While I have been enjoying all of the IDKHow I can shove down my ear gullets, the song lyric I used as my title is wildly apropos of the story I'm going to tell.
I've moved around a lot, and after my daughter's dad and I split, I moved back down to South Florida, because it was the only place I had to go. I got pretty fucking lucky that my built in friends hadn't really moved anywhere else, so I got to hang out with Amber and Kristen a LOT. I hung out with Amber more often, because she was the favored friend, so I also got in with all of Amber's other friends she had made after I moved away. It was a pretty large group, and I got along with most everybody she introduced me to. This was back when I was social and not terrified of human interaction. There was one girl that I really was not terribly fond of, though. Her name was Natalie, and it was no secret that the feeling was mutual. She didn't like me, I didn't like her, but we were civil enough to each other, so it wasn't a disruptive dislike.
I'm still unsure of what Amber saw in Natalie. Allen and I used to make fun of Natalie all the fucking time. Allen met Natalie when we were in Amber's wedding a few years later, he walked down the aisle with her, and he hated her, too. Again, feeling was mutual, and Natalie didn't give a shit about making it hidden that she hated the both of us, but I cannot stress enough: no love lost.
Natalie was...and probably still is, honestly...a stuck up cunt. No worries, I can be a stuck up cunt when the mood strikes, as well, but there was just something about Natalie's brand of stuck up cunt that really...it really got stuck in your craw. Oh right, it's because she was relentless about it, and it was her only operating system. Natalie was tall, blonde, and chubby (though Amber has told me she dropped all of her weight and she's thin as fuck now. Good for her! I bet it's made her cuntier). The kind of chubby girl who always dressed impeccably and had her hair done always and had the french tip acrylics perfectly done at all times. Not a bad way to be, but it's a definite aesthetic archetype. Natalie was also stuck up about weird things, though I cannot for the life of me recall what specifically gave me this impression, just that I had it. So that may be an unfair color to paint her with, but here we are. She had a fuck ton of pets, too. 24 of them, very literally. One of them was a big fat skunk that was white and brown instead of white and black and I fucking LOVED that skunk. It was the size of a pillow and just the tumbliest fat thing you've ever seen. She also had pomeranians, and I fucking despise few dogs harder than those. In fact, google is recommending that I make that a proper noun, and I am refusing out of principle. Suck it, pomeranians. She had birds and sugar gliders and cats and being at her house was like being at a menagerie, and it was easy enough to forget that Natalie was a malignant tumor if Amber dragged me to her house, because I could just chill out with all of her critters and forget she existed.
Amber had to be around Natalie a lot, because Natalie was getting married in Ohio and Amber was going to be in the wedding. I really only vaguely remember being around Natalie's house because of her pets, and I have no specific recollections about the heyday that lead up to her bachelorette party, because the bachelorette party was so fucking wild that there just isn't any fucking room for other information.
In the interest of full disclosure, I am currently conversing with Amber about the beginning of the bachelorette party, because I don't remember it. I only remember the last hour of it, which I remember in fucking STUNNING detail, much to my chagrin. Amber is telling me about it, because she remembers it really well.
The information she has given me so far is that the party was planned by Natalie's maid of honor, Christina. I really liked Christina, she was really nice to me. We went out a few times, just me and her and her boyfriend (I fucking loved him. I can't remember his name, but I remember him looking like Mos Def and being equally as fucking cool. Edit to update: Amber just reminded me that Christina's boyfriend at the time was named RJ. They got married, are now divorced), Christina wanted to be a fashion designer. Which I can respect as a career goal. She was serious about it, too. Her apartment had a design desk that was always littered with piece sketches, she had one of those little mannequins that you used to sew your clothing pieces with, she was more legit than anybody else I'd ever met that harbored fashion design dreams, present company included.
Amber also remembers very little about the party, but I've still asked her for her entire recollection, because it was a wild evening. Some things I hadn't remembered, a huge thank you to Amber:
- There was a lot of penis paraphernalia. This is pretty well a given, especially because, while I remember being the youngest person there, I wasn't leagues younger, and I was 21. So a very early twenties bachelorette party is going to be fuckin' lousy with dick stuff. I feel like I vaguely remember there being a lot of penis things strewn about the apartment, but that could just be bias because Amber said it and I'm desperate to remember the first part of the evening so I can tell the full story.
- Christina had everybody bring their own shit, like their own booze and food. Now, I'm starting to think that this is something I remember, as well, and it may very well be why I was stone cold fucking sober that night. I didn't bring my own booze, so there wasn't anything for me to drink except water. I'm also wary of drinking too much because I'm emetephobic, and believe me, this information (which isn't new, I've talked about this on the blog a LOT) will play a huge part in the party later. Something that I am just now remember is a really sad, comically oversized and uneaten, bowl of Chex Mix. It was just sitting on the coffee table in a clear punch bowl, and I don't think anybody touched it. Except me, later, but it isn't time for that now.
