Girl's Night

There’s a reason that guy’s don’t attend girl’s night…

The night starts in a cab full of scantily clad women. They’re all drunk. They’re all rowdy. They’re giggling and swooning and everyone is pushing each other and touching each other and having a gay ol’ time. At least, everyone except me. It’s times like this I think I’d rather be gay.

For the third time tonight the conversation has turned to boys. The girls start talking about how they want to meet cute, eligible boys on the dance floor, shove their tongues down their throats. They recap and remind each other of hot guys they met the week before.

“Oh god he was gorgeous. But his friend was a loser!”

“I know! I can’t believe I made out with him!”

They all laugh. They all jest. They all joke. They continue to shout and gossip and swoon over all the attractive guys they’ve met or wish to meet. They complain about not knowing any cool, attractive guys. They whine and bitch that there are no good, datable guys around. They ask rhetorically why they can’t meet nice guys, guys who they can just get along with and who are more than just a pretty face.

And I am sitting in the middle of this conversation, trying to keep my ego from deflating. At least it’s better than the thirty minute discussion of periods and tampons they had in the hotel room.

I am sitting in the passenger seat, beside a cabbie who doesn’t appear to speak English since he hasn’t said a single word to us the entire drive. Albeit, if I were him, in a car full of boisterous and unruly girls, I would probably pretend to be a mute too.

The girl’s night crew is pretty typical. First there’s Hannah. She’s a cute, petite brunette who just never quite has good enough luck with men. As a case in point, the last guy she went home claimed to be a banker, yet strangely enough still lived at home. She had to be “extra quiet” so as not to wake up his “roommates”, who were clearly his parents, as he snuck her in the back door at 3am. Upon entering his bedroom in the basement Hannah was greeted with an inflatable sex doll in his bed. He “forgot to clean up” earlier in the day, or so he claimed.

Then there’s Alice. Alice is the thinker, but not in a good way. You know those girls that analyze everything to death? That obsess over events that are out of their control or have yet to even occur? That plan for contingencies that are not even possible or assess and evaluate every tiny, minute detail of every and any encounter? That’s Alice.

Alice literally thinks her way out of relationships with guys. She also has a tendency to fall for a guy after only one night. This means that a typical Alice relationship involves one night of fun, followed by days of intense thought and debate, and if she ever sees him again, long-talk after long-talk after long-talk involving “where they stand” and “what the future will bring”. In my experience though, Alice doesn’t really seem that interested in dating right now anyway. So maybe it’s for the best.

Next is Sharon. Sharon is the party girl. She can literally drink me, and in fact most guys that I know, under the table. Not without puking mind you, but at that point where most people would be so drunk that they’d just collapse into a stupor, in a puddle of their own vomit, Sharon indeed pukes, but then rallies and continues to drink, dance, and party.

And finally, there’s Brooke. Brooke is tall with short black hair. Her lips are excessively glossed and her tits are nearly popping out of her tight, golden dress. She’s probably the “prettiest” of the girls here. I say “prettiest” because she’s not pretty in the classic sense but more in the I-can’t-believe-she’s-not-a-porn-star kind of way. Needless to say, I have a crush on Brooke. She is why I’m here tonight, at girl’s night.

Soon the fantastic four are talking about handbags, then it’s shoes. Then they’re discussing the trials and tribulations of makeup. The conversation shifts to dreamy movie celebrities and they start to swoon over them now.

I’ve never been good at following girl-talk but this is another level. Not only are the topics of conversation shifting faster than is possible to comprehend, but the girls are constantly shouting and yelling over each other, keeping parallel lines of discussion open while simultaneously adding in new topics.

I wonder if groups of girls should be prescribed Ritalin.

Out of the chaos, I am suddenly and briefly included: Sharon asks me why I’m still single. I have nearly half a second to think about it before I realize that it was perhaps a rhetorical question, because before I can answer the conversation has moved on, and they are all laughing about something else.

The sad thing is, part of me really hopes that maybe I can get Brooke drunk and grind with her. Maybe, somehow, grinding will lead to kissing, kissing to groping, and groping to fucking. Maybe I can get with her tonight.

