This story too failed to make the conversion from the old incarnation of drunkrex.com to the new one. I wrote this a couple years back, I guess, about a run-in with one of my less emotionally stable ex-girlfriends.
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One random Tuesday about a year and a half ago, I got an email from an unfamiliar address. After some thought I wearily clicked the 'Open' icon and up popped a rambling message in purple 14 point font. It was from Tammy--an ex-girlfriend from sophomore year who had, as far as I knew, dropped off the face of the earth. The following message is Ctrl C, Ctrl V'd directly from the original email except for the parenthetical comments:
"Hi Neen (her pet name for me--don't ask). Remember me?! Been a long time. I have a boyfriend and I'm really in love with him he's perfect and the sex is great even though your penis is bigger than his. I love my job. I run my parents florist business (something she swore up in down she would NEVER EVER do) and I make salary and commission I'm buying a new beamer this spring I don't know what style or color though it's tough. So, you wanna meet for drinks in the city tonight. Catch up on old times. Ya know. Bye. Tammy"
How can you say No to a request so replete with possibility? I emailed her my phone number and she called immediately. The phone rang literally 30 seconds after I clicked 'send.' She tried to make small talk but I couldn't listen to her breathless prattle. I finally told her I was busy so we quickly set a time and a place for that evening and I hung up without a 'goodbye.' Nope, I'm not bitter...
I couldn't believe I agreed to see her. I hate this bitch. This is the whore who snuck away during the biggest party of the year while I was at the bar and fucked one of my fraternity brothers in his room. I know this because I caught them--what kind of idiot doesn't lock his door when he is pounding his frat brother's girlfriend. I also know this because he got her pregnant...that night! YEAH!! Fuck her. Comeuppance is a bitch, bitch!
I met her at the bar across the street from my office at 6:30. I walked in, scanned the high-backed, English pub-style booths, and found her. Already drunk. Apparently, as she admitted to me later in the evening, she felt it necessary to dispatch a bottle of wine before getting on the BART train to come into the City. She ran-stumbled up and gave me a big hug and a poorly-aimed drunk kiss. I smiled and laughed and immediately ordered a double Vodka Tonic with a shot of tequila (if I am going to do this, I am going to do this as painlessly as possible).
Drinks in hand, I guided her toward the empty booth from whence she came. Before she even sat her cheating ass down she launched into a chronicle of the previous 3 years of her life. It started and it JUST. DIDN'T. END. She was like Six from Blossom except with bigger breasts and better fashion sense.
"So I met Jason at the pediatrician's office. He's a nurse there (you can make your own joke here, you don't need my help) and makes good money and helps a lot of people. He helped me through a tough time you know with the break-up with Brian (what you need to realize here is that there never was a relationship to break up. She haunted him like a shadow and he wanted nothing to do with her. I have a feeling "break up" really meant "Restraining order") and the eating disorder and the hysterectomy and he's great in bed even though his penis isn't as big as yours but that's okay because he respects me and he likes Brian a lot--"
Against my better judgment and out of sheer morbid curiosity, I interrupted
DrunkRex: "Who cares if he likes Brian? You said you guys broke up"
Tammy: (with a giggle)"No silly, Brian is my baby boy."
DrunkRex: "Wait. WHAA?! YOU NAMED YOUR ONE NIGHT STAND BABY AFTER HIS ONE NIGHT STAND FATHER?!"
Tammy: (blank stare)
Tequila shot number 1--GONE.
I got up from the table without a word and reloaded at the bar. I brought her a Midori Sour and she chugged it. I shook my head in disbelief. For once in my life, I had nothing to say. After a couple seconds, she re-cocked her verbal hammer and resumed firing away. I let her talk for what seemed like an eternity before I pulled the tried-and-true 'watch-check to arms-over-head yawn' move. It worked like a charm...almost. She stopped mid-sentence and said in a loud whiny girlfriend voice, "Ohhhh, is my Neeny-Poo tired?" I slumped back against the booth a defeated man. I looked down dejectedly at my drinks, chugged them both, grabbed my coat and walked out.
4 hours, it's 11:00pm. I am at home, hammered, watching the Simpsons.
