Ther art of getting laid - Day 2Submitted by Spam at 2008-07-22 19:01:57 EDT
Rating: 1.94 on 62 ratings (62 reviews) (Review this item) (V)
Day 1: http://www.ubersite.com/m/117674
"I take it didn't go too well then?"
I'm not really a morning person at the best of times but after a restless night spent on somebody else's sofa when all I really wanted to do was have meaningless sex with the first available female, I'm in no mood for chit-chat. I rub my bleary eyes and creak to an upright position to grab my tea.
"I see you helped yourself to my whisky when you got in last night then?"
I'm not sure if I got any sleep last night but I guess I must have done. There's no way I could've gone through a bottle of that rancid shit and not passed out at some point but all I can remember is closing my eyes and being assaulted by images of Her every time I tried.
Friday: Day 2 - Hannah
*****INCOMING SMS - HANNAH RAY*****
*** yo Sammy D!! u still being an ignorant fucker or are we on for drinks this pm?***
Joe's 26 and lives on a disused farm that I use as a base camp whenever I feel the need to come back home. Circumstances mean that while he’s not rich by any means, he’ll never have to work a day in his life. Instead he spends his days wearing tattered old jeans and a dirty ripped t-shirt trying to make his country home as self-sufficient as possible. Some people think he’s rude or just a bit strange but really, he just doesn’t give a fuck what other people think. It’s why I like him.
I once took him to a party full of pretentious Oxbridge graduates and while I spent the evening talking to everybody in a posh accent to take the piss, Joe went down a somewhat different path by getting shitfaced and repeatedly shouting: “GO FUCK YOURSELVES, YOU BUNCH OF STUCK UP USELESS CUNTS”
I don’t think I’ve ever loved anybody as much as I did that boy right then
" 'Ello booty."
Hannah saunters into the beer garden with a pint of lager in one hand a Malibu and coke in the other. Smiling, she sits down, takes a large draught from the pint and passes me the Malibu which I eye with unmasked contempt.
"You taking the fucking piss?"
She's put on a bit of weight and her face seems to have aged in the six months since we last got together but I can't help but like her, she's the true definition of a 'nice personality'.
"How's things? Still seeing that blond bird?"
I let out an involuntarily sigh, knowing this is a mistake immediately but it's too late and her interest is peaked so there's no way I can go through the afternoon without telling the story. Yet again, after taking a sip from the rancid girly concoction she's bought me, I find myself starting a date by talking about my ex-girlfriend and my broken heart.
"So she dumped you for a black guy?"
"Well yeah, I guess... but that's not really the point Hannah."
"Don't worry dude, he's probably given her AIDS by now anyway."
Even though it hurts, I can't help but laugh, calling Hannah was a good move. She's simple, uncomplicated, easy. I make the decision right there to sack my evening date off and stay with Han.
*****INCOMING SMS – SHARON JONES******
***We still meeting up today dude? I’m having a really shitty day and could do with a chat***
*****REPLY TO – SHARON JONES******
***Sorry chick, somethings come up – raincheck?***
The thing that’d come up was a fucking unholy amount of alcohol. Jesus Christ this girl drinks like a pikey at happy hour.
After bar-hopping all day I’m way past unsteady so we’ve settled for her local Social Club. Her dad’s on the committee and her mum runs the bar so it’s best behaviour all round which is a chore because all I want to do right now is pass out in a puddle of my own piss and vomit.
Hannah, looking rosy cheeked and tipsy, grabs a guy from the bar and hauls him over to stand next to me.
“Sam this is David. David, keep Sam out of trouble while I go for a piss."
This is awkward, I know this guy even though I’ve never met him. He and Hannah were engaged for two years before she broke it off and proceeded to whore it up with a slew of one-night stands. Enter: Me. Annoyingly, the more we talk, the more I realise that actually, he’s quite a likeable guy.
Hannah Returns and immediately fucks up what looks to be a budding friendship.
“David, Sam is the younger upgrade I replaced you with.”
What. The Fuck?
The comment freezes the smile on his face and I watch it slide gradually from amused merriment to injured sorrow in the space of seconds. Pride and etiquette dictate that he should just walk away angrily but he can’t and I don’t blame him. I share his outrage.
