I am single, drunk and raring to go in Vegas with a girlfriend.
Thus far our weekend had consisted of the usual Vegas routine: lay by the pool all day, drink and dance all night. Wake up the next day, press repeat.
This was our second trip to Las Vegas together. The first trip we made the mistake of booking three nights. By the third night we were barely alive. We, of course, forced ourselves to go out, but I remember I literally did not want to move, let alone talk to anyone, and ended up telling some poor soul that if he did not leave me alone he was going to wake up in a bathtub filled with ice and missing organs. Sardonic grin included.
The scary part is that is a line I have used before. Basically the opposite of a pickup line, I have many repulsion lines as “Go Tos.”
So for our second trip we very smartly only booked two nights. Also different on this trip? I am single and still licking my wounds from a rather traumatic breakup.
This trip has bad decision making written all over it, am I right?
The first night we met some chaps from Connecticut. We had a lot of fun with these guys, and I took a shine to one guy in particular, Sal. He was a bit of a douche, as he was VERY particular about me not touching his hair. (Seriously, these men do exist.) But I found him attractive and got over his being a douche by calling him out on it and making fun of him to his face.
Jersey Shore meets Chelsea Handler. Booyah!
The next night my friend and I were on to the next thing. We decided to try something different, meaning we started drinking profusely and laughing hysterically at ourselves. Then Sal started texting me, wanting to meet up for the evening. I’m only in town for one weekend and am not one to put all my eggs in one basket. I answered vaguely and hoped he would move on.
A few minutes later I got a text that read: “Come to Caesars now so we can make sweet love.”
Seriously, Sal? Seriously? Sweet love. Oh my Lord!
Not to mention, it was only, like, 9 p.m. I hadn’t even caught a buzz yet!
I obviously did not respond. But I couldn’t help myself, so I periodically looked at my phone and giggled.
Oh, sweet love Sal.
First of all, if you are that concerned about your hair, you probably shouldn’t be picking up chicks for obvious reasons. Second of all, if you are looking to get in a chick’s pants, do NOT tell her you want to make sweet love. This is a weekend trip and we will likely never see one other again. There is no love involved. Knocking boots, bumpin’ nasties, or just straight up getting down to bizness – all fine.
Making sweet love? No can do. If you need me, I’ll be having a ménage a moi.