Columns

I’m Engaging In The Chase: Air Mattress

This is a recurring PGP series. Catch up with all installments of I’m Engaging In The Chase by visiting the archive.

I'm Engaging In The Chase: Air Mattress

The streak ended at 3:45 a.m. Sunday morning. Up until that moment in the wee hours of the scariest day of the week, I was convinced that my lifestyle was probably comparable to other 25-year-olds. Inebriated Friday night through Sunday morning and working a job they don’t particularly enjoy Monday through Friday.

I now realize that this is not the case. I sleep on an air mattress. My apartment, which is shared with 3 others, is constantly in a state of disarray and it doesn’t really get to me that much. I like it when the kitchen is clean and I have my clothes folded, but is having an air mattress instead of a real one really all that bad? Don’t answer that question. I don’t want to know the answer.

They say that when you’re on a heater you have to keep rolling the dice and that’s exactly what I did this past weekend. Thursday night? I went out to watch some basketball, drink a few Mich Ultras, and somehow ended up getting laid. Friday night? I called a repeat offender whom I hadn’t seen in about 10 months and closed the deal.

But neither of those sexual encounters were particularly interesting. The aforementioned women were not what I like to call “dragons in the sack,” and when I woke up Saturday morning with a brutal hangover, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to make it out that night. For about forty minutes, I laid on my air mattress in my bedroom and talked about nothing to strangers on Instagram live. It was lit. I spent the rest of that afternoon grazing on day old pizza and watching Frasier.

Around 8:00 p.m. Saturday night, I finally dragged my sorry ass out of bed and took a shower. I had plans on meeting up with my college roommate who was in town for the weekend and had been trying to get ahold of me all day. I felt bad about ignoring his calls but I was hungover and in no mood to speak to anyone.

About an hour and a half later, I was drunk enough to make the 0.6-mile walk from my apartment to the bar where my old roommate and his girlfriend were drinking. We caught up for an hour or so while a DJ spun records from the mid-90s. After three shots of tequila and two tall boys of PBR, my roommate’s girlfriend had already learned that I was violently single and very much on the market.

“Perfect,” she said, “My friends are almost here and one of them will probably be into this whole thing you’ve got going on. Be an asshole but don’t be an asshole, okay?”

Toeing that line between total asshole and somewhat-charming asshole is difficult, but I did it because I was on a heater. Totally and completely in the zone. It should come as a surprise to no one that by last call I had been making out with this girl unabashedly for an hour and a half. I thought it was a done deal. Three for three on the weekend was looking promising. That is, of course, until it wasn’t.

We walked the four blocks home together hand in hand, laughing about God knows what. I even warned her on the way home that I had only just moved in and my bedroom and the apartment as a whole was a bit of a mess at the moment. As we walked through my back door and I turned the lights on in my room, I saw a look of disgust and confusion on her face and I knew right then that it was over.

“Please don’t take this the wrong way, but your place is kind of a shithole. Not kind of. It is. If you weren’t sleeping on an air mattress I would have stayed over but I just can’t do this. My Uber’s here, but I had so much fun with you tonight.”

I had a sure thing. A twenty point lead with less than five minutes remaining. I was in the victory formation. And then seemingly out of nowhere, a total and utterly unpredictable collapse.

In a way, I should have seen this coming. I moved into a new apartment with three other people about four weeks ago. I have a mattress of my own, but no truck to get it here and I’ve been putting off renting a U-Haul the past two weekends because 1. I much prefer getting wasted in Chicago with my friends to spending a weekend moving a bed and 2. This air mattress I’ve been sleeping on really isn’t all that bad.

I think I’m going to take this coming weekend off, drive back to Michigan, and get my mattress. I’ve had a hell of a four weeks on this Intex, but Saturday night was an embarrassment that I don’t want to repeat.

Email this to a friend

Johnny D

fashion icon. @dudaronomy on twitter. e-mail: jduda10@gmail.com

31 Comments You must log in to comment, or create an account

Show Comments

For More Photos and Content

Latest podcasts

Download Our App

Take PGP with you. Get

New Stories

Load More