Boy was I wrong… but I don’t know that yet.

We pull up to the busy Montreal nightclub and all the girls instantly jump out of the cab. The driver leans over at me and tells me it’s $24.

So he can talk.

The girls are long gone. I reluctantly fork over the cash and get out of the cab just in time to see the girls run inside the club. Literally, I was just ditched.

I run up to the bouncer and before I can say a word he pushes me back: “Back of the line.”

“But I’m with them!” I exclaim, motioning at the girls who are now disappeared inside the club.

“Back of the line,” he repeats.

I mumble to myself and pull out my cell phone. It’s dead. I didn’t charge it today.

I sigh and consider my options. The bouncer pushes me out of the way to let in three people.

“Fine,” I say reluctantly as I shake my head. “Ten?” I reach into my wallet.

“Twenty,” he says, without even flinching. “Plus five for cover.”

I sigh again.

I’ve literally just arrived at the club and I’m essentially $50 poorer and completely alone. It takes me forever to find the girls again. When I do, they’re busy dancing, although they promise me profusely that they were searching for me tirelessly. None of them believe me that I had to bribe the bouncer to get in.


Of course, I could complain and regret my choice to attend girl’s night, but despite the inconveniences, I look over at Brooke and know that tonight is worth the risk. I should say that Brooke isn’t really my friend per se, she’s a friend of Alice’s. I’ve hung out with her a few times in group settings, but obviously I’d like to share a more intimate encounter. I look over at Brooke and instantly get turned on a little. Her dress is riding up precariously high. Forget exposing her beautiful, long legs, another fraction of an inch and we’d be on to her ass.

If I could only figure out a way to dance with her…

Suddenly, Alice suggests we should buy everyone shots—a sentiment that all the girls approve of with loud, obnoxious hollers. Of course, Alice didn’t bring her purse tonight… nor any money. Therefore, her statement that we will be buying everyone shots really means I will be buying everyone shots.

When we get to the bar I give Alice some money and tell her to buy a round for everyone. She instantly screams that everyone is doing her favorite shot: blow jobs. Everyone cheers. For my part, I have to take a piss. I tell them I’ll be right back, and take off.

The bathroom itself is disgusting. It’s flooded with water and piss from overflowing toilets. I stand on the tips of my toes while I piss.

In my head, I try to figure out some way of getting closer to Brooke. I could buy her a drink. I could tell her she’s cute. I should compliment her dress… or her hair. Maybe I should just try to kiss her? Although that could backfire catastrophically. I could make her a bet I know I’ll lose… or that I know I’ll win. It’s a playful way to proceed when the stakes are a kiss.

I sigh at the conundrum of seduction that faces me. Girls have it easy, all they have to do is stand near guys they like and look in their direction.

I check myself out in the mirror. Behind me there is a guy puking in a urinal and some guy in a stall is literally laughing harder than anyone I’ve ever heard in my life. I don’t know what’s so funny in there, but I kind of don’t want to know.

I look good. Well, OK. Not that good. Not like, Hollywood-hunk-fantastic good. I’m wearing a shirt and a blazer. I unbutton one more button on my shirt and mess up my hair a bit.

I sigh. It doesn’t make a difference.

“OK,” I whisper to myself in an attempt to gain some confidence, “Just be cool. Just get drunk. And try to dance with her. Just don’t leave it too long. Don’t miss your window of opportunity.”

I look into the mirror and nod at myself.

“You can do this buddy…”

I can’t do this…

Brooke is one of those girls that is pretty in a trashy way. She’s not the type of girl that you’d paint a portrait of. More like the type of girl that you would snap a dirty photo of with your phone cam. As a case in point, she once picked up a guy and took him home. As they started to hook up, he stopped her, mid-way through making out, to ask her how much he would have to pay to go all the way. She charged him $50.

Of course, the knowledge that my crush had once literally prostituted herself out, and so maybe it’s not a bad thing to lose her to someone else, doesn’t make me feel any better when I turn to see her blatantly sucking face with some asshole who could only be described as a heroine addict.

