This is about one night a few years ago. I remembered this night recently, after waking in the park, unraped, and thought back on all the stupid times I have ended up sleeping rough. And how I never learn from my mistakes. I am posting this because I doubt I’ll get in much trouble tonight, going for a casual pizza, so here is a vintage MFO story for you. And also so you can see I’m actually much better now.
The clubs closed at 3am, and I stumbled out into the competition for a taxi. One by one my companions dwindled away until I was left with Desiree and her older sister, Methuselah. (names changed for the dignity of all)
Methuselah and I only ever met through Desiree, my best friend. But when left alone together, disaster would strike hard and true. When everyone else had left, our two normally medium drunken messes fused into a supernova of profanity and mischief. That night, Desiree hummed and hawed and decided to cut her losses and head home to her pjs. I was out and dressed up and drunk, so there was no way I was done yet. I can’t bear to waste effort by going home before I’ve truly explored all my options for the night. So it was just me and old Methuselah. (she’s two years older than me, I’m just being a dick)
We hit a wine bar- a late-license basement full of fat rich men and slimey blondes with bulimic peach fuzz just visible through their orange faces….. where all you can buy to drink is wine, bloody expensive wine. We lurched around the dance floor then began stealing bottles from intimate tables where men were being distracted by their companions’ tits. We stole a bottle of white, and chugged it triumphantly, then returned to the hunt. A red, which was only half full and went down in vinagery sputters. We raised our game, dimly aware this would all end shamefully. People were looking horrified as we drank from the bottle, three sips and pass back! Three sips, you cunt! And then disposed of our empties on the tables we would rob next. We moved to Champagne- going by the price list, we were looking at 50 euro bottles and above. We were halfway through the good stuff when we noticed our antics were not going unnoticed. “Hey” and “What the fuck” registered from all angles. We fled the scene and took to the streets. I vaguely noticed there were three of us- one was a man I didn’t know. We were walking fast, not sure if anyone from the bar was following or if we were in trouble.
From across the street, a man shouted.
“Hey girls! Do you know any parties going on?”
We froze. “No”
“Oh well I’m having a party, do you want to come back to my place?”
Having a random man in our trio made us feel bold and invincible. The idea of waking up in a bath of ice minus internal organs didn’t cross my mind. We joined him. In the lift, which was about the size of my kitchen and had a FUCKING PAINTING on the wall, we noticed our host was in his 40s. Late 40s. Doubt crept in at the edges. I pushed it back with the determination of a hardened gutterslut.
We alighted on the penthouse floor and a deliciously carpeted hallway. Into his apartment I charged, after my friend and the two strange men.
Inside was nice as fuck. This guy had serious money. He gave his two bedraggled barely legal guests a tour, pointing out works of art on the walls to glazed eyes. He showed us a bottle of wine, and told us about it. We were impressed by its fancy label and began immediately to guzzle that shit as he made superfluous suggestions regarding “savouring” the notes of mahogany or what not.
The wine did not sit well with me.
The bile rose quickly and relentlessly and I lurched through the apartment, gurgling “bafffroooom” as chunky liquids oozed from my mouth. He tried desperately to get me into the bathroom, away from the beige carpet. I arrived and unleashed the evening’s bounty in the toilet’s direction. I lay on the cool floor, twitching and weak for a while until I felt better. I stood up and allowed the acids to settle in my belly. I gazed around me. Something was not right. There was a man’s face very close to mine. Not the old guy whose carpet I had ruined. The other, young guy who had been written into our posse like Buffy’s shrill little sister. His face was very close to mine, as he was kissing me. I went through the motions for a minute and then realised how vomity I was… I pushed him away as Methuselah barged in, furious.
“What the FUCK?” and she stormed out. I followed her past the poor gentleman who was realising whatever sick shit he had planned with us was flying out the door. I begged to know what I had done. Was she that disgusted I would be kissing some weirdo with vomit in my mouth? She refused to believe I didn’t notice she was with him. Like, they knew each other and this was not the first time they hooked up. What? I seriously didn’t know that. I tried to plead insane egotistical self obsession and told her I never notice what other people do because all I care about is myself. She wouldn’t believe me. She found a taxi and abandoned me. Pukophile was in the taxi with her, I realised with confusion.
