I Admit It: I Miss Girl Beds

People have their little neurosis. You have to get all the fruits while playing Pac Man. You have to put exactly 13 ice cubes in your water bottle before playing a soccer game. You can only eat the green and red powder in Fun Dip, but leave the blue.

I have to sleep in my own bed.

At parties, I will always make sure that I have a way of getting home. Whether I'm the sober one or make absolutely sure that someone else is driving my ass back to base camp. If not, I've been known to walk a ridiculous amount of miles home to do so.

This has been an ongoing joke between Jenny and me. I'll drive all the way out to visit her, but I won't ever crash at her place. I can't! I won't! However this past weekend, I made an exception to the rule, gritted my teeth and made plans to sleep over.

Per usual, I got hammered and vaguely remember crawling into Jenny's bed. Jenny and I are good enough friends where it's normal for us to sleep together; completely platonic.

Around 4 in the morning, my eyes instantly shot open and I went into that sudden panic attack where I didn't know where I was. Once I realized I was in Jenny's room, I calmed down and took a moment to soak in my surroundings.

I haven't slept in a real girl's bed since Lynn (Beth's doesn't count). I had forgotten how great girl's beds are. I can't speak for all men everywhere, but at least for me... my beds have matured as much as I have. Which if you've kept up with this blog, isn't saying much.

In college I owned that $30 futon you can get from any Target. You get what you pay for. That is, until I saw that someone had thrown out a perfectly good frame in the alley! Oh... here's a futon mattress too. I'll just throw some sheets around it and that'll be good enough to put under my current mattress! Two mattresses are better than one, right??

When my roommate moved out in LA, I inherited his single (wow! A real bed! Fuck you, futon). It's lumpy. It's squeaky. It's something that belongs in the military.

But what I was experiencing was heaven. Something I had forgotten all about. Is it some universal girl agreement to have immaculate beds?? They are like goddamn, customized nests, I swear. Carefully prepared with the finest of linens! So much care has been put into these havens of slumber!

How could I forget this? This is what it is to sleep! The shit I've been doing in my shanty has merely been me shutting my lids for a few hours. I've settled.

And they always have more room than they really need. So much fucking space, it's amazing. You could roll over twice and not hit the edge!

As I stretched out and took a deep sigh of pleasure, I looked over at Jenny. Hands tucked under her head, in peaceful slumber, softly wheezing away. Fuck. I miss that too. Looking over in the middle of the night just watch your girl sleeping soundly. That's the good stuff too. I stayed up a little while longer, staring at the ceiling thinking about that. I miss away games.

My sleeps this week have been restless. I got a taste of a girl bed and I'm craving it again.

I need to find me a girl bed again.

Girls Will Always Drive You To Drink

The vibrations of my cell startled me from my hangover nap. It was Lynn, so I decided to peel myself off the couch and step out on my porch.

Lynn: Sorry I had to get off the phone so abruptly the other night.
So@24: -taking a giant swig of Vitamin Water- No, no, I knew you had company... you were just listening to me ramble on anyway.
Lynn: Rough night last night? You sound terrible.
So@24: Hoo doggy...

And so I told my ex-girlfriend (in great, morbid detail) of what I did on the afternoon of July 4th.

* * *

It had been a particularly low week for me. Minor, opposite-sex issues had caused a contemplative storm cloud to hover over my head the last few days. Jenny suggested Leo and I spend the weekend with her for the 4th of July.

Bless her heart.

Jenny's promise of broads, boobs, and booze was not an exaggeration. I had no idea the beach towns of Manhattan & Hermosa Beach took the day of America's independence so seriously. Leo and I both pinched each other as we stepped out into what had to have been the scene of a cliche'd college, sex, beach comedy.

Jenny, Leo and I joined Jenny's friends at the first beach-side bar for the first stop of the pub crawl. I had made a commitment to myself I was going to have a great time. I was not going to go into over-analytical mode in classic So@24 fashion. I was not going to spend my 4th, sipping a pint, sitting in the corner with a furrowed, confused, sharpee-esque countenance as I pondered over the mysteries of women.

I was going to get drunk. Flirt with some cute girls. And drink some more.

Unfortunately, you can't always tell that thought-provoking storm cloud to "back the fuck up" by drinking. More often than not, you think you can drown it and unfortunately, it doesn't work like that. Ever. I don't know why I always think it will work.