The phone rings and I pick it up like a dumbass. It's her. She's even more smashed than when I left her. She wants me to come pick her up in the City. I tell her she's on crack and that there is no way I would--or could--drive across the bridge to pick her up even if I wanted to. She asks if she can come over and hang out. I relent and say sure (STUPID!!). I give her directions--Central Ave. exit, go to the top of the hill, make a right, pink house on the right across from the golf course--and hang up. 45 minutes later the doorbell rings and I am yanked out of my semi-drunken slumber. It's her. She looks like a bag of awful. Disheveled, drunk, vulnerable. We sit down on the couch and she starts in again with the diarrhea of the mouth.
"I'm so glad you let me come over I don't want to be alone tonight because I miss Jason so much he is so great we are in love and the sex is great even though his penis isn't as big as yours (for those of you keeping score at home, that was, in fact, her 3rd reference to the superiority of my package--issues, ya think?) he makes lots of money and buys me things and puts me first and tells his friends he's gonna marry me and his mom loves me and we have a kitty named Raskolnikov."
She goes ON and ON for another five minutes or so. The whole time she keeps lightly slapping my leg in that rambunctious/flirtatious sort of way. What she doesn't quite realize is that she is periodically touching my package with her little love taps. Being the semi-drunk male I am, I start getting aroused. Eventually, I catch her noticing the bulge in my basketball shorts. She pretends not to notice and continues with her drunken diatribe. She's in the middle of yet another "I love Jason so much" soliloquy when out of nowhere she pulls up the leg of my basketball shorts and inhales my erection.
I was so taken aback I nearly failed to recognize how good it felt. She got after it like a junkyard dog. She even did that deep-throat pornstar head shake thing. It was amazing. It was so good I was ready to blow after like 90 seconds. By the time I gathered my wits about me, I was at the point where every part of your body becomes tied up with the impending orgasm. I had no control over anything I said or did. I was about to absolutely uncork. She knew it too and immediately shifted her motormouth into 5th gear. I grabbed the back of her head with both hands for good measure because...well, why not...and, from the depths of the blackness that is my sub-conscience, uttered these six little words:
"Oh Tammy, my little cum dumpster"
Oh Jesus. I was paralyzed Christopher Reeve style. My body was frozen and my eyes got really big the way they get when you realize you may have just completely debased another human being with quite possibly the most offensive phrase she has ever heard. Fortunately, my Mike Utley paralysis is broken by my uncontrollable fits of hysterical laughter. Oh, did I not mention that when I clubbed her upside the head with the cum-dumpster stick, she choked on my load and squirted nearly all of it out her nose and mouth? It was one of the three or four funniest things I'd ever seen. I didn't know that could actually happen. I couldn't stop laughing. My stomach hurt so much I wanted to throw up.
Tammy giggled at first too, but when I wouldn't stop laughing she burst into tears. Between waves of alligator tears, she kept saying "I don't do things like this," and "I love Jason so much," and "we're meant for each other," and "he respects and loves me." This from the conniving BITCH who cheated on me with MY frat brother, in MY frat house, at a party thrown by MY frat.
I wanted to soothe her but a) I couldn't stop laughing and b) I didn't care. Fuck her. Naturally, she got pissed and fled bawling from the house. She left her bag, her car keys, her shoes. I eventually passed out on the couch with my sad little limp dick hanging out of my hiked up basketball shorts and my leg hair matted down with man glue.
One of my roommates woke me up around 4:30 am when he got home from work. I'm sure he loved that sight. I started making my way to my bedroom when I realized Tammy left everything in the house. I went outside and her car was still there, but she was nowhere to be found. I shouted her name a few times and got no answer. I shrugged and went back to bed.
I woke up for work that morning regular time (a miracle by itself) and showered away some of the hangover by drinking unhealthy amounts of shower water and doing my best Tracy Gold impression. With my motor skills still significantly impaired, I got dressed and stumbled bleary-eyed to my car across the street. I got up to the driver side door when, what do I see out of the corner of my eye, but Tammy. Asleep. Between the blocks of the white tees on the 13th hole of the golf course across the street from my house. She looked like a corpse. I didn't know what to do. My first instinct was one of panic...so I got in the car and went to work.
Haven't heard from her since.
Posted by nils at 3:57 PM