Prom '99

Ahh, The Fall, a wondrous time of the year when our bleak mortality is brought into depressingly stark relief by the grim realization that yet another year is about to disappear into the Godless ether.

The years are like sex, they happen too quickly and at the end, all you can think about is death.

If I only had a nickel for every time I wished I was dead after sex, I'd have $1.15. That might not seem like a lot, but just imagine $1.15 worth tears, disappointment and apathetic emotional distance.

How has this decade gone by so fast?

I remember 1999 like it was 1999, which in my mind is at least 3 minutes ago, daylight savings time.

The last day of that year was a macabre charade. A potentially debaucherous night at my mother's house; 6 college freshmen, 3 girls, 3 guys. The odds were that each of us would meet up for what I austerely call "sexy time", or lacking that, three guys passionlessly giving each other handjobs while praying the the girls might "change their minds".

Well, neither happened.

The only thing that stopped me was 3/4ths a bottle of Jack Daniels. Let's take it back to the beginning:

There was this girl who was at the party, let's call her "Girl". I really thought she was quite attractive, not Mary Eaton attractive, but Lillian Roth attractive. If you know either of those references, you're probably older than dirt's oldest sibling.

Anyway, at my senior prom a few months beforehand, I had run into her...completely shitfaced.

We were at a friend's house and I was running a 102 temp. I had recently written and directed a school play and was feeling, as the expression goes, "FUCKING TIRED".

I was kicked out of where I was sleeping because my best friend was having loud sex with an overweight Norwegian in the bed next to me. I went down to the basement to find Girl, and another friend of mine who had taken her to the prom.

My friend was a nice guy, and to that end, was trying to get Girl drunk enough that she would have sex with him.

To be fair to my friend's clumsy sexual advances, Girl's nickname was "Loosey McSexPants".

But that night she wasn't biting...for him.

I sat down and she attempted to whisper in my ear, except she ended up just yelling loudly in my ear.

"He reminds me of my brother, he thinks he's going to have sex with me, but he's not!"

My friend, an amiable fellow, most definitely heard this, but continued to pour the whiskey.

"Uh, OK" I said, sweating, sick and petrified.

She put her hand on my inner thigh and squeezed, as if she expected some sort of sexy pheromone to leak forth.

"You remind me of my brother...have sex with me" she said.

"Uh, I'm just not feeling well", was my meek response.

"You're going to make me into a character in one of your plays, aren't you?!?"

"No, I'm not."

"You promise?"

"Yup"

"Great. You remind me of my brother; have sex with me".

Luckily, this Swiftian exchange was interrupted by a group of drunk 18 year olds who decided it was time to come down and blare some Pink Floyd.

At that point, I went up to the kitchen for some alone time. The next thing I remember was my petite Japanese friend Emiko running up the stairs yelling "my tummy's burning!", followed closely by Girl, who simply vomited all over the place.

The next time I saw Girl was New Years 1999. There was more vomiting.

What happened?

You'll just have to wait until my next post to find out.