Things start to get fuzzy around bar 3 in the pub crawl.

Flash! I remember buying rounds of Touch Downs (oh God, I just threw up in my mouth typing that...).

Flash! I remember downing a Bloody Mary.

Flash! I remember filling Leo's cup full of beer after an intense game of Flip Cup at bar 2.

Flash! I remember flipping the winning cup for the round and giving this cute girl, Leo and I had eyed ealier, a double high five. This was just the remedy I was looking for!

Flash! I can't open my eyes, because they are encrusted with sand. My mouth is full of sand. Leo is cradling my head in his lap. Am I on the fucking beach? I am on the fucking beach. The afternoon sun is blinding even through the cracks in the wooden pier. Jenny is standing a few feet away with Rye crackers and a bottle of water.


Leo: Jesus Christ, So. What the fuck happened?
So@24: garble, garble, garble.
Leo: We've been looking for you for hours! Can you get up?
So@24: Just... leave me.
Leo: Leave no man behind!
Jenny: Drink this.

When the water hit my throat, I wretched. I suddenly realized the dark, moist sand I was laying in was not due to the ocean... but the entire contents of my stomach. A mixture of bile and alcohol.

Jenny: Look at your poor face, So. Your capillaries around your eyes burst. You look like a raccoon.

As Leo took his bare hand and wiped the drool and bile from my mouth, clearing away the caked sand from my face... I looked into the concerned face of Jenny and thought:

"No girl-issue is worth this shit."

Leo and Jenny, knowing that there is no way any cabbie would have me as their passenger, hailed a rickshaw to take us back to Jenny's apartment. I slumped over the side, puking into Jenny's newly, purchased tank top as the rickshaw bounced up and down the Manhattan Beach streets.

Leo: Oh, hey. Remember that cute girl we were talking to? Turns out she has a boyfriend.
So@24: Figures. ... ... -pukes-

* * *

Lynn: I can't remember the last time you drank like that. I knew it had to be girl-stuff.
Lynn: You know if we were still dating, I would have to killed you if you came to me with a story like this.
So@24: Hahaha! If we were still dating, I probably wouldn't been in a place where I'd blackout. Or at least you would have been holding my hair back?
Lynn: Hahaha, you know I would.

How Singles Celebrate 4th of July

Jenny: I know the best remedy for you. Move in with me for the weekend! Copious amounts of alcohol? Done. Busty, blonde girls running around the beach in red, white, and blue, what-can-barely-be-considered bikinis, celebrating America's independance? Done.
Jenny: Are you coming already?
So@24: I'm packing my bag.

Rules to a "Real Date"

In the most recent weeks, my pal Jenny has become my source of "views from the fairer sex". Ol' Jenny is extremely opinionated and has a set viewpoint on everything. Especially when it comes to dating.

I'm kind of a masochist in this way. I can't help but ask her to elaborate on her views on dating, even though I know that 9/10 times it will result in me ripping out my hair.

I walk away from these conversations shutting my eyes tight, gritting my teeth, and praying that this sample doesn't represent the mentality of all women everywhere.

Let me give you an example.

Jenny: See if Leo's brother can hook me up with some Jimmyjane goodies! Explain that I'm a sexually frustrated female friend who hasn't had a real date in over six months and has only gotten recently laid on her 25th tequila-induced birthday which she doesn't really remember. That sob story is worth a free goodie bag in my book!
So@24: I know I'm going to regret asking this, but you haven't been on a "real date"? You went out with that Greg guy recently. What constitutes a "real date"?
Jenny: 1. A REAL date is when a guy asks you out (or in YOUR book, I guess a girl can do it.)
Jenny: 2. It's planned at least a day or two in advance.
Jenny: 3. It's just the two of you.
Jenny: 4. And the "asker-outer" pays.
So@24: Let me get this straight. So hypothetically speaking, if I were you ask you out on a date the morning of the day I want to take you to dinner, you would not consider that a date?
Jenny: Hmmmm... borderline, but acceptable.
So@24: -slaps own face-

What is up with these rules? Why does everything have to have strict guidelines to be considered a date?

A guy HAS to ask the girl?? To any girl who stands behind this, give me a call when you're ready to hang up your corset and hop off the buggy. It's 2008.

I'll agree with the "asker-outer" paying. Fine, that's reasonable and logical. But that means that the asker outer can either be the male or the female.