- The party was full of other stuck up cunts, none as stuck up and cunty as Natalie's soon to be sister in law. I had forgotten about this until Amber mentioned it, but her saying so definitely triggered me feeling like a fucking outcast. I didn't talk to Amber much that night until shit started going south, and I don't remember why. I just asked her. It probably had to do with Amber being very much more social than I was, even when I didn't necessarily hate being around strangers, and also to do with Amber being more familiar with everybody involved in the wedding, so she had more people to go chat with and be polite to. I DID befriend a lady that I remember as being really nice and really cool, and very fashionable. I still remember like, vague color and shape aspects of her outfit, because it really impressed me. The top part was blue with asymmetric lines, and the bottom part was sleek and black. I think she had a shaved head, too. She was really nice to me, and I chatted with her for awhile, but other than that, I think I pretty well stuck to myself. I THINK I spent some time with Christina's roommate Jim out on the balcony, as well, but I could be conflating that with another evening. I had a bit of a crush on Jim, and I know he was there later that night, I just can't remember specifically if the balcony talks were this particular evening.
Amber has also expressed she doesn't really remember the beginning of the evening, which is a shame, because it would be nice to be like, here's what happened first, here is the lead in to the craziness, and then HERE IS THE FUCKING CRAZINESS. I like a solid linear story. Unfortunately, it appears we won't be getting that. If Amber remembers more details, I will add them as they come. But because neither of us have more details, let's get to the meat of the bachelorette party.
The dick meat.
As it seems painfully obvious (now) that this was a singledom send-off on a budget (which is super fucking funny, considering Natalie's stuck up attitude), it makes sense that the stripper, and of COURSE there was a stripper, wasn't necessarily hired from a place that was amazingly reputable, but rather was a called in favor from someone close to the group. RJ had a friend that happened to be a stripper, so RJ's friend was who Christina used for the party.
Given that the party was for Natalie, she was exempt from the "bring your own fucking booze" rule, and she got to have drinks of the booze everyone else brought. I remember taking a look at her and thinking she was god damn sloshed, and I also vaguely remember asking Amber if Natalie was going to be alright. Amber assured me Natalie would be fine. It should be noted that Amber is ALSO emetephobic. It's a pretty solid foundation of our friendship, no shit, because it's a phobia I've never encountered in anybody else but her.
So as it stands, here is the situation by the time the stripper shows up: There are decorations, there are lots of snotty girls having what I assume are conversations, Amber is flitting about talking to people, I made one friend and chatted with her off and on about the relative lameness of the party, and then. Then the stripper arrived. So, when he showed up, he wasn't dressed as a cowboy or anything, or a cop, or anything even vaguely expected of a stripper. I remember his outfit and color shapes, as well. Red top, dark jeans. There might have been a popped collar, because it was the early fucking aughts and why wouldn't there be? He introduced himself as Diesel.
DIESEL.
His stripper name was Diesel, because of COURSE it was. He had a face that had features, I don't remember them, but he was definitely fucking STACKED. Again, of course he was. He was a stripper named Diesel. A bit of completely random, totally true trivia: his real life name? Harold. Again, I cannot express enough how helpful Amber has been here, because I didn't remember that off the top of my head, but the second she said it, it clicked. I remember his name being Harold (and as I told Amber, if it wasn't Harold, it was something SUPER old sounding and equally as hilarious, like Humphrey. He definitely had an old dude name. But I feel 99% sure it was Harold) and I dined on that for fucking AGES. Of all of the professions a dude named Harold would go into, stripper seems least likely among them, by virtue of his name.
So all of us ladies gather into a concentric circle in the living room, and again, I cannot remember why Amber and I weren't sitting together, but I really don't think we were. I think I was sitting next to my new friend, and I was definitely sitting directly across from Natalie. Natalie was sitting in a chair all to herself. So, Diesel removes the bulk of his clothes....spoiler, you guys? He didn't do it with sexy panache. He just kinda took off his clothes and that was what happened. He went from Polo sporting douche to douche in a fire red thong, dancing and gyrating his way around the living room to the crowing sounds of wild, drunk ladies. As an objective observer, I can tell you that he was a fucking TERRIBLE stripper. He hadn't been doing this long, or professionally, I think he was just a dude who liked to take his clothes off and waggle his dick and balls into the faces of drunk ladies. And there's a market for that, so good for him for exploiting it, but don't try and sell a shitty stripshow to a shitty stripper and expect her to think it's good, genuine entertainment. It wasn't.
Harold's version...hang on, sorry. Diesel's version of stripping was literally the following three moves:
- Grind on a lady's lap while pouring Goldschlager down her gullet
- Grind on her face while pouring Goldschlager down her gullet
- grind the back of her head while pouring Goldschlager down her gullet
Not a huge repertoire, and if you're a sober person watching this, you get uncomfortable REAL fuckin' fast. As I did. When Harold cum Diesel finally got to me, he started inching his grinding groin toward me and I was just like, "NO THANK YOU!" and made him move along. I remember having a fucking repulsed and horrified look on my face, because what he was doing wasn't sexy, it wasn't something I wanted. It was all dick and rough grind, there was no artistry or sex appeal, and thanks a lot, but I can have a guy grind his dick into my face any day of the week. I want variety, mother fucker.
