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Guys Being Dudes: Crushing It

Guys Being Dudes: Crushing It

The first three weeks at his new job had felt like an eternity. A painful, sweating-through-your-button-down type of eternal hell. The only positive aspects to the entire experience were: A) Courtney with the tight ass and pencil skirts at the front desk, and B) his parents getting off his dick about a job. In fact, they were so proud of him that they had decided to rescind the initial threat to take away the family and company credit cards. Don’t call it a comeback.

He had blown a shit-ton of money on completely unnecessary work clothes, including a couple tailored suits and some Moncler polos for casual Fridays. Little did he know, that he was the gossip of the entire office. He had taken to wearing his dad’s old Datejust: a watch worth more than the other entrance-level account managers’ monthly salaries. He was flying close to the sun, hitting on every single female intern in the building, and reportedly having “drinking” lunches with his new buddy John from the other mega-banking institution in the building next door.

The weekend had finally rolled around, and he was ready to let loose. Unfortunately, he had a mid-day call with some clients on Saturday, and none of his usual pals were down to clown. Instead of having a day-rager like he so badly wanted, he instead smoked a couple bowls and left his client-call on speaker-phone while he played FIFA. They didn’t need his input, anyway. He was there merely as a formality.

He grew antsy as the day dragged on, restless. He wanted out of the house. He wanted to hit the bars and drink overpriced cocktails with the rest of the yuppie nation in the city. Forrest was out of town visiting their alma mater and some chick he used to sleep with in college. Kyle and Logan were on a hunting trip and had left earlier that week on Wednesday. They wouldn’t be back until the following night. He paused the game and placed his controller on the weed-littered coffee table.

He slid open his iPhone, tapping his thumb on the side as he tried to figure out a plan. Who else did he know around here? Suddenly, it dawned on him. John. He was a cool ass dude. He seemed like the type to rip heaters on the back patio of the bar at half-past 11:00.

He typed up a casual text to his new buddy John: “Hey, man. You down to get some beers tonight? Been a long-ass week and I heard the interns are going to Lago for drinks and out to the bars after. You in?”

He locked his phone to avoid looking for the dreaded ‘texting dots’ that indicated that the other person was replying. He felt like he was asking a girl out for the first time, nervous his new friend would turn him down on the offer. He sure was taking a long time to respond. Maybe he had been too forward. They’d only grabbed lunch a few times. Three minutes that felt like years later, his phone made a loud buzz.

Picking up his phone, he saw a text from an unsaved number.

“Hey stud. You gonna be out tonight? I may or may not be on your side of town…”

He blinked twice, hard. He’d know that number anywhere. It was Macy. His stomach dropped. Suddenly he wanted to see her. Fuck. No, he didn’t. That was idiotic. He definitely didn’t want to see her. But maybe he could run into her later? Fuuuuuck. No. Why did the guys pick this weekend to leave him with no backup? He contemplated every decision in his life he had mad up until this point when his phone buzzed again in his hand. It was John.

“Hey dude I’m totally down. Just got a few things to take care of first. Let’s pregame at my place, I’ll invite some chicks from my building. I’ll send you the address. Is it cool if I bring my friend Todd along? He’s trying to blow off some steam, too. Swear he’s a good time.”

He almost texted John back and told him never mind, he would be staying in after all. He almost replied and took it all back. He knew how the stars would align. He would run into Macy. She had some sort of magnetic pull on him. He could just stay home and avoid it all.

But that’s not what closers do. He was going to the bars, dammit. He was going to the bars with his new friends, and by God, he was going to get blacked tonight.

Image via Shutterstock

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Taylor

Texas native and Alabama grad with a Drake problem.

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