With these rules, we (being the guys) are so busy trying to figure out these little nuances that it's usually too late. I mourn for the thought that the next girl will have a slightly different, yet equally lengthy set of random requirements.

What do you think, boys & girls? Is this a universal train of thought? Why are these rules set in place at all?

The Shacking Patterns of Women

Shacking.

Girls sleeping over and staying in the bed of a male that is someone who is not a significant other.*

This isn't something that I'm particularly used to (not a surprise that a long term girlfriend would frown upon me doing this when we dated), but after Jenny stayed over... I conjured up a theory. As I often tend to do.

My theory is: girls shacking methods might be correlated with their personalities.

And since I really only have two girls as my case studies, they will have to do in order to explain my train of thought.

Beth

Shacking Habits:

• passed out in her dress on New Years
• will often grab a t-shirt from my drawer on her own
• sleeps in my t-shirt and undies
• passes out
  
• since I only have one pillow, we share it
  

Personality Traits:

• Disorganized, frantic in stressful situations
  
• spontaneous/sporadic
• go-with-the-flow attitude
• Ideal Evening = Rusty Nails followed by grilled cheese sandwiches and reruns of Strangers with Candy and/or cartoons
  
• has been known to chase Monarch vodka w/ Grey Goose
  

Jenny

Shacking Habits:

• Asked me to provide shorts and a t-shirt
• Requested an additional pillow (Thanks Leo!)
  
• falls asleep
• Ideal Evening = dancing and reruns of Sex & the City and/or Friends
  
• fell asleep in a very casual, proper manner (if that makes sense)

Personality Traits:

• Extremely organized
• likes to have events/gatherings planned out in advance
• focused, goal driven
  
• enjoys a good wine
  

Again, just a theory. Not sure how credible it is, but it was two examples that are very different when provided with the same scenario.




* good catch, Commenter!

Grenade Jumper, I ain't

A funny thing I noticed about Leo. Whenever he's planning on hooking up with a girl, he makes his bed. Most of the days, his bed looks like mine... a pathetic, wrinkled comforter strewn haphazardly across the mattress.

Shaving, showering, hair cuts, changing clothes... these are aren't nearly as important as tucking in his linens and arranging his pillows in a perfect, symmetrical fashion.

Reminds me of when male birds clean their nests to court female birds. I feel like I study the habits of my roommate as a single male much like Jane Goodall did with the chimpanzee. I jotted on my notepad, "Maybe I should start making my bed."

But unfortunately for my roommate, this was the first time I saw him make his bed and have it not be "used" within a 24 hour period. Here's why...

***

Leo's had his scope on this one girl, but her friend "that shitty girl" is always at her side when they come over. So guess who has to deal with her? I suppose at this point I should give her a name, since I've blogged about her enough. I held it off because I didn't think she'd be around long enough to merit an alias. -sigh- Alright, fine. Let's call her Sherry.

Not only am I not physically attracted to "shitty girl", but having a conversation with her is absolutely painful. It's excruciating. You ever know someone who is "totally into art" and wants to "meet creative minds"? For the record, anyone who says they want to meet "creative minds" is full of shit.

Sherry sits down and pulls up a seat right next to her. "Come here, So@24. Sit down here and tell me something fascinating!"

What the fuck does that even mean? I look to Jenny to save me from this convo. She's busy bouncing quarters into glasses. Figures.

I take a seat and she props her head on her knuckles and smiles (why is that annoying the shit out of me??).

So@24: Where's your drink?

Sherry looks at me like I just asked her the most absurd, out-of-the-blue question anyone has ever received.

Sherry: Why do I need a drink? I don't need to drink to have a conversation.
So@24's Inner Monologue: Ahhh, I should have expected an awkward response from you. Kudos. Kudos. You aren't drinking? You're not the DD? Well, then why did you come to a party??

***

Fast forward to after the bars. It feels like college again. Everyone is hanging out in my room, drinking beers, and iTunes is blaring Toto's "Africa". Jack is laying game on my friend Jenny. Leo is laying his game on his girl. And then there is Sherry. There's absolutely no way I'm going to grenade jump for Leo. Under different circumstances (e.g. him never knowing the warm embrace of a woman, me having an entire bottle of Jaeger, etc.) I would have considered it.

But nope. Not gonna happen. Homeboy can fend for himself on this one.