I’ve been gone for about 5 minutes. We’ve been at the club for maybe 20 minutes total. I took the time to find the girls, buy them a drink, and take a piss. I guess I waited too long. I guess I missed my window…

“Son of a bitch…” I grumble in disbelief.

He is skinny as hell, with a shaved head and tattoos everywhere. He’s wearing a sleeveless jean jacket that I assume was stylish in 1995 and he has just about everything on his visible body pierced. Beside him stands a 5-foot-nothing midget-of-a-friend with disgusting facial hair and wearing a baggy old jersey. He’s laughing and cheering his junkie friend on. The jersey guy, who cannot be older than 25, is literally sporting a cane.

I left for 5 minutes to take a piss, and now I return to look for Alice and my shot and instead I find this… this disgusting show of debauchery.

Of course, it is only a disgusting show of debauchery because it isn’t me with her. But that’s beside the point.

I can only stare in disbelief as I watch the girl I’ve been obsessing about getting with is throwing herself at human garbage. And all the other girls in our gang are just dancing around her. So much for my plan tonight…

“How are you still single JD?” is bouncing in the back of my head. So, does this mean that this guy is better than me?

Soon enough, Alice comes running up to me and pulls me back towards everyone. As she does I ask her where my shot is. She tells me that Brooke drank it.

“Well that’s fucking great,” I exclaim in frustration.

“Relax!” Alice says. “We’ll get you another one.”

That’s code for: “You can buy yourself another one.”

I sigh again.

The next hour or so is a blur of dancing. Mostly the girls and I just all dance together, but Brooke grinds with a few random guys. It’s tough to watch, and makes me regret coming to girl’s night.

I could be finding girls. I could be looking for some random group of chicks to grind with. I could be trying to put moves on someone myself. But with only girls as your wingmen it’s a hard maneuver to pull off. Plus, really, seeing Brooke just slut it up tonight is kind of de-motivating. I kind of don’t want to get with anyone else. It’s sad and a little pathetic, but I think she’s breaking my sensitive little heart…

And to top it all off, I’m sobering up.

The bar itself is crowded as fuck. I tried to get another drink before we relocated to the dance floor but I couldn’t even get close to the bar. So I’m just getting soberer and soberer. But the girls, oh they’re getting nice and drunk.

Yeah, the girls keep getting drinks bought for them. Guys are walking up trying to talk to them and offering them drinks. And if they don’t offer their drinks, well sometimes the girls are just taking them, just grabbing them right of the guys’ hands. The guys, what do they care? If a drink buys a bit of grinding, well, that’s just the cost of doing business.

I get no drinks though. Sharon is the only one who notices and takes pity. She gives me one of her drinks. It’s a nicer gesture but once the sober train starts it takes more than one drink to stave it off. They’re getting drunker, and I’m getting soberer.

Between the lack of action, the inability to get a drink, and the gaping hole in my wallet, I realize that bars kind of suck for guys.

I look over and see Brooke grinding with some new guy who looks like a homeless professor. She’s rubbing her ass in his junk and she’s reaching her arms back, stroking his hair.

Fuck this!

I break away from the girls and manage to push my way over to the bar. And I do mean I literally push my way over to the bar.

I am hot and I am tired and the girl I like is kind of getting with everyone but me. Part of me wants to call tonight quits already. Something about the prospect of hanging around girls all night, listening to the guys they are crushing, watching them grind and hit on guys that they like more than me, is really not appealing.

The bartender rushes by and serves a group of three girls who got here well after I did. I try to catch him and place my order but he actively ignores me. The bartender ends up returning and asking a couple beside me what they want. He instantly runs off to make it for them, again ignoring my attempts to get his attention.

I try to pull out some cash to hold it out in front of him, to hopefully appeal to his greedy nature, and yet, I open my wallet only to realize that I spent the last of my cash.

Fucking perfect.

After I’ve already waited here for nearly twenty minutes, trying to get a drink, I just realized that I have no money.

Enter the worst guy in the world.

“Hey brah,” some douche beside me says.