So he passed me up, and found no shortage of screaming, drunken ladies to grind and gullet, and then he made a big show of stopping at Natalie.
Now.
In my head, she is just fucking PISSED at this point. Twenty sheets to the wind, just absolutely gone intoxicated. I remember her eyes like, lolling wildly around her head, but she was still shouting and whooping and waving her chubby arms all around excitedly because some buff dude was going to smother her face with his sweaty crotch. So my recollection is a fat blonde in an armchair, eyes maddeningly wild, incoherently yelling wooooos and the other things, and Harold, nay, Diesel, sashays over and delivers the dickly goods. He goes to fucking TOWN on her body, just smearing his man meat all up and down her body, all the while damn near drowning her with stupidly gross cinnamon liquor. I specifically remember, and this isn't me trying to be funny, Natalie gagging because he didn't fucking give her any chance to breathe between Goldschlager waterfalls down her throat, he just kept the shit flowing. It was a relentless cascade of piss booze, paired with bad music and the never ending circus of Diesel's stupid cock.
I was alarmed. Everybody else was having a grand time, cheering on the show, and I snuck a glance at Amber, and I remember her and I sharing the same kind of look, and I think that's when Amber and I made our way to the kitchen area. I don't remember Amber getting her body assaulted by Diesel, and I think she had opted out because she was with Russell and it felt wrong or something. But she and I stepped away, though the apartment was wide open, so being in the kitchen still left full view of the bachelorette shenanigans. I don't remember exactly when shit went bad, but it definitely did.
I think most of the people had petered out and left, Harold/Diesel was either gone or getting dressed in another room, and I remember being in Christina's room fearing the inevitable. I fucking KNEW Natalie was going to god damn hurl, and I didn't want to be around for it. I also remember hearing everyone else in the living room reaching my same conclusion. Natalie was in a bad drunk way, and steps needed to be taken to prepare for a pretty explosive ending. I'm not sure anything sobers people up than seeing one of their drunk friends behaving in the black-out-about-to-barf way, but I heard everybody talking about Natalie, and bringing her into Christina's room, and I fucking PANICKED. Someone had already prepped the bedroom for this moment, I assume it was Christina, because there were pots and trash bins all around the bed, in what I can only presume were measures to prevent vomit from staining the carpet and having to be cleaned up. Nobody likes doing that.
I needed to fucking bail, and I needed to bail now. So I make a mad dash for the living room, I meet up with Amber at the kitchen bar and I'm like we need to fucking get out of here NOW, and then everything happens in a blur, and here's what I remember:
- Natalie sobbing
- Natalie sobbing louder
- Natalie profusely apologizing over and over and over and over, sounding more burpy and liquidy with every sorry that fell out of her mouth
- Natalie throwing up
- ME LITERALLY LEAP FROGGING OVER A FUCKING COFFEE TABLE AND THEN A COUCH AND FORCING MY WAY OUT THE DOOR
- ME SCREAMING
- ME SCREAMING MORE AND BUMPING INTO JIM OUTSIDE
- ME RUNNING DOWN THE STAIRS SCREAMING
- It being like, 2 fucking AM and I am screaming bloody fucking murder as I tear ass down the fucking stairs of a complex I am unfamiliar with, looking for someplace safe to hide from all of the vomit that is surely following me like an avalanche into the darkness
I do not remember how Amber reacted. I did not much care for her feelings about what was going on in that moment, because I had to get the fuck away from the vomit that very moment or I was going to god damn die. I really did jump over furniture, too. They had had trouble getting Natalie into Christina's room, because she was heavy-set, so they decided to move furniture first. RJ and Jim and Christina were moving things around to make an easier path to get Natalie into the bedroom, so when Natalie started apologizing and then throwing up, furniture had seriously been in all manner of weird places in the apartment, they were in the middle of moving the couch and the door had been open to give them angle room, and I am not trying to be dramatic when I say I jumped over a fucking coffee table and then leap frogged over a couch into the vomit free freedom of the outdoors. I really had to do that, and I disturbed the efforts everybody was making, but seriously, fuck them, I didn't care, I had the singular focus of creating a Drea-shaped void in the immediate vicinity.
And I really was yelling. I was TERRIFIED. I had spent the last hour or so knowing this was going to happen, and I think I even asked Amber if we could leave early because I wanted to go home, and because I was scared of Natalie barfing, but Amber kind of had a responsibility to be there because she was in the wedding party. As Amber was my ride, I was fairly stuck until she determined it was time to leave. And pretty immediately after the barf, Amber finally agreed it was time to fuckin' split.
I really don't fucking remember what happened after we left. I don't remember what happened at the beginning of the party. It is fucking WILDLY shitty that the only thing I really remember is the vomit and the events that led up to it, because it's the only part of the evening that was terrifying and traumatic.
Except, of course, for Harold.
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