It's getting late. Sherry is getting a little... ballsy. Leo's girl and Sherry are both laying on my bed, but Sherry at one point wraps her legs around my torso... while I'm standing. Why can't this ever happen with girls that I'm interested in?

So@24 tears off shirt, drops to knees and looks to the heavens: Why!? Whyyyyyyyyyyyy!?

I felt like Dirk the Daring getting crushed by tentacles wrapped around me.

back the eff up, son

Enough's enough. Time to go. Leo's girl does not end up staying the night. Why? She would have, but she has to take Sherry home, of course! Jack leaves. Jenny stays.

Jenny: Can I borrow a pair of boxers and a t-shirt?

Whoa. I have not had to give a girl a pair of boxers and a t-shirt since, God knows how long. But man, it's been awhile.

I drunkenly fumble through some drawers, but one rule I remembered! I found a shirt and a pair of boxers that I really don't like that much, in case she runs off with them. I toss her my green pair of boxers that's design is spattered with burgers and fries.

Jenny:: You only have one pillow!
So@24: Oh right. Uh... Leo? Some help, buddy?

Of course, I only have one pillow. Lynn took her's!

A pillow is thrown from Leo's door frame.

We immediately passed out like kittens, absolutely PLATONIC, of course... it's what good friends do.

Tequila, Tequila, Tequid64ncZShkcskldfz

"Yep, we're only drinking tequila for my birthday. That's the rule."

"Well. This should be interesting."

With a "strictly tequila" night, things are going to get a little nutty. Especially when it's celebrating one of my friends from college (sorority sisters w/ Beth actually), Jenny's birthday. Living in Manhattan Beach, we both find it hard to meet up, but when we do I always a great time.

Of course, what is a celebration without bringing my partners in crime Leo, Jack, and my old roommate Kevin with me (Leroy had a girlfriend night)? We crammed into The Honey Wagon IV, my sweet ride if you really want to know, and headed to the beach.

Jose Cuervo and I were best pals that evening. After tangoing with him for the early part of the evening, we moved to a bar to do some real dancing.

I don't dance. Unless I'm tanked. Just as I had a pint of Newcastle to my lips, Jenny grabbed me by the hand and tugged me into the crowd of dancers, sloshing my beer on the bar floor. Leo and I both agree that there's something amazing about a drunk girl, grabbing your hand and leading you to the dance floor (even though she's just a friend).

I can't remember the last time I danced, but I forgot how much it can be. Although I can guarantee Jenny and I tearing up the dance floor was not the least bit graceful. But fuck. Hands on a girl's hips, spinning her, dipping her... that's the good stuff I miss. Reminds me of the very few times Lynn and I danced. I'll admit I got a little nostalgic about frat dances and even high school proms w/ Lynn. I'll blame it on the booze.

get down.

The tequila sloshing around wasn't going anywhere anytime soon, but I could tell that Leo, Jack, and Kevin were getting tired of watching me flailing around like an idiot. It was time to go.

But before we got into the car, we decided it would be a good idea to run around on the beach like drunken idiots. For some reason, I take this time to call Lynn. We have a pleasant 10 minute drunken conversation... we are both drunk and we make each other laugh over something that probably wasn't all that funny.

When we get home, I overhear Leo lay down some serious game; we're talking epic. This guy doesn't fuck around, I swear to you I can't make this stuff up. I eavesdrop on a conversation Leo has with one of his bootycalls.

Leo: I think you should come over and take your clothes off.
[brief pause for response]
Leo: Because I want to see you naked.
[brief pause for response]
Leo: Okay, my address is...

I'm telling you, homeboy is that good.

I wake up at 11:00am with a call from Jenny and a terrible hangover that can only be created through tequila.

"You bastard, Jose. You win again."

Jenny: Thanks for leaving me last night!
So@24: What did I do??
Jenny:: I chalked up another number. With my neighbor.
So@24: It was your birthday! Who cares? Enjoy the moment.
Jenny:: Guh. If I had you there this wouldn't have happened!

Hear that, parents? Your daughters are safe with me!

Oh. What's this? I have a text message from Beth. Balls. And the following text exchange occurs:

Beth: Um. I just got your message.
So@24: Oh? What did I text?
Beth: You didn't text. Voicemail.
So@24: Oh boy. What did I say?
Beth: You really don't remember?
So@24: I didn't even know my own name last night.
Beth: You rapped.

Go me.