I look over at him. He’s wearing a blazer jacket but is shirtless underneath. He’s wearing sunglasses and his head is shaved except for a severely gelled Mohawk.

“You know those girls over there?” he asks, motioning to my friends.

“Yeah…?” I reply.

“Brah, can you introduce me?” he asks as he throws his arm around my shoulder and grips me in a pseudo-macho display of dominance. He’s giving me this weird douchebag smile. He tells me he knows magic. He tells me that he’s a pro. And he tells me that his name is Bird Dawg.

Oh… my… god…

Of course, had I known that Bird Dawg was an actual competitor, and not just some freakish club clown, I definitely would’ve blown him off. I just didn’t realize that he was a more attractive mate than me.

Not more than 2 minutes after I’ve met Bird Dawg, does Brooke comes running over to find me. The girls wanted to know where I ran off to. For the briefest of moments I think that maybe this is my shot. She’s drunk, and as evidenced by her earlier, non-discriminate behavior, she’s clearly horny. And more importantly, she’s come to find me. She actually thought of me and came, by herself, to find me. And now I’ve got her all to myself… Well, at least, Bird Dawg and I have her to ourselves. And wouldn’t you fuckin’ know it, but she likes magic…

As Bird Dawg voraciously slops his lips all over Brooke, I realize that whereas everyone else seems to have a shot with her, I have absolutely no shot with her tonight. Worse yet, as I stand by, watching the girl I liked get orally violated by some asshole, Bird Dawg’s wingman—Virgin Slayer—comes to watch too.

Virgin Slayer ends up chatting me up, just like Bird Dawg did. As we watch Brooke run her hands all over Bird Dawg, Virgin Slayer tells me that all women are prostitutes, whether you pay for it or not. He then goes on to tell me that all women are incomplete, until they’ve been fucked at least. Like padlocks, they need a guy to come along, slip inside them, and unlock them.

Given his name, I assume that’s the job he’s decided to take.

And now, enter Sharon to rescue me from this horror only to introduce me to an all new low. I feel a tap on my shoulder and turn around. A jubilant Sharon is standing next to perhaps the most unattractive girl I’ve ever seen. I literally let out a small yelp when I see her.

“JD,” Sharon says with a beaming, intoxicated grin, “meet Lisa.”

“Um… hi?” I say.

Lisa is overweight, and that’s understating it. She’s wearing a skirt that you really wish was longer. She has cellulite, and the dress fits awkwardly, creating strange mounds and valleys out of her body. Even in this dark night club I can tell that she needs to wax her upper lip, and she has no neck.

I’m no Adonis, I can accept that, but this girl is ugly.

“See,” Sharon says to Lisa, “I told you he was a nice guy.”

“I like your shirt,” unattractive girl says.

“Thanks…?” I say uneasily.

“And your hair,” unattractive girl adds.

I smile at her dismissively.

“Well,” Sharon says, proud of herself, “I’ll leave you two to it.”

To what?! What the hell?!

Behind me I can still hear the slops of Bird Dawg on Brooke.

“Buy me a drink?” unattractive girl slurs.

Not even if I had the money…

“Well… we felt bad that maybe we’ve cockblocking you tonight. And then we find this girl in the bathroom and she starts telling us how no guys ever wants to sleep with her. And we were like, ‘Oh my god, we have a friend who will totally do you.’ So… she’s a sure thing. You’re welcome.” This is their explanation. This is their explanation for sicking some weirdo on me!

I tell them that they must be joking. I tell them that I cannot believe that this is not a joke. I tell them that no one is really this stupid in the real world. No one is really this clueless…

Sharon shrugs. “We’re trying to be good wing-girls.” She is clearly drunk.

“That is not being a good wingman!” I exclaim. “She’s not attractive whatsoever!”

“Yeah but she’s super nice!” Alice adds, swaying as she talks. “You guys probably have a lot in common.”

“What?! I don’t care! You told her I would sleep with her?! I am not sleeping with her!”

“Well she’s no looker,” Alice says. “But come on JD, you’re not perfect either. Plus you could make her really happy.”

