======= ======= ====== ====== ====== ===== ==== ====== ====== ===== ==== ======= ======= ====== ====== ====== ===== ==== ====== ====== ===== ====
My weekend adventures out in the city have become rather routine. I start drinking at a friend’s apartment, we move to another pregame or a bar, and then everyone tries to get laid. It’s simple, unrefined, and fun. Some nights you strike out, other nights you put another notch in your belt. The uncertainty of it all is addicting, and it’s why I’m out just about every Friday night. But re-connecting with an old flame is different from going home with a stranger. You know each others preferences in bed. Sex is more fluid. More streamlined. Better.
I had been lying in bed for most of Saturday afternoon. I had finished taking some clothes to the dry cleaners and completed a trip to the grocery store all before 11 a.m. that day. I was proud of myself, and I rewarded my body with a trip back to bed around 2 p.m. I took a gentleman’s nap (that’s a nap lasting longer than 2 hours) and awoke to a few notifications on my phone which was now charged to 100%. Love it when that happens. Between a missed call from my mom and a snapchat of some asshole at brunch who I drunkenly added, I had a text from a girl I haven’t spoken to since last summer.
Bridgette: Hi what are you doing tonight?
Read: 5:19 PM
Me: uhhh no idea. going to my friend’s apartment for drinks in a few hours if you want to join.
Read: 5:30 PM
Bridgette: Yeah, okay. I have to go to this birthday party but I’ll let you know.
Read: 5:35 PM
Me: okay cool
“Bridgette” is a girl I was regularly hooking up with for two months this past summer. We met on the night of my 24th birthday at a bar that more times than not, smells like a mixed drink made of vomit and stale beer. I love it there. I was out with 6 or 7 people and talking to anyone within earshot who would listen about why I think recycling is bullshit. I was in no shape to be hitting on girls that night. Our server was Bridgette, a 19-year-old who was spending the summer in Chicago before school started back up in the fall in Missouri. My friends and I were, unsurprisingly, ogling her most of the night. This is chauvinistic and rude to say, but a 19-year-old girl’s body is different from that of a 24-year-old woman’s body. Everything is just tighter, you know? It came as a shock when I got the tab for my 4 Bud Lights and round of shots. The bottom of the receipt had a message on it. “happy birthday :), let’s get a drink sometime 555-555-5555”. One of my greatest pulls. And an incredibly ballsy move from our girl Bridgette. I had never seen such initiative. She got a great tip. I was a drunk asshole for 3 hours and came out of it with a number from the girl who waited on my table. I’d like it to be known that I thought she was my age when I met her. I did not learn she was 19 until we were sitting down for sushi. I ordered a bottle of saki, and we both got carded. She sighed heavily after the waitress had walked away. “So glad my fake worked. That would have been embarrassing.”
So back to Saturday. I hadn’t heard from Bridgette, and I had honestly forgotten that she had texted me earlier in the day. I stood huddled under the entrance to a parking garage with three of my friends. The flick of a couple lighters and a light drizzle were the only sounds one could hear. We weren’t talking, resigned to the fact that our Saturday night was more than likely over. It was somewhere around one in the morning, and although that’s relatively early for most people my age, there was something about the night that just wasn’t quite right. We had been at three different bars over the course of five hours, and we struck out as a collective at all of them. It wasn’t for lack of trying, either. I had been dancing with a few girls and even bought a beer for one, but I was off my game that night. The dancing went well, but I failed to get any numbers out of it. The girl I bought a beer for ended up having a boyfriend. It just wasn’t my night. Until it was.
I flicked the remains of a cigarette I had bummed into the street, and started walking towards the train to get home. My phone started ringing. It was Bridgette, slurring her words and asking if I wanted to hang out. I let her know that I was on my way home, and forty minutes later I was naked in bed laughing with our heroine. Bridgette was an absolute dragon in the sack, and I fell asleep with a shit eating grin on my face.
The freshly minted 20-year-old ended up spending the night. We got up around 9:30, watched a few episodes of New Girl and then I walked her out of my apartment. As I kissed her goodbye and sent her on her way, she turned around before getting in her Uber. “I start my internship downtown in three weeks. I think we’re gonna have a good summer.” .
Image via John Naffziger