very thing he lead me into. It was the only room on the top floor. Had a full (okay well double which in houseboat land is like a king) bed.
And that's when it happened. It got all romantic. The kissing was soft and gentle but delicious. He slid his hands around my waist and laid me down on the bed. His movements were my movements, he ebbed and I
PSYCH!
People please! It was sloppy. It was fumbly. I couldn't tell you his name if you paid me. We were drunk and on a boat for fuck's sakes. But. It was still far better than Boy #1. We must have been making out for awhile. And had become shirtless awhile back. When I noticed. Oh My God!!!! (I yelled) There's someone in here (I whispered). There was a man sitting at the foot of the bed. Just sitting there. Fucking watching us. And I know you're thinking if that isn't the creepiest thing I've ever heard wait. Because it gets better. Guess who it was??? None other than Mr. High-School-Reunion. Just sitting there. Fuckin' hanging out. Or pervin' it up. Whatever. Is that not fucking disturbing? Though I will say, boys, being boys, tend not to care about that shit. I'm sure if I hadn't made a fuss Boy #2 wouldn't have gave a shit. But since Mr. High-School-Reunion was fast becoming his cock blocker, Boy #2 kicked his ass out.
I personally was more disturbed by the silent nature of the lurking than the actual lurking. I mean. Where the fuck had he come from? Had he been hiding in the room when we barged in and just never said anything? Had he snuck in sometime when we were busy fooling around? I mean. What. The. Fuck.
So obviously we did what anybody would do after a jolting experience like that. We went right back to messing around. Only the thing of the thing was. There would be no sex. I had managed to find the one dude stupid enough to not have a condom and/or stupid enough to think that he could convince me on a cess-pool weekend such as this that going bareback was an acceptable option. Boy please. But this is not to say the fun ended here. But before any real fun could happen. There was another cock blocking situation a foot.
Everybody knows that in order for a party to be considered a "Stag" there has to be a Groom-to-Be. And somehow. Through a series of misinterpretations. The whole fucking boatload of party-goers came under the assumption that I was, in fact, was the temptress causing a man to stray before he even had a chance to say the vows which he would stray from. And how do you think we found this out?? About 10 fists came a pounding at the bedroom door. Loud. Obnoxious. Incessant. Pounding. And yelling. Inaudible yelling. And when we could take it no more. We answered the door. What? The? Fuck?!?!?! And that's when the yelling from my lovely party ladies became clear He's the groom!!! He's the groom!!! He's the groom!!!
Um. Are you the groom???
He was not. The confusion? We were in fact in the groom's room. (which was apparently fine as Boy #2 had previously got the go-ahead). Subsequently the groom had taken off for a walk or something equally tame. And finally since I didn't know the name of my fella, I obviously hadn't been talking him up to the ladies so they of course had no clue who I was with (though I have pictures to show he existed lol!).
A mood killer for some, we were not to be tamed. And shut & locked the door (while first checking for stowaways) and carried on like nobody's business. Of course the condom or lack thereof was never NOT going to be an issue so after awhile we just passed out. And then the next thing I remember, the sun was coming up and I was trying to keep last night's consumptions down. Luckily I had been smart enough in my stuper-state to get redressed before passing out (this ain't my first rodeo kids) so in the morning light all I had to do was find my shoes and try not to vomit on the floor.
Stealth like a ninja I had my shoes on and was out the door without notice. Whew! Down the spiral stairs I came, though with fear in my throat as I thought fuck I'm going to have to walk through the whole boat as the stairs were at the rear. But miraculously their boat (unlike ours) had and outside wrap-around deck. Saved!!! or so I thought. I was around the deck in a heartbeat and just when I had reached the front of the boat and was about to walk down the plank onto the beach...I heard it. Clapping. Loud boisterous clapping. And cheering. For their buddy. For me. All in good fun. Honestly I would have turned around and bowed had it not been for the fact that I was preoccupied with being kind of drunk and trying not to fall off the 10 inch wide plank into the water 6 feet below.
My feet hit the beach and I thought. Home Free! But it wasn't quite as simple as that. When we had docked last night at was already dusk. And within the next hour after that another 10 boats had been added to the likely 15 on the beach. Oh and did I mention that houseboats tend to look shockingly alike especially when they're all rented from the same 3 companies? So you can imagine my confusion when now partly drunk, more than halfway to hungover, tired, disoriented, with my contacts stuck to my eyes as I tried to hurry the walk of shame and simply find my fucking friends (without stumbling onto the wrong boat).
Maybe it was sense memory. Maybe blind luck. But somehow I was able to find my boat. And opened that sliding glass door. To cheers of my very own. Complete with "Walk of Shame" photo (to be cherished forever). And it was time to amp it up. No sleep for the weary. So I dunked my ass in the frigid 7am water (a surefire hangover cure) and rallied like a champ. It was time for Day 2 which meant suntanning and hot-tubbing.
To Be Continued...