“Yeah” Sharon adds. “I thought you men would fuck anything. And besides, what do you guys say all the time? Take one for the team? Well take one for the team here JD.”

“What the…?! Take one for the team applies when there are hot girls that your friends are trying to get with and a…” I pause, unsure of what word will sounds least offensive.

“A fat girl?” Alice says, unimpressed, with lazy drunken eyes.

This is my favour from my friends. They scored me a fat chick. A really, really fat chick. This is their favour. And because I’m not attracted to her, I am in the wrong.

“Yes,” I say reluctantly. “A fat girl. When your friends are trying to get with hot girls and there is a fat girl standing in the way, then you take one for the team. But this girl isn’t even in the game. It makes no difference to you guys or your sex lives what I do with her—which is going to be nothing by the way. You don’t take one for the team when there is no team!”

Alice is shaking her head. “You’re so shallow.”

“I guess beggars can be choosers,” Sharon slurs as she turns away from me.

God… where’s Virgin Slayer when you need him?

Out of the corner of my eye I see unattractive girl headed our way, looking around eagerly to find me.

I instantly run for the washroom.

By now, I’m stone cold sober. I spend about ten minutes in the piss-water dungeon that is the men’s toilets. Trying to figure out what I should do. Were this an hour ago I would’ve bailed, no questions asked. But now, all the girls are drunk, and I am not sure if I can trust them to get home safely. And so I’m stuck here. I’m stuck in this shitty fucking club. Unless I can get them to leave.

Figuring I’ve been in the pissrooms long enough, I cautiously step outside with the intent of finding the girls and leaving this horrible place. Only, wouldn’t you know it? Unattractive girl is standing just outside the washrooms, waiting for me.

“Heeey cutie,” she says as I step out. “I missed you…”

Fuck my life…

“Hey,” I say. “That’s nice…”

She tries to throw her arms around me but I pretend not to notice and turn my back to her and head back for the dance floor. She follows.

I don’t like being rude to people, but at the same time I’m not going to get with someone I find unattractive. I’m willing to bet that the girls only did this to me because they’re clearly drunk, but I’m still kind of upset. I’m in this really awkward spot…

I return to the dancefloor to find that Brooke is dancing with some new guy, her skirt hiked up far enough that I know she’s not wearing any underwear. The lower half of her ass is clearly visible.

I know that I was checking her out earlier in the evening, and I was wishing that her ass would eventually make an appearance. But not like this… not like this…

The douchebag she’s dancing with is also pulling one of the straps of her shirt down. I want so much to be that guy right now. But since I’m not I want to kill him… or myself. Either is good at this point.

Besides Brooke, literally no one else is here anymore except Alice.

“Why are you alone?” I ask her.

She shrugs, “Hannah’s at the bar.”

“And Sharon?”

She shrugs again.


Unattractive girl is dancing beside me, trying to wiggle her ass at me to get my attention. I watch Brooke try to stand up and step away from the guy she’s dancing with. She immediately stumbles a few feet away and grabs on to the closest guy. She wraps her arms around his neck to keep herself from falling down. This act causes her to pull his head towards hers, and a few seconds later, they’re making out.

I’m not even surprised at this point…

“I wish I’d been standing over there…” I sigh with a heavy heart.

Unattractive girl is still talking to me, saying something. I have no idea anymore at this point. I haven’t talked to her in forever. I didn’t even realize that she was talking to me.

Were these girls just guy friends of mine guys, I would leave. But Brooke is one step away from being date-raped on the dance floor, Sharon is missing, and Alice probably can’t be trusted right now.

At the bar, Hannah laughs and touches the chest of the guy by the bar. He reciprocates.

“I assume we can’t leave until she’s done with him?” I ask Alice.

Alice nods.

“Great,” I mumble.

Whereas the bro code states that you always leave your buddies if they’re hooking up with a girl, the exact opposite is true for the girl code. Girl code states that you never leave your female friends, especially with guys. It’s a safety thing…

Nonetheless, I have virtually no money left, I am now completely sober, I have been forced to take care of these girls all night with nothing to show for it, and an extreme unappealing girl is now holding my hand and believes that we will be sleeping together tonight. My hand is just dangling there. I am making no effort to hold hers or reciprocate, yet she continues to beam.

