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Time, Place, and Manner

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Bipolar Bachelorette Party, Part 2

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[Previously on Gin and Glannon's: Bipolar Bachelorette Party, Part 1]

You’re married? With two fucking kids? Then why the hell are you grinding on me like a video ho auditioning for Lil’ Wayne? Married life getting a little boring, or do you consider tonight a hall pass? I get it; you’re out with the girls, drinking with no responsibilities to worry about. But what, you just expect me to give you the attention you haven’t been getting at home without any thought as to what I’m trying to accomplish tonight? Fuck. The girl in the black dress is surrounded by wolves. They have her scent and are moving in for the kill. It’s almost last call. I can’t waste time with this married chick anymore.

“Have we been flirting?” That line was all it took. Her face dropped and she walked away. I took my drink and walked over to the girl in the black dress. On my way across the dancefloor I had four vodka cranberries spilled on me by various drunken woo girls. I didn’t care though. I had to reach her and separate her from the wolves before it was too late.

“How could you say that to me?!” I was stopped short by my consolation prize, eyes swollen and red with tears crashing down like a vodka and Red Bull infused waterfall. “We were having a good time. I really like you and if I wasn’t married I would have given you the fuck of a lifetime!”

“Sure, sure.” It was all I could muster because my eyes were still focused on the girl in the black dress. Thankfully the wolves weren’t having any luck.

“Why are you so upset? You said yourself that nothing would happen.” I reasoned.

“Because I like you and you completely blew me off.” She bawled as the mascara ran down her face.

“You said you were married. I’m still unclear of what you’re expecting from me.” I apologized to her hoping it would be enough for her to leave me alone, but she wouldn’t budge. It had been a while since I’ve had to deal with a hysterical, crying drunken woman. I didn’t have the patience for it in high school, not in college, and certainly not now. I apologized one more time and walked past her.

“This place is closing soon, we should get going.” My stomach dropped at those words. The girls were converging and ready to leave. I had missed my opportunity with the girl in the black dress.

“Do you guys want to call a cab or come to Lisa’s house for the afterparty?” I lit up at this new opportunity to hook up with the girl in the black dress. There was no discussion. We were going to the afterparty.


We boarded the bus one last time. The consolation sat with Todd in the front while I found my usual seat next to the vodka and stripper pole in the back. A couple of the girls looked ready to pass out, but the party was still going strong so they chugged a couple of Red Bulls and soldiered on. The music kicked on, this time a mixture of Enrique Iglesias and Ludacris. One of the girls started throwing single-serving packets of condoms at me, the kind you find in a candy bowl next to the register of a sex toys shop. Things are looking up. I stash a few condoms in my pocket fully expecting to need them later.

“Uhh.” That was the sound of my consolation prize stumbling towards me and passing out on my lap. Meanwhile, I manage to hold a conversation with the girl in the black dress for several minutes until I feel teeth on my ear. My consolation prize is awake.

“I’m still married.” She reiterates the point several more times while she alternates between biting my ear and neck. “But if I wasn’t, I would fuck your brains out.”

Why won’t you shut up? If you were more attractive I would put up with your insanity for the night, but you aren’t, so I won’t. On and on about the same thing. You’ve fallen in lust with me, I’m flattered. But are you really trying to justify your furlough from fidelity by drawing lines of how far you’re willing to stray? And they aren’t exactly bright, immovable lines, are they? First it was flirting, now it appears to be biting. Okay, let’s see how far you’re willing to take this.

We start to kiss. Then my hand wanders into her pants. Not bad for a woman with two kids. She hesitates at times, but never pulls away or tells me to stop. I’ve made my point. No need to take this any further. I don’t waste time with Cutty Sark when Macallan is within reach.

We arrive at the house and it’s raining again. We head inside and as though passing through a portal, every girl upon entering transforms into the opposite of what they had been all night—no more yelling, no more dancing, no more drinking. Two of the girls heat up some leftover pasta and get to work on it. The girl in the black dress disappears home with two of the other more attractive women. Todd and I are stuck in a house 40 miles from home with a bunch of girls who are… when did they have time to change into pajamas?!

“I think it’s time we head home. Nothing more is happening tonight.” I say to Todd who’s already on the phone trying to get us a ride home.

“You guys can stay and smoke with us for a while if you want.” Lisa announced.

“No, they’re lawyers, they aren’t allowed to smoke.”

“We’ve been high since 2:30. Law schools don’t drug test.” I responded as I grabbed the first non-alcohol containing bottle I saw.

“Yeah, but isn’t doing drugs against your code or something?”

“We’re law students, not DEA.”

I had to get out of there. The girl in the black dress was gone and the combination of bright light and sobriety revealed that the rest of the girls—the ones still here at least—weren’t as attractive as I originally thought.

“Is your buddy picking us up? We’ve got to get out of here.” I asked Todd as I took him out to the backyard.

“I told him I would give him $200 to come get us. He owes me one anyway so he’ll come.”

“Yeah, but when?”

“Knowing him? In an hour, maybe two.”

“Fuck that. We need to get out of here now. I’m calling a cab.”

“What are you guys doing out here?” My consolation prize has found me yet again. If only her abilities could be used for good, like tracking missing children.

“I’m calling a cab. What’s the address of this place?” I head inside and leave her to torture my friend who only acknowledges her blather with the occasional “uh-huh” as he plays with his phone.

“You guys are still here?” I’m done trying to figure out what’s happened.

I head back to grab Todd and we walk as far from the house as we can while making sure the cab will see us when it shows up. I flag down the cab as soon as I see it and we jump in.

“So what’s your story? Two guys calling for a cab at 4am better have a story to tell me.” For the next 45 minutes we’re in taxicab confessions mode as we relate the day’s tale to our driver. $145 later and we’re home.

Fuck. I need to get my car. Should I leave it for tomorrow? I’ll need someone to drive me over there. I ask Todd to drive me to my car, thinking it better to reclaim it tonight instead of leaving it in a blacked out parking lot for several more hours.

I finally make it home, put on a pot of green tea, drop on the couch and turn on the TV. There better be boobs somewhere.

[Read more from Shadow Hand]

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