Tonight I went to an absolutely dreadful orgy. What made it worse was that I dragged a totally hot guy along with me as my guest, and he will undoubtedly never speak to me again.
When the host opened the door looking fully ten years older than he did in the picture he sent me, I should have turned around right then.
My guest and I sat around and chatted with the host, waiting for a few other people. Within twenty minutes, the following people arrived:
—a man with a bizarre rash or birthmark on his face;
—a totally hot guy; and
—a man who was old and (as I later discovered) smelled funny.
We got started, and I was instantly bored out of my skull. My guest, clearly disgusted with the whole proceedings, left almost immediately; I wanted desperately to leave with him, but I was, shall we say, in no position to do so. The old man left too, but not, alas, before I found out that he smelled funny. Which left me, the deceitful host, the disfigured man, and the hot guy. So I just focused on the hot guy.
Thankfully, the rest of the event was mercifully short. Here is a sampling of the thoughts that were running through my head during that time:
“Maybe I should reread the complete works of Jane Austen, starting with Persuasion.”
“Damn—I can’t remember whether I’m on row 5 or row 7 of the sweater pattern I’m knitting.”
“Ice cream.”
“Maybe I should reread the complete works of Jane Austen, starting with Persuasion.”
“Ice cream.”
And now the totally hot guy I dragged along as my guest will never speak to me again. I met him at the one other orgy I’ve been to, which was as delightful as this one was wretched. But the thing is that he was fat then, and now he is 40 pounds lighter and much more built and sexy and quite possibly my soul mate, except for the never speaking to me again part. So I spent the entire subway ride home trying to figure out how to make it up to him.
I mean, I can think of a few different ways, some of which wouldn’t require him to speak to me anyway.
But maybe I should leave well enough alone, because he’s the one who left the bite marks on my ass that got me in trouble with E.S., so maybe he’s brought enough anxiety into my life.
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