Hot Date Becomes Hot Mess

It started on Valentine’s Day.

I know. Cliché as fuck, right?

Most single girls on Valentine’s Day eat their weight in chocolate and binge watch rom-com’s like The Notebook. However, that is not my idea of a good time. So let’s flashback to Valentine’s Day 2013.

I was in London, studying abroad for the semester. At this point I’d been in the city a little over a month. I had made friends and knew my way around the city fairly well. So when Valentine’s Day rolled around, I knew exactly where I wanted to go. O’Neill’s. The only way I can describe O’Neill’s is that, at best- it is a shit show. But I had not yet experienced it such as my flat mates had. So my friend Johanna and I, and her friend Lia decided that we were going to make Valentine’s Day our bitch.

Lia had met us at our house in Kilburn Park and greeted us with chocolate and wine. Because really, what is Valentine’s Day without chocolate? We got ready and my flat mates (and Lia) all ventured out for the evening.

The night did not begin at O’Neills. We went to a place called Strawberry Moon first, which was entirely too boring for us. Essentially we were looking to get wasted and hookup with beautiful British men. At this point in the night, we decided to head to O’Neill’s.

I wish I could tell you how much fun I had or how much money my bar tab was but the truth is… I don’t remember. I went from 0 to drunk real quick. I lost Johanna and Lia at one point. I met a British man named Alex who I then started hooking up with. He also paid for all of my drinks and eventually helped me find my friends. I found Johanna upstairs in a corner attached to an Italian man’s face. Lia was dancing with everyone because she is beautiful and everyone wanted to dance with her. We had all found “our guy.” Eventually it was time to go home. Alex came back with me, but Johanna and Lia exchanged numbers with their guys.

Alex left my flat VERY early the next morning, and that next day we laughed and tried to recall drunken memories from the previous night. Now, you may think this is where this story ends. However you are very much wrong.

Not thinking anything of it, Johanna’s guy had texted her later in the week and also found her on Facebook. He wanted nothing more than to see her again. Crazy right? Who would ever expect a hookup at a club abroad to turn into another date? Then again, if you knew Johanna, she IS a beautiful, blonde, bombshell from SoCal. So if I were an Italian man, I’d want to date her too. She wanted to see him again, but also did not want to put herself in a bad situation, after all she hardly knew this guy. So, because I am such a great friend (and because Antonio- her guy- had hot friends) I agreed to go on a date with them. The only requirement was that Antonio had to bring a hot friend for me as well. We made plans to go to a local pub on a Thursday night.

I sat through my dreaded three hour marketing class that Thursday night until 10pm. I quickly got changed at school and then met up with Johanna. We texted Antonio (Johanna’s guy) to try and find them. After some miscommunication, we eventually found them in the tube station. But Antonio didn’t just bring one friend…he brought three. Now again you’re probably thinking “Four beautiful Italian men, how lucky are these girls?” Again, WRONG. Four of them, and two of us. That’s a lot of fucking testosterone. Additionally we went to greet them and quickly discovered the three friends he brought BARELY spoke English!!! All I could think was “What the fuck did I just get myself into…”

We headed to the pub and got drinks. I wish I could say it was smooth sailing from there, but that would be the understatement of the year. It was like trying to communicate with brick walls. We all barely understood each other. I used Google Translator half of the “date” (PS shout out to that pub for having free Wi-Fi so that I could even use Google Translator.) On top of the language barrier we realized we barely had anything in common with them. I also found out one of them had a girlfriend back in Italy. It was just a mess. A hot mess. Literally a hot mess, after all they were easy on the eyes. Eventually we finished our drinks and headed home. We cracked up about how weird the date wbrewskisas the whole way home. Johanna and I must have sounded like little school girls giggling on the bus ride home.

From this date though I did learn a few VERY valuable lessons.

1) You will never fall in love in a bar.
2) You CAN in fact hookup with someone in a bar and be very unaware they barely speak English.
3) When all else fails, there is nothing a good drink can’t fix.


The Ritz Blitz

by Anonymous

Fresh in the midst of the holiday cheer, the day after Christmas I embarked on a trip to Montreal with my sister to just get free from the doldrums of our daily lives. This trip was amazing because it was a week prior to my 21st birthday, which meant that I was legal in Canada and would be legal in the U.S. once I arrived home. My sister is about 7 years older than me so our interests can often conflict and we spent a lot of time wandering the city on our own merit. Me being right in the middle of the college experience, headed straight to the bars and casino to spend some hard earned money from my most recent internship. It was on the 5th day of my journey in the frigid -33 degree weather, I decided to trek out and stop by a bar I was eyeing for a few days. There was nothing particularly special about it, but it looked like a laid back English-esque pub. It was late in the football season and there was a guy making bets on a few games, I struck up conversation with him for a bit and gave him my analysis on a few players and teams. In return the guy bought me a couple coke and rums, which was unnecessary but greatly appreciated.

I was chatting with the locals of Montreal for a couple hours just enjoying the random company and listening to some good stories, when little did I know that a great story of my own would soon be written. Seven drinks deep, I began to be a little bit more relaxed in the foreign setting, and I started talking to the bartender hoping to maybe befriend him for a free drink. Turns out the guy had a couple family members that were from Jersey, and we bonded over taylor ham and bagels. I probably got more excited than I should have, but my attention was quickly redirected as a beautiful brunette walked by had caught my eye. Approximately 5’ 6”, long dark brown hair that had the perfect sheen, a slender taught core, a robust perky chest, and quite possibly the most perfectly shaped ass one could conceive. The funny part is, I’m not a terribly judgmental person but when a perfect 10 walks your way you take notice. I’m not that super confident cocky guy you see at the bar, but instead I’m the guy who wishes that I could be that way. To this day, I have no idea why she walked up to me and introduced herself to me, but I guarantee you I was not fighting it. She looked me in the eyes with the cutest smile, and said “Hey, you look like you’re having a good time. I’m Layla, and this is my friend Christina.” I must have looked dumbfounded, as I offered them a seat next to me they sat on either side of me. At this point I was a bit confused, a bit drunk, and VERY interested as to how this would play out.

The next part of this story, is basically why most of my friends don’t know this event ever occurred. They both swiveled their chairs towards me, and Layla without skipping a beat said “So, we think you’re kind of cute. We want to make a bet with you, if you can make us both cum I’ll take care of your tab.” Words cannot describe what was going on in my head, my jaw must’ve dropped, and as if it were actually an instinctual response I said, “I don’t lose bets.” I reflect upon that moment as my most alpha point in my life. Layla took my hand dropped $100 on the bar for a $40 tab, and I began to wonder what is going on. In my head I begin thinking, “Well a prostitute wouldn’t pay for my drinks, maybe I’m just very lucky today?” I decided to roll with it for better or for worse. She takes me to a Ritz-Carlton, as we enter a King’s Suite, this place is beautiful and huge littered with champagne and remnants of some cocaine. “These girls know how to party”, was my first thought but was this actually happening? To put it simply, yes. Yes, I had a threesome with an incredibly beautiful brunette and her blonde friend who was pretty, but honestly? Didn’t come close to what this girl Layla had to offer. As I won the bet, and it was rounding close to 6am I realized I had to leave somehow and get back before my sister started wondering what in god’s name I was doing all night. Christina was on her cellphone texting, Layla was in the shower, and I grabbed the last sip of champagne and walked out drunk. Wandered back to my hotel, to find my sister was still asleep, and passed out. I woke up the next day to realize that the night before actually happened, I had sex with two beautiful and wealthy girls that just wanted to get it. It is still a story that I find to be an anomaly. Forever the Ritz-Blitz will live in my memory.

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