“these friends decided to have their birthday party at…one of those shitty generic places that plays Livin’ On A Prayer intermittently throughout the night, muting it when it gets to the chorus so everyone can yell along.”
Anonymous reader “Stomach Sick” writes in:
When I stop to think about it, I have no choice but to realize that all my makeouts have fallen under the disgusting category. But alas, I will start with the first.
When I turned 18 in mid-April of last year, the weather was horrible. Instead of going to a club with my of-age friends, I slept over at my underage friend’s house and watched freaks and geeks till we fell asleep. Because I was still in high school at the time, the opportunity to go to a clubbing did not present itself again until June, when two other friends turned 18.
Both of these friends decided to have their birthday party at the same club, one of those shitty generic places that plays Livin’ On A Prayer intermittently throughout the night, muting it when it gets to the chorus so everyone can sing yell along. Various screens around the room displayed photographs of slutty girls and bro-ish boys having the time of their lives at this particular club, and the small dance floor featured a miniature stage complete with stripper pole. So a real classy place, I guess is what I’m trying to say. Because this was my first time at a club, I was pretty unsure of how to act and what to wear. I spent the evening trying on all my clothes, finally settling on a generic purple bubble-hem tank, jeans and flats. An outfit my older, club-experienced brother assured me would fit right in, but an outfit that absolutely did not represent me as a person. I guess it was the first step in a night filled with compromised morals and bad choices.
I drove to the club with my guy friend who does not drink and is a pretty big nerd (I don’t say that meanly). Once we were there I drifted over to my girlfriends and we started taking shots, most notably tequila. After we had a good buzz going, my one friend and I started dancing with these two guys. They bought us drinks and we found out they played with the local baseball team. I don’t give a shit about sports, but I guess that night it impressed me? We started making out a little bit, but then he said he had to go to the bathroom. I left the dance floor also, and as I was making my way past one of the bars, a man grabbed my arm and bought me a drink. By then I was pretty wasted, and “Diego” started telling me different places to kiss him on his face. I complied, and he kept buying me drinks. After a while, we made our way over to a corner and started making out. He was terrible. He sucked on my tongue and bit down on it, which was in no way pleasant, but instead rather painful. He was hard, but it was not impressive. He kept telling me to come home with him and I had enough sense to at least refuse. Sometime during the makeout, baseball player (Alex?) and his friend came looking for me. He convinced me to dance with him again, and the next thing I know, we were making out near the DJ booth. This was in no way a secluded area. Suddenly he had his hands down my pants. I was wearing pretty tight jeans, so this must have been pretty difficult for him. He started fingering me right then and there. I should mention that I was on my period at the time and had a tampon in. Fucking gross, I know. I think I half-heartedly tried to touch his dick, but he wouldn’t let me. If the situation wasn’t pathetic and disgusting enough, the DJs decided to shine a spotlight on us. I’m pretty sure the crowd started cheering. Finally my friend came up to me to tell me that my ride was leaving. I left “Alex,” promising to call me the next day and headed home with my friend who drove me there.
At some point during the night, I remember frenching some other random disgusting dude who tasted like smoke, so I ditched him. “Alex” never called, and I was thankful. A few months later, I went back to the same club with my visiting cousin. I ran into “Diego,” whose name I had not previously known, and whose face had till then been a dark blot in my mind. Turns out he was a chubby Mexican dude with ugly pants and greasy hair, probably going on thirty. I blew him off, as bitchily as possible.
I like to pretend this never happened, but the truth is, that was the night I had my first kiss. I felt like shit the next day and I still do when I think about it, so I try not to. I also couldn’t look my nerdy guy friend in the face for a few weeks. It was a disgusting experience, and since then I have felt like a big slut. All in all, it was a big regret, and I am resoundingly ashamed, but it certainly makes a good contribution to Disgusting Makeouts.