So, I haven’t posted an entry in a while because I wasn’t sure what story to share first but I was talking to my soul sister last week who was so upset about a bad hook-up experience with a dude and his whiskey dick. She was almost in tears because she thought it was something that she had done but I told her that all guys go through that at some point or another and it had nothing to do with her. I told her about my experience with a whiskey dick to make her feel better and she could NOT stop laughing. Like I had to put my hand on top of her mouth to silence her because she was shaking and hysterical. Chill out, girl. It wasn’t that funny. She told me that I had to post this story immediately so, here we are…
Soul sister. This one’s for you.
This happened a few years back when I was a little more cavalier with my drinking habits and sexual reputation. I was at the local watering hole in our hometown and a dude was buying me drinks and in exchange, I was letting him shove his tongue in my mouth. We were hanging by the bar and nearing the end of the night when in walks Mr. California himself. It’s true, he really was titled “Mr. California” from our high-school male pageant. I know, that shit would never fly these days with those meninists but whatever. He was the former Mr. California and he was gorgeous: half-Japanese and white with green eyes or something sparkly in that realm. He was on the soccer team, student government and what’s more, he looked you in the eyes with those sparkly gems and seemed genuinely interested in what you were saying, even a lowly freshman such as myself when he was a senior. Anyways, flash forward to this random night and he walks in like a damn Calvin Klein model. Where the hell was that wind coming from?? He slinks right up to where I’m standing near the bar and gives me this playful grin with droopy eyes slightly reeking of Jack Daniels. “Hey Madagascar.” ( A nickname given to me in high school) “You’re looking good.” Holy shit. Did he just say that to me?! The same old butterflies I used to get when I was in high school hit me like a ton of bricks. But I quickly put my nerves in check. I now had maturity and sexual confidence that I certainly did not have in high school, or college if we were being completely honest. “Hey, yourself.” (Brilliant, I know.) And that poor guy who was buying me drinks all night, who I promised I would see the following day and would come with me to a family picnic (I know, I’m crazy), who still had his hand on my waist at this time became a foggy, distant memory…Mr. California pulls me in for a hug and whispers in my ear that I will be going home with him that night. Nothing could be more true. I had dreamt about this moment since I was a freshman. Granted the details were a little more tame and something out of an old Taylor Swift song, pre-jaded days but hell, I was READY. We down a couple more shots and we are gone. His friend drops us off at his place and he tells me that we have to keep it down since his roommate was asleep. I totally understood. Roomie drama is a total buzz killer. We sneak into his room and start making out on his bed. This was it. It was finally happening. He has me pinned down and is kissing my mouth when he pauses and looks deep into my eyes with those sparkly gems and says, “You know what would be so hot right now…” I’m thinking ice, hot wax, blindfold, two of you? “We should put on Pirates of the Caribbean.” Umm, what now? He’s like “Yah, Pirates of the Caribbean. It’s this pirate movie and it would be sexy to have it on in the background.” First of all, yah dude. I’m familiar with Johnny Depp’s biggest franchise movie. I don’t live under a rock and second of all, what the fuck? But I’m kind of too buzzy to really care at this point so he puts it on and we proceed to make out. Then, he tells me to call him Jack Sparrow. Right. Okay, I’m cool with this. I’m discovering my inner sex goddess, since unfortunately, 50 Shades wasn’t written back then to guide all of us awkward young females to our inner sexuality, and I could be whoever Penelope Cruz’s character was in the movie. The only problem was that his little buddy was at half-mast. I’m actually okay with this since I’m drunk and falling asleep doesn’t seem like such a horrible alternative at this point. But for some reason, this guy thinks he can still get it up. He’s slurring and his eyes are getting heavier and heavier and I’m just holding my breath. Then, I can hear the light snoring that turns into what sounds like a monster truck rally and try not to think about smothering him to death with his pillow. And that was my experience with a whiskey dick. I didn’t take it personally because the next morning, we did end up having some pretty good morning sex but the fantasy was gone. No longer did I hold this guy on a pedestal. To be honest, if I could do it again knowing how it turned out, I would have passed on hooking up. My fantasy was wayyy better than reality. Oh and it gets better, as I’m using the bathroom the next morning, I bump into an older woman in the hallway. Weird. This must have been the roommate that he was telling me about. “Hi,” she says warmly. “I’m Jack’s mom.” Umm, taxi?!
cocomisadventures 