The Girl who stole Fourthmeal

Friday touches down last week and I’m in the mood for a good time. I send out three or four ‘excitement’ texts to girls I either know as friends or used to hook up with. It’s generally understood that the only chance I have of getting them to respond is if they have the same 5pm friday feeling I do and they respond on pure emotion. I’d put it at about 10%.


That was my shot at easy tail for the night. But now it looks like I’m going to have to saddle up and call in the crew. The crew consists of 3 people.


Guy 1 – This is the guy who always wants to go to the bar. It doesn’t matter what time of the day it is, he wants to go. The only catch with guy 1 is, he says five words once he gets to the bar. He usually goes to the bathroom about 45 times and tells everyone how loud it is in the bar then pulls a ‘wow what a long week, think I’m gonna hit the road’ at about midnight. Unfortunately, midnight is when the pickings get good


Guy 2 – I’m still wondering why we invite Guy 2 out. Guy 2 is the one all the girls flock to. It’s not a competition, it’s just generally understood that girls are going to go after him all night. And no, the wait around until guy 2 picks his girl then try and snipe some last minute action on the second place spring chicken never works. She’ll usually reply with how tired she is, or how her friend doesn’t feel good. That’s code work for them hitting the road and instead of hooking up with you, firing up their bedside pal with 2 duracell batteries, and buzzing themselves to sleep. Nice work!


Guy 3 – Guy 3 is my favorite. Guy three is the perfect friend during the day. He allways has tickets to the game when you need it, brings home dinner for no reason, and consistently buys beer for you for you and the apartment. Guy three has a special power though. He has the inate ability to steal whatever girl you’ve been talking to while you go to the bathroom for 30 seconds. He doesn’t care that he’s doing it, he probably doesn’t know that he’s doing it. But he’s doing it, and it’s making your friday night the best friday of all time. While you’re draining the snake next to a couple guys blowing coke in the bathroom, tonights catch of the day is being reeled in by another boat.


You might say I should change up the ‘group’, not gonna happen.


Friday night begins at some very okay bar with some very okay girls. Out of the four girls the one I’m talking to looks like she’s always interested in going to McDonald’s after the bar. She’s eyeing me up and down and licking her chops like I’m fourth meal. Whatever, man’s gotta eat.


I notice halfway through the night that this chick’s been drinking Jack on the rocks. She’s also been paying for all of my drinks. This combination leads me to believe she might have a penis, but we’re playing the hot hand here and I keep going.


About halfway through the night she makes the first move, which I guess makes sense after she’s been buying me beers the whole night. She moves in, mouth wide open and for a split second my life flashed before my eyes.

I thought off all the ex girlfriends and past hookups I’d had, and how they were nothing like this. Kissing a girl should be a mutual action. She was going in like I was the first bite of a meatball sandwich. Her breath smelled a little bit like trident and a little bit like the calamari she’d put down a couple hours ago. I go all in and get slobbed on. At this point guy 2 and guy 3 are staring me down and giggling with the other girls. Now I’m the center of attention which is never a good thing.


After contemplating an irish exit, I decide I’m too drunk to find another girl so I opt for ‘her’. I never figured out what ‘her’ name was but I decided it was going to be either Pat or Ethel. Either way I was all in.


We got back to her place and I jump on the couch. From that point forward everything gets a little blurry. I was still buzzed and to this point, I still don’t know if we had sex. Every move I made was either flabtastic or penetration. I’ll never know the answer. The highlight of the night was when I rolled over after whatever we did for 75 seconds and she got up and went to the fridge. She pulled out a half eaten BMT from anywhere between 7 to 10 days ago and began working her magic on it.


About halfway into her third bite she tells me I can leave. That was the moment I knew it was one of my favorite fridays of all time. She almost ate me, drank more Budwiesers than my dad, maybe had sex with me, starts eating right after sex, and boots ME out of her apartment.


That night with Ethel was a game changer, I wonder what she’ll remember more, me, or the 6 inch BMT that had been marinating in her fridge for a week. Go Figure.