This night sucks.

Out of nowhere, Sharon suddenly walks up.

“Where have you been?” I shout over the booming club beats.

She looks at me, dead-eyed, then suddenly cups her hands to her mouth. She cups her hands to her mouth and vomits.

She catches most of it, but unfortunately, not all of it. The puke fills her hands and jets out between her fingers. A few spurts fly between her hands and spurt out at high pressure. I get a line of puke down my favorite shirt. I don’t even flinch. I’m not even surprised.

Brooke is lip-locked with that guy nearby, completely unaware of what just happened.

Sharon gags and dumps the contents of her hands on the ground right in front of me. She immediately starts wiping her hands on her dress.

“Fucking… amazing…” I am mumbling to myself.

Alice stops dead in her tracks, thankfully, and rushes over to Sharon.

“Oh god…” Sharon moans. “I had too many snake bites.”

Alice yells at me sternly: “I told you not to let her drink anymore JD!”

She never told me anything of the sort. And I had nothing to do with Sharon’s drinking habits tonight. Alice gives me a condescending glare and then rushes Sharon off to the washroom to clean her up. She takes Sharon away leaving a slightly puked-on me with unattractive girl.

On the floor around us is a puddle of human regurgitate and I am slightly stained. Yet unattractive girl cares not. She has moved on from touching my hand and is now putting her hands all over me. She moves in front of me and starts to grind into me slightly, pretending that she’s just dancing to the music. I don’t know if she notices or cares, but she’s dancing in the puke.

And I… I just stand there, dumb founded. Brooke is now using two guys to as support, and alternatingly making out with each of them in turn. Unattractive girl dances in vomit as she rubs her clearly oversized ass in my groin.

I am making no moves of my own, no signs to indicate that I am enjoying this or want her to continue at all. I am literally just standing still while she treats me like a human stripper pole.

The whole scene is very unappealing.

God damned mother fucking girls’ night…

After another hour of babysitting a passed out Sharon on the sofas in the front of the club, with unattractive girl blatantly pawing at me the whole time, Brooke making out with virtually every guy in the club, and Alice falling into some kind of rave-inspired, dance-fueled trance right beside us, Hannah comes back, and slumps down beside me. I ask her how things went. Maybe someone’s night wasn’t a total bust, other than Brooke I mean.

Hannah glares at me.

“Bad?” I ask.

“Oh no,” she says sarcastically. “Things were going great until we’re at the bar and out of nowhere he puts his hand on my leg and says, ‘I want to park the beef bus in tuna town tonight.’”

“Was he joking?” I laugh.

“No he said it totally seriously.”

“So what’d you do?” I ask.

“I said OK!”

I laugh. “What?! So what’s the problem?”

“After I said OK he suddenly looks like he’s thinking. Then the bartender shows up with the two drinks he had ordered for us. He pays the bartender, grabs the two drinks, then turns to me and says, ‘Actually, never mind,’ then he leaves! He didn’t even give me my drink!”


“And he called me Anna all night. He didn’t even know my name!” she whines as she slumps very far down in her seat. “I just want to go home and die!”

“You and me both…” I mumble under my breath.

Beside us, Alice is obliviously dancing, harder than anyone I’ve ever seen. She’s sweat through her shirt and her eyes are being held tightly shut. I don’t know where this came from, but I think someone slipped her some E. In the background, I guess Brooke loses her grip on her most current boy toy as she falls to the ground.

Well… if ever there was a sign that it was time to go home…

The club is half-empty, everyone is leaving. We all go to get our coats and they coat check girls cannot find mine. They cannot find the matching number at all. I ask them if I can wait until all the other coats are gone and then see if mine is left, but they tell me to come look now even. The coat room, is literally empty. My coat, is nowhere to be seen. It’s been stolen.

We leave the club. There are obviously no available taxis in front of the club, and so we are marching aimlessly down the street. Sharon has her arms wrapped around me and is barely conscious as we walk—so much for her record of being the drunkmaster. In fact, I use the term “walk” loosely. A more accurate description is that she’s propped up against me and I’m dragging her down the street.