“Why the fuck would you say something like that? That’s a fucking horrible thing to say”
His voice is soft but that just makes the impact more profound and, as they face each other in a moment of noiseless fury, I find myself stealthily shuffling over to stand next to David rather than back Hannah up.
*****INCOMING SMS – JULIE HARRIS*****
***Hi babe, had a great night last night, you still out in town tonight?***
*****REPLY TO – JULIE HARRIS*****
***Sorry didn’t make it, am in a club out in the burbs.***
*****INCOMING SMS – JULIE HARRIS*****
***Aww what?! I’ve only come out because I thought you were out and I wanted to see you. Please come meet me. xxx***
I look from my phone to the still-silent argument raging in front of me. No contest.
*****REPLY TO – JULIE HARRIS*****
***There in 10 ***
The pub is dark but it’s the booze that’s blinded me. Jules sits slouched up against my chest with her hand on my thigh and somehow, my arm has worked it’s way round her shoulders. I’ve no idea where we are or how we got here but that’s not important. Music pumps through the wall of speakers near the stage but despite the cacophony, we’re both sleepy, groggy. Content.
“I love you.” She breathes to me.
“Me too,” I say, rather lamely.
Joe, who I assume joined us earlier in the night glares at us awkwardly as we wait for a cab in the wind and rain. Julie is pressed up against me, trying lethargically to wrap my overcoat around her as well. I don’t complain.
“I’ll see you cunts later” he slurs, before staggering off into the night.
Gently, I lower her onto the bed and place the duvet cover over her unconscious form, fully clothed. I stay there for a timeless moment and bask in the peaceful serenity of her expression. She really is quite beautiful.
The cab pips his horn outside and so I kiss her affectionately on the forehead before sliding out of the door, proud that, even in this state of drunken desperation, I only really considered getting into bed with her for a second or so.
It’s a different story now of course. Massively drunk, totally drenched, bone-tired and locked outside the farmhouse that I’ve never needed a key for because it’s always been open, I’m wishing I'd got into that bed uninvited, or at least crashed on the sofa. Where the fuck is Joe?
I hunch up against his front door trying to shield myself from the lashing rain and try to get some sleep but every time I do I see Her face. That Cunt. Laughing at my best laid plans for the weekend unravel.
This isn’t how this story’s supposed to end. It’s supposed to end in a bed, any bed, with me sleeping contentedly, wrapped up in the warmth of a beautiful woman.
But instead I’m here in the dark. Cold, wet and utterly alone. A failure drenched in bleak depression that falls from a black sky.
*****INCOMING SMS – HANNAH RAY*****
***WHERE R U??? I’m bored. Wanna fuck???***
It doesn’t matter how she acted earlier. Doesn’t matter that I’m drenched and my legs are coated in mud, That alcohol and sleep deprivation mean I’ve only got about 30 minutes of consciousness left in me. All that matters is whether or not I can afford the £9.50 cab fare back into town.
I empty my pockets and claw through the loose change with a mad glare of hope in my eye.
The rain mists in the fluorescent arc of the cab’s headlamps as it pulls up to the gated entrance and my heart soars. I feel sober, rejuvenated, ready. This is what this was all about Sam. Get the girl and fuck the girl to forget the girl. I don’t fucking care if I’ve built this up too much now, if its disappointing, if she’s too drunk to stay awake. Fact is, the targets that were set on my sofa at 3pm on that cloudy Wednesday afternoon are all about to be fulfilled. Life is fucking brilliant.
The door of the cab swings open and my whole world crumbles.
Joe literally falls out of the taxi onto the wet grass gurgling incoherently, totally fucked up beyond all bounds of acceptability. An angry cabbie leers over the passenger seat at him menacingly.
“Tenner.” he growls.
“HA! I’ve got no fucking money! Fuck Yoooooou!!” Joe begins to laugh uncontrollably over his clever jape before sinking into a coughing fit, vomiting up against the wheel of the car and passing out with a smug grin on his face.
My thoughtful gaze shifts from Joe, to the cabbie, to my phone before finally resting on the £9.80 that’s still in my hand. It's the only money I have and represents the only chance I've got of getting back into town to meet Hannah while she's still drunk enough to touch my penis.
It's not an instant decision.
Not even a quick one.
“What happens if I don’t pay for him?”
The cabbie just glares at me.
I don’t think I’ve ever hated anybody as much as I do that boy right now.
Part 3 - http://www.ubersite.com/m/117802