Anyway, in L.A., I've been hit on constantly. I don't exactly know what to do with it all.
At the dance club for Blondie's birthday:
I was standing on top of the couch, dancing with myself and sipping my vodka and cranberry intermittently, happy as a clam. Suddenly a guy hops up with me and we start dancing. I was fine dancing by myself but I'm having fun dancing with a random dude as well. Next thing I know we're making out. It's like halloween - sometimes a girl needs to act a little slutty every once in a while. Blondie's sitting down talking to friends and she sees us. She taps him on the shoulder and gives him the look.
I love my bestie. But lets move on.
(Blondie: you forgot the best part. I said, "I'm watching you." and he replied "Don't worry. I'm being a good boy!")
He probably wasn't the hottest guy in the club, and I know Blondie would have rather died than be seen kissing someone who wasn't a complete TEN. After a few mouth attacks I was ready to get away from him, as politely as possible. Because I'm the type of girl who would give you cupcakes just for appearing interested in me. I made an excuse to sit down. He sat down next to me, and we talked over the music for a bit. He had a stutter. Or he was tripping balls, I don't really know.
I wanted to keep dancing by myself, but I knew the second I started that he would invade my face space again. I crawled over the 10 people sitting on the couch to squeeze onto Blondie's lap. Hoping he would disappear into the crowd. He did. And I felt safe to dance again.
Y'all- guys must have a fucking sixth sense for this shit. Because not 30 seconds into my solo, I feel a hand on my waist. Sigh. Then he leaned in and whispered into my ear "Do you want to get to know each other better?"
I don't even know what that means. I started racking my brain. Hopefully he means go outside and talk about childhood memories, right? Most likely it involved a cocaine covered bathroom and a bad hand job - because lil' 'ol me doesn't carry condoms in her cigarette case. Oh well, whatever the fuck he meant, I didn't want to. I found my out.
"I don't think that's a good idea." I clearly say into his ear. He nodded, and I crawled over the sea of naked legs to Blondie again.
A friend of Blondie's who I met that night wanted to bum a cig off me, so we went outside. She's a beautiful girl, big luscious lips and a banging hourglass body. She's the typical Los Angeles hottie. We're almost done with our cigarettes when two guys come over and start talking to us. Their Australian accents are like tinkling bells to us.
"Oh, Australians, eh? Well, I hail from Ameristralia!"
Yes. I made a fucking reddit reference. They stared at me like deer in headlights (or should it be kangaroo in headlights?). Then I fucking clarified it was a reddit reference. They called me a nerd, and I died a little inside.
We end up talking to them for about 30 minutes. Blondie comes out twice to check on us. "We'll be right in," we keep saying. We hoped the boys would get the hint. We kept saying we were here for a friends birthday. They kept asking us what we were doing the rest of the night. They asked us where we were hanging out inside, we said a private table.
"Well, we have to go back inside." I announce. Blondie's friend grabs my arm and leans in.
"I told them they could come hang out with us." She's just like me - too polite to be blunt.
"Don't worry. Stick close to me, and we'll lose them in the crowd around our table. Maybe the promoters will tell them they can't hang out there, and then we're off the hook."
I lead them in, I hold Blondie's friend's hand behind my back and we waddle like jello on springs through the crowd. It parts for us - the boys, not so much. I smile sweetly to a guy pouring drinks at our table and ask to squeeze by him, and I make sure to brush against him as thanks. Blondie's friend and I stand back up on the wall behind the couch and start dancing.
I pretended like I couldn't see the two Australian boys the rest of the night, but to the honest, we had a perfect vantage point up on the couch. They were now awkwardly dancing alone in the standing crowd. We just kept dancing.
Near the end of the night, I was sitting next to Blondie. A guy I hadn't seen all night comes over and starts making small talk. "You're here for her birthday? How long have you guys known each other? Where are you from?" He even has a weird background story of rival promoters, and how if our promoter saw him he would kick him out. Lovely.
Then he says, "Do you want to be friends on Instagram?" Really? Is this the new phone number? Fucking Instagram??
"I don't have one," I lie. I do have one, but I have that thing locked down tighter than a nun.
"How about Facebook?" he even whips out his phone. I knew I couldn't lie about this one - I mean, who doesn't have a Facebook these days?
I exhale and say rather reluctantly, "I'd rather not." It's true, I have my Facebook locked down as well. I'd rather give someone my number than add them on Facebook - so many details about my life are on my Facebook and I've had a bad history of being cyber-stalked before.
The worst hit-on I saw all night, though, was as we were leaving. Blondie was standing outside the door, Blondie's friend was exiting and I was immediately following . As Blondie's friend crossed the threshold of the door, a guy standing right beside it fucking grabbed her and held her there. I stopped in shock. I couldn't hear what he was saying, but she was just staring at him. I thought she would have enough sass to bluntly remove herself, but she didn't.
I was psyching myself up to get between them, thinking I needed to allow enough time for her to do it herself and not seem rude, and I was also caught off guard. It seemed that she was, too. Suddenly, both Blondie and I rush forward, Blondie grabbing her arm and pulling her and me, yelling "hey, back off, asshole!" while throwing my arm out between them.
A few steps away Blondie says "ok, we have to protect you from the 100 guys hitting on you tonight."
A man standing a few feet away next to a cab says "Make that 101!"
"I don't think that's a good idea."
"I'd rather not."
"Hey, back off, asshole!"
I mean, really? Is that supposed to be attractive? Grabbing in the doorway, friending on Instagram, and bathroom handjobs? What the fuck, dudes?
- CrazyK
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