I kind of don’t mind though, since I don’t really have a coat to speak of, and so she’s the only thing keeping me warm right now.

Brooke is running around us as we march. She is bouncing randomly between strangers on the street, trying to throw her arms around and make out with random guys. Alice and Hannah are following Brooke around, pulling her back every five minutes and keeping her moving with the rest of us. They are, at the moment, verbally arguing with Brooke over the fact that she needs to put her coat on. Brooke’s response: “I don’t neeeeeeeed a coat guys… I just want to kiss the booooooooys!”

I start to wonder if maybe someone slipped her some E too. Fat lot of good her slutiness has done me tonight though. Out of every guy she’s kissed all night, I just wonder why one of them couldn’t have been me.

And unattractive girl is stumbling along beside us, shoes still in hand, eyes still droopy, speech still slurred, still desperately trying to strike up a conversation with me. I’m barely listening to her though. I have a throbbing headache and am busy trying to keep my eye on the girls while simultaneously spot an available cab.

Sharon starts to groan as unattractive girl asks me what my favorite color is. I realize that I don’t even care if she hurls all over me right now.

Finally, we hail two cabs. As the cabs pull up, unattractive girl asks me if I want to split a cab.

Alice immediately shoots me a grin and subtly elbows my side, “Go for it,” she whispers.

Yeah right!

“Yeah JD!” Alice yells loud enough for everyone, including unattractive girl, to hear. “That might be what you should do! Why don’t you split a cab with Lisa!”

“Well,” I say with an undertone of frustration, “Maybe we’ll see how everyone fits in this one cab first. Since I’m coming to the hotel with you guys, sticking together would make the most sense.”

I open the back door and put Sharon in. She tells me that she doesn’t feel well. I close the door and she immediately slumps up against it.

Hannah gets into the front seat as I turn and pull Brooke off some guy whom she claims traded her a smoke for a kiss. However Brooke doesn’t smoke, nor does she appear to have the smoke that she supposedly got from the trade. Also, I’m pretty sure the guy she was locking lips with was actually homeless.

I usher her into the back. She is pouting and sad that the make outs have ended.

Alice is the last one to enter. “Looks pretty crowded,” she shouts again with hints of undertone. “If I were a big, virile man I would definitely want to be in a cab with, at most, one other girl. I don’t think anyone here would mind if you rode in a separate cab to the hotel, JD. Even if you didn’t make it to the hotel tonight that is.”

“Can you wait a minute?” I tell her seriously.

She gives me a wink and gets in and closes the door.

“So should we get that other cab?” unattractive girl asks, swaying as she speaks.

I turn around and try to give her a smile. “Look…” I say. “I’m really sorry. I don’t know what they told you, but I’m really not interested. I’m really flattered and all, but you really should be getting with someone who is really into you, and in all honesty, I’m just not that into you.”

She stares at me with offended, half-opened eyes. She reeks of alcohol and sways as she stands there. She looks disappointed and upset at the same time.

“Besides,” I say trying to add some levity to the situation, “Who would look after these guys if I went home with you?” As I refer to the girls I slap the roof of the cab a few times. I slap the roof of the cab without even thinking.

I’m about to ask unattractive girl if she is going to be alright getting home when suddenly, before I realize it, the cab pulls away. Without notice, the cab pulls away and begins to drive down the street. My slap was the signal that I was going home with unattractive girl… at least that’s how the cabbie took it.

I turn around and watch helplessly as my only ride leaves without me. The cab turns a corner and now it’s just me.

Unattractive girl is staring at me with a drunken, victorious grin. “Good luck getting home,” she slurs. She turns and walks away, shoeless and drunk.

I realize that I am now alone.

I have no cash.

I have no coat.

I have no working phone.

All night long I was forced to watch the one girl I like make out with everyone but me.

And I don’t even remember the name of the hotel we’re staying at.

I sigh, “Of… course…”

There’s a reason guys don’t attend girl’s night... Now you know.

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