Getting Girls Drunk: Beware!

**I wrote this post as a guest blogger for a private blog last year. I apologize if a few of you have already seen it. But I know most of you haven’t!

Getting girls drunk for a quick lay is very sneaky, and very douchy. And just plain lazy. Yet it’s accepted as a common thing, even by slutty girls themselves. Jaime Fox made a hit song about it, and us ladies do like to blame the booze for being slutty. Here’s the thing, I know whether or not you are ever getting any, pre-booze. Drinking will not make a difference. And I think most girls do too. They just act like the booze loosened them up. Guess what, they were already loose.

I’ve had those times when dudes tried to get me plastered to see what they could get away with. It usually ends badly. For them.

Scene: Gay club. I was out partying with my friends, some of which were not straight. (Straight girls and gay guys, always a fun mix and a recipe for a sitcom!)

We met this guy. My gay guy friends were trying to cruise him, but he was a bit more interested in chatting up us ladies. Should’ve been a clue. This guy was a mole! He was undercover. Cuz he was straight and did not reveal that until I said many nasty things about fucking. I would not have taken that route had I known he was straight because I wasn’t wanting to go home with someone that night. Which was why I was at a gay club! But he could get away with it because he was hot. We all went to another bar together, where he bought me many drinks. And of course he invited me back to his place. I said no but I would definitely call him another night.

As the night went on and we were kicked out of the clubs because they were closing, my gay friend told me to call this dude so we could all go over there. I guess his thinking was if he wasn’t gonna get any that night, one of us should. If you think all girls competing for one guys dick attentions affections for one night is weird and annoying, try throwing a gay guy into the mix. I told him it was not a good idea, as I felt really, really drunk and tired. He called the dude himself from his phone. (Um, when did he get that dude’s number?) We were going over.

So we all get in front of the TV and drink some more. And of course the dude and I start making out in front of everyone. He wants to take it to the bedroom. As we walk in making out, I suddenly see two of him, three of him, four of him. The walls in the room start to move. I stop kissing him.

“I think I have to go pee. “ I say. He stops. “You have to go pee?”

“Yeah.” I push him away, feeling physically sick and claustrophobic.

“Are you sure?” He asks, suspicious that I want to stop.

“Yes, I’m fucking sure. Where’s the bathroom?”

He shows me.

“Are you sure you’re not going to throw up?” He asks, suddenly all psychic and shit.

I get belligerant, like the drunk I am. “I’m sure bitch! I know what I gotta do and what I gotta do is go pee!”

He has now returned to being one person instead of four, but his one self is pissing me off. I go to the toilet and he watches me.

“Excuse me, I know how to go pee. Privacy!”

He steps out and I slam the door in his face.

I sit back on the toilet and pee. Who does he think he is, I know how to go to the bathroom, I know when I have to go to the bathroom, does he think I’m an idiot or something? What the fuck is his problem? Of course I have to go pee with all those drinks he got me! Probably just to loosen me up like a jerk! He’s a fuckin jerk, that’s what his problem is. I don’t wanna make out with his jerk-ass anymore and I don’t feel good anyway, fuckin jerk. Who does he think he-

Blaaahhhhh-

I threw up. All over his floor.

Shit! I stop peeing and pull up my panties and pull down my skirt. I need to stand up and turn around and face the toilet before I-

Blaaaaaaaah-

All over the wall and the toilet paper holder.

Ooops. Shit.

I am finally facing his toilet and go to kneel down.

Blaaaah-

All over the toilet seat. But I made some of it into the toilet! Score! I hurl once more and think that it’s done.

I stand up and go to the sink. Okay, I’ll just wash up and tell him I’m going home. I look at the mess. How was I gonna hide this from him? I could just walk out and slip quietly into the night. And then call my gay friend and tell him I’m at the car and then-

Blaaahhhh.

Into the sink.

Damn! Thought I was done. I turn to head back to the toilet.

Blaaaah.

Into the tub.

Damn! How much did I eat that day???

I get back to the toilet.

Blaaa, blaaah blaaaah-

Just then the door bursts open. It’s the dude.

“Excuse me! Can I have a moment please-!“ I say, indignant, barf on my chin.

“You puked all over my bathroom!”

He was right. It was all over the place. Literally. Damn, how did I even do that? My friends come up behind him and see the bathroom. They start laughing. And then I start laughing.

“Get out! Get the fuck out! “ He yells at me and my friends.

Now I’m laughing too because he’s a fuckin jerk and deserved it. I mean, we could’ve stayed and helped out cleaning, not me of course, too drunk. My friends hoist me up and we leave, and they sit me on the curb to be sure I’m done.

“I told you to just let me call him tomorrow.” I say to my friend. He shrugs. They are still laughing, we all laugh.

My advice? Get the girl drunk on your personality, your wit, or your charm, or even your bank account. Not on booze. Cuz as I like to say, karma is a bitch.