"Gimme
gimme gimme a man after midnight / Take me through the darkness to the break of
the day"
—Abba
To
me, Valentine's Day has always been a big deal. I did not have a love interest until
I was 19, but the idea of it always seemed charming. Growing up, I remember my grandma
decorating more for Valentine's Day than Christmas. Perhaps her fondness for
the holiday rubbed off on me, as each year I always seem to get excited for a
holiday about love, despite the fact that I'm generally single during it. Sure,
it's just a holiday created for consumers, but it's also a nice annual reminder
of what's happening (or not happening) in our love and sex lives.
Most
people I know, single or attached, treat Valentine's Day like an over-hyped
hassle that never lives up to the ideals of its name, much like New Year's Eve
or Halloween. A few years ago, I convinced a few bummed out single friends that
we would have a great night out with just the three of us. My good friend
Meryl, who had recently dumped her snoozy boyfriend, wasn't sure, until our
perky American friend Suzie promised to drive up for the evening from Bellingham.
Meryl was convinced.
Our
evening started with some mild cocktails (aside from Suzie, who was driving),
and we made our way to the now defunct gay bar The Odyssey for an evening of
costumed dancing. The three of us showed up armed with gold facepaint, feathers,
and warrior-like outfits.
As
far as Valentine's Days went, it felt like any regular club night (which, for
me, is pretty rare, I won't lie). I was having fun, though, especially when we
bumped into our DJ friend Ricky Gaga, who quickly joined our entourage. Meryl
painted a gold swipe onto his face in no time.
Despite
not drinking, it was clear that Suzie was a bit loopy, and she confessed she was
blazed on Five Hour Energy and Rock Star. "What?" she said with a
smirk. "I couldn't work all day and then make that drive up here solely on
my own endorphins!"
We
danced for most of the night, and despite never meeting either of my friends
before, Suzie was a hit. The caffeine must have really hit her system because
everyone thought she was wasted. "This is the best Valentine's Day
ever!" she shouted. "Fuck men!"
And
as she said that, a huge shirtless group of gay men around her rejoiced, like a
church congregation to their sermon, with Ricky leading the pack. In fact,
Ricky and Suzie seemed to hit it off quite well, and despite his major
homosexual tendencies, it almost seemed as though the two of them would go home
together.
Around
three, the club was closing, and I was more than ready to head back home and
hit the hay. But Suzie was our driver, and as our special guest, she got it her
way when she said, "What's that all-night vegetarian place?"
So
we headed to The Naam, which was nearly dead. The four of us seated ourselves
at a round table, the sweat dripping off our brows and the gold makeup running
down our cheeks like tears of victory. We ordered our food, and without a flinch,
Suzie bolted off to another table, where a single gentleman with shaggy hair
wearing a striped shirt was hunched over alone on a table.
She
sat with him for a good five minutes before the two of them headed back
together to our table. He introduced himself as Paul, a South African on a
working visa. He took one look at the group of us, unified by our makeup and
feathers, and asked, "What are you motley crew? You in a band or
something?"
Known
for my ability to be quite a good bullshitter, I told him "Yeah. We just
finished playing a gig for Valentine's Day." When he asked details about
our music, I told him, "We're a party band. From Daytona Beach. We're
called Thre$ha. We play Ke$ha covers." This set him off, as he sneered his
face, and told us, "I live around the corner. Come have a beer at my place
and I'll show you some real rock n' roll."
So
we went. He literally did live around the corner from the restaurant. Despite
the fact that it was now around 4:30 in the morning, the group seemed
interested in where this was going. We ended up in the basement bedroom
belonging to a stranger.
He
cracked some PBRs, and played us his idea of real rock music – ABBA. Nobody
commented on it, as the beer was free, and before I knew it, someone suggested
a game of spin the bottle. Within minutes, I was laughing my ass off at the
combination: two gay males, two straight females, and a straight guy.
Ridiculous. The real twist came when Suzie spun the bottle and it landed on
herself. "I guess this means you've all got to kiss me."
Meryl
and I were quite honestly tired by this point, but within minutes Ricky and
Paul had Suzie completely naked, and the apparently gay Ricky was eating her
out. "It's not so bad," he said. "Am I doing it right?" She
giggled and said, "It feels like a rim job in the front."
I
could not believe what I was watching. Paul seized the opportunity, and whipped
out a condom. Quickly, he was fucking her on the bed and I decided to awkwardly
slip off. Ricky made a good third player, but Meryl and I were done.
We
sat on the floor, listening to the moaning mixed with "Dancing
Queen", and I commented, "This is really not where I saw my
Valentine's Day going." She laughed and said, "Yeah. 'Fuck Men'?
Looks like she got her wish." Despite the fact that they had beautiful
figures, I couldn't watch the whole thing. I caught pieces of it, and it just
seemed to go on forever. "Is this what straight sex is like?" I
asked. "It takes so long." The whole room burst into laughter. It
reminded me of how long it had been since I'd had sex myself, and being in this
situation made me okay with that.
I
don't regret the way that evening went. It makes a great story, and I'm of the
mindset that most life experiences give us something beneficial. Despite my
common curiosity about threesomes or the like, that night proved me to be a
real old-fashioned guy who likes his sex one-on-one in the comfort of a private
space.
The
drive home occurred in complete silence, as Suzie dropped off the others at
their respective homes. Each time the back door slammed, it got that much more
silent. Halfway home on the freeway, Suzie and I, alone in the car, caught eye
contact and simultaneously burst out laughing. "Not quite cinnamon hearts
and paper cards," she said. "But it'll do."
//JJ Brewis, columnist
//Graphics by Lydia Fu
//JJ Brewis, columnist
//Graphics by Lydia Fu
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