I started walking in my jagged sparkly heels and reeking vintage fur coat. I was walking but I didn’t know where to go. I remembered that I had left all my stuff in Desiree and Methuselah’s house before we went out. My house keys included. And I didn’t have enough money for a taxi on my own, just enough for if we had been sharing one. I walked in the general direction of both our houses, not sure which to go for. Of course I couldn’t go home without my keys, but I couldn’t go back to theirs either. Methuselah would be all angry and it would be a horrible confrontational experience I just couldn’t handle then. I walked, tired… I reached the canal. Two disgusting low lifes were having sex on its banks. I felt safer near them, so I crouched in a corner on some broken bottles. I gave the lovebirds a slight respectful distance and clutched my coat around me, trying to cover my thighs a little… and fell asleep. I woke up and it was bright but grey and damp. Two female police officers were standing over me. They had thick country accents.
“Have ye no home to go to?”
“Excuse me?” Aware of my classy coat, I tried to play the posh girl on the side of a canal, just resting my eyes, routine.
“Dis is no place for a girl like you. Anytin could happen to ye”
“How dare you!” I pulled myself up from my heap and straightened my fur coat around me. My vision was slightly obscured by the false eyelashes dangling halfway off my eyelids.”I am waiting… for an… an AQUAINTANCE. They will be…” I waved my hands regaly at the misty road, “Arriving… shortlaayy henceforth…with…”
“Ye are yeah, move along now”
I attempted to look insulted and outraged, got up and hobbled off towards a bus stop. A bus stop is an acceptable place to wait, I thought.
I sat on some steps, ignoring the steady stream of buses going past, ferrying judgement and disgust past my crumpled body… and fell asleep again.
I woke up with sunlight was radiating my skin and giving rise to an unpleasant smell.
A taxi had pulled up at the bus stop. The driver was leaning out of the window with a concerned or amused expression.. I couldn’t tell which. “Are you ok?” he yelled.
“Mrrrrfff… Yeah… I’m fine I’m just… waiting” I closed my legs, aware I had been flashing passersby with my crotch.
“Are you sure? Do you need a ride?”
I mulled it over, then yelled some part of my predicament back at him. I not only needed a ride, I needed a ride to my friend’s house and then to mine.
I hopped in. He listened beautifully as I regaled him with my previous night’s events. He agreed with me, that I was so not in the wrong in the post-vomit kissing incident. He wanted to have a word with Methuselah on my behalf. I gratefully declined his offer, but thought it was sweet of him. Maybe he had a daughter my age or something.
He pulled up at their house. It was around midday. Desiree opened the door and walked in ahead of me, saying nothing. I saw Methuselah and couldn’t remember whether I should try to explain myself, or if sober, she would already realise how stupid the whole thing was. I triumphantly declared to the room that I was fine, I had slept by the canal and was now going home. Desiree said something like “Jesus, Cynthia. Are you sure you weren’t raped?” I laughed, “of course not”, grabbed my stuff and told her I’d talk later, when the head had settled a bit more. I just wanted to get home, shower, sleep and then eat. I left my friends, having no idea if they were all angry with me or if Methuselah had kept her mouth shut… I’d deal with it all later.
I climbed back into my waiting chariot and gave my benefactor directions to my house. We arrived quickly and he switched off the engine before placing a hand on my leg. “You’re a lovely girl” he growled.
I blocked his mouth, which was puckering in my direction, with my smelly filthy hand.
“Seriously, I just told you I puked my ring up. You don’t want to do that” I thanked him graciously, gathered my reusable bag full of clothes and crap, and alighted from the taxi as he was left cursing his good deed. “I did you a FUCKING FAVOUR!” he yelled after me.
I opened my door and entered the house as it started to dawn on me how easily I could have been raped by anyone, from canalside wanderers to pervy taxi guy. I am a foolish girl, but I will learn from my mistake and never put myself in those positons again. But then, what is wrong with men? Are my stomach acids laced with sexy juice? Or is it just that a girl with regurgitated food around her mouth screams EASY? Yeah it’s probably that. Or maybe an empty stomach makes me look dead sexy? More research is needed.
OH, and me and Methuselah are totally solid now. I can’t remember exactly what happened afterwards- she didn’t immediately understand my lack of fault in the kissing debacle, but it blew over pretty quickly when she realised how much of an uncaring dick I really am, and came to believe me about really not noticing what other people do.