Vegas was uncertain. My ex-boyfriend Dan was going to be there. We exchanged texts and it seemed I had at least a sure thing with him.
But like most things with Dan nowadays, it quickly fell apart. We bickered, had a heated phone conversation, made up, pledged to at least try and have sex....but then we both made no effort. I concentrated on my drinking and he disappeared into a G-rated weekend with his parents. Oh well. I valued the extra hours of sleep I got the next morning and didn't even give him a second thought.
We all know the quirky little adage: "What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas" right?
Truer words were never spoken. Every time I go there, single or not, I come back with a new experience and stories I can't tell...not even here. I haven't been sworn to secrecy or anything (okay maybe I have), but I do uphold the Vegas code.
What I can say is that while I was dancing like a crazy lady at PURE, a so-so trendy nightclub on Las Vegas Boulevard, I met a really nice guy named Brandon.
He was Canadian, from 45 minutes outside of Toronto. He was in Vegas for his buddy's bachelor party. We danced a few songs and we laughed as our friends drunkenly made moves on the dancefloor with each other. Brandon had the prettiest eyes framed in nerdy glasses and the most adorable smile. He was 25 and had never been to Vegas before. I kept thinking he looked strangely familiar, like I had seen him somewhere. The thought was nagging me. Halfway through dancing (well, more like I was grinding my butt up against his crotch) to "All I Do Is Win" the light-bulb went off in my head. Brandon was the spitting image of the character Ruxin from The League. Oh God.....is that bad or good? (I really got to dial back all the basic cable I watch.) The song is over and I turn around. I gotta get this kid's number or something. Maybe we should hook up? God, he looks fresh to death with that dress shirt, unbuttoned at the top and I can see a gold necklace and a smidge of chest hair. Is that a Star of David or a cross? God, he's got a cute little butt in those slacks. I am drinking him with my eyes, devouring every detail.
He signals at me. He's gotta go. One of his buddy's is not feeling well.
"I'll be back" he yells, slightly cupping my ear. It's so loud in here. I feel my smile fading.
"Okay" I yell back and try to recuperate my smile. I know he's not coming back.
He doesn't hug me nor does he kiss me. He fist bumps me. And then he's gone.
For the rest of the weekend, I infinitely regretted not at least trying to kiss him. I felt unsettled. I felt haunted by my inability to seal the deal. I've done more with less! Am I losing my touch?
The need and desire to smash a guy carried over into the next night. I can't get into too much detail or else I break my Vegas vow....but me and one of my friends met a nice boy with quick green eyes named Mitch from Long Island, New York. Ohhhh, I am a sucker for that accent. He was drunk. We were drunk. He gave us a lap dance. We gave him dollar bills. He bought us drinks, we chugged them down. He asked us to dance, we sandwiched him in between us. He asked us to go back to his hotel room, we rewarded him with a threesome.
I will say this. I'm 0-2 in self-satisfaction. Mitch, next time don't drink all day and take your anti-depressant medication. Zoloft has the opposite effect of Viagra. Yet again, I drive home from Vegas with a sore jaw and a dirty feeling. But he was really cute though. Not as cute as Brandon, but he did the trick.
Cross another item off my sexual bucket list!
This trip to New York can't come soon enough. 23 days to go. I booked my room in Staten Island this afternoon. Terry and I discussed things to do in New Jersey and New York. It's all been very business and platonic, like how we always are. Jay, on the other hand, is dying to get at me. I do my best to give him monosyllabic answers or remain vague. It drives him crazy.
The Big Apple Sexodus....I can't wait!
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