On my very last night of college I was lucky enough to have sex with this redhead named Sarah -- and it’s hard for me to describe Sarah because I wouldn’t say she was ugly but if I had to describe her, I’d say she looked like Rocky Dennis, the deformed high school genius played by Eric Stoltz in the movie Mask:
Either way, it was bitter-sweet because anytime I can get laid is awesome -- but it sucked because, in addition to hooking up with a girl that looked like a deformed guy, while having sex with her, I triggered a recurring back injury which was originally caused when some asshole jumped off a balcony onto my back at a Third Eye Blind/Eve 6 concert. But more importantly, it sucked because while I was lying on my bed in back pain, with a chick I barely knew, I overheard -- and passed on an opportunity to get drunk with my college roommates for the last time at the house we shared for two years.
Actually, you know what -- I take that back. The Rocky Dennis thing sucked way more than not getting drunk with my roommates.
Anyway, after graduating from Syracuse University in May 2000, I spent the Summer working at a Pepsi plant saving up money before moving to Los Angeles in January 2001. And in that time, the only other time I got laid was when an extra special lady friend -- and fellow Syracuse alum drove up from New Hampshire to Maine for an extra special visit.
But after that, I didn’t get laid for a long, looooooooooong time. In fact, I went for almost a year without having sex.
I blame part of it on the fact that I had zero money -- which makes it hard to impress 99.9% of the women in Los Angeles. The rest I blame on the fact that I lived on someone else’s couch for my first nine months in Hollywood -- and it’s hard to bring a lady back to your place when the only privacy you have is a sleeping bag.
Fortunately, I soon got a job at NBC and was able to afford my own bedroom. After that my self esteem was a little better and I had enough money left over after paying rent to finally hit the Hollywood bar scene.
But this story isn't about the first time I got laid -- it's about the first time I almost got laid...
I remember the first time I almost got laid in Los Angeles very clearly because it started when I watched the movie Requiem For a Dream with my old writing
partner -- a shark-like eating machine I like to call Augustus Gloop:
But don’t let that picture fool you. My old writing partner was actually a tall, handsome, athletic guy who didn’t have the same problems getting laid that I did. Because of that, he always went out of his way to be a good wingman -- even at the expense of allowing me to introduce him to dumb women as the actor who played Clark Kent on Smallville:
Anyway, me and Augustus both felt filthy after watching Requiem For a Dream -- especially after the part where Jennifer Connolly has double-sided-dildo-anal-sex with a hooker for the purposes of scoring heroin.
To make ourselves feel better, we went to Cat & Fiddle -- a warm and friendly British pub located on Sunset Boulevard.
After a couple pints and a few games of darts, Augustus and I met a couple Israeli Girls who were traveling across the United States after completing their country’s mandatory army service requirement:
The two Israeli Girls sat at our table and had a few drinks with us. Augustus and I played the part of charming goofballs and were easily making them laugh. At one point, one of the Israeli Girls looked at us and said, “So we are spending night with you two tonight? No?”
Although Augustus probably already had a late night booty call lined up, he wanted to hook up with Israeli Girls more than I did, and we immediately responded in combined desperation, “um, yes. Of course. Okay, yup, you bet. Absolutely. Yes please.”
And with that one simple negotiation, I was finally going to end my sexual drought -- that is until some Douche Bag walked up to our table, looked at the Israeli Girls, and said, “we’re getting ready to leave now. Are you coming or not?”
The Israeli Girls seemed uncomfortable and looked away. The Douche Bag repeated himself, “I said we’re leaving now. Are you coming or not??”
The Douche Bag waited a beat as the Israeli Girls ignored him. He said, “We’re leaving now”, one last time and finally walked away.
The Israeli Girls then explained to us that they stayed with the Douche Bag the night before and they needed to get their suitcases from his car. As soon as they left, Augustus and I high-fived each other and started doing the dance of joy like Larry and Balki used to do on Perfect Strangers.
We then started fighting over who was gonna hook up with which Israeli Girl -- and Augustus, who himself is Jewish, surmised that they both probably had big bushes since they were from Israel.
And so we sat there in our booth and waited… and waited… and waited…
And the clock went from 12:00 to 1:00 to 2:00, and before we knew it, it was closing time. At that point Augustus was starting to realize that the Israeli Girls might not pan out. I refused to believe him and knew in my heart that the Israeli Girls would return -- and they did come back -- but only to inform us that they were spending the night with the Douche Bag again.
At that point I was so angry that I crushed a pint glass in my hand and screamed at the top of my lungs, “NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!”
The Israeli Girls sensed that I was upset and said, “Maybe we can spend night tomorrow night? No??”
We exchanged our numbers and all that bullshit, but for the
record, the next night never happened. But that’s okay -- it didn’t matter
because I went back to my apartment that night and jerked off to the scene in
Requiem For a Dream where Jennifer Connolly has double-sided-dildo-anal-sex
with a hooker for the purposes of scoring heroin: