Today we looked at the shocking news that men sometimes like it with dirty girls. This got all you commenters hot and bothered, of course, and inspired one reader to share a personal story from his sexual past.
Went for the bar-bathroom-sex-with-random-dirty-girl once, in a Midtown dive. After a night of meeting cute over the jukebox, Jameson shots and flashing passing buses as we grabbed smokes outside, DirtyBlonde and I adjourned to the bathroom somewhere around 2 am to check her makeup, both furiously sweating booze and wobbling. We may or may not have done a line. Then we got friendlier.
About twenty or twenty-five minutes after we stumbled out of the bathroom, a hulking black man in a dark dress shirt and slacks came in. He spoke briefly to the bartender, then, spying us near the other end of the bar, walked right over to her, and started talking to her. Puffing up my chest a little, I asked who he was. He gave me a look that felt like a giant hand grabbing my nuts and squeezing, flashed me some ID, and growled, "Security."
Security, that is, for the inpatient rehab she had just skipped out on earlier that night. I got tested two days later.
Sometimes, it's better just to want things.