if its wrong, i dont wanna be right
As common as it is for older men to date younger women, anytime someone even a day older goes for some hotter, younger male tail, its a problem. This is why I’m struggling to keep my latest conquest under wraps. Don’t worry, he’s legal (but just barely–he turned 18 three weeks ago) but there is one major problem: he is currently still a high school student.
I met M through my cousin, who is his close friend. M is cute, funny, adorable–all the things I normally look for in a future fuck. The only problem is that while I’m trying to jump start my career with yet another internship, this bitch is still planning his prom weekend. What to do?
M has proved to me that he’s definitely experienced WAY beyond his years on our little date last night. We went bowling (which meant that he mostly bowled; I mostly drank beer). On the drive home (okay, he at least has a license!) he leaned in for a kiss with the confidence of someone much older. Suddenly, I was in the middle of a hot makeout sesh with someone that just weeks before I could have gotten arrested for hooking up with. He KNEW what he was doing. Seems like the Northeast’s public school systems are doing something right. 
fleet week should be a national holiday
Honestly, ladies. What better time of the year is there for New York girls than Fleet Week? Hot, cute, polite sailors are in town for a solid week ready to charm with their “Yes, ma’am”s, make out with you and then head off into the sunset and leave you with only good memories before they ruin a perfectly sweet, brief relationship.
I, myself, had never experienced a Fleet Week such as this one. I had never taken full advantage of all that this wonderful event had to offer until last Wednesday, when fortunately I was thrown full throttle into the joys of being a military girlfriend…if only for a few nights. I was bartending at my sometimes job (I like the tips and the free booze) when my manager warned me that it would be a busy night. Girls were drinking for free and Navy boys would surely be trickling in any moment now.
I was in no way prepared for what would occur next. Suddenly, the bar was swarmed with dozens of adorable midwestern young guys with adorable accents in crisp white uniforms. And they’d be gone in a week! TRUE LOVE. It was in my shelling out Long Island Ice Teas during the night that I met Jake, a super cute 19 year old from Ohio who was cute, shy and my new target for the night. I couldn’t abandon my post behind the bar to flirt like a girl really should, but I think I made it clear (by ignoring all the other customers) that I was really into him.
He asked for my number, so I wrote it on a napkin (how 1954!) and sent him on his way so he wouldn’t miss curfew. The next morning, slightly hungover and still smelling like a bar room floor, I was actually shocked to see that Jake had texted me wishing me a lovely morning and asking if “I don’t mind me textin’ ya”. No, I did not mind at all. Throughout the day we exchanged flirty text messages and I found out that he was leaving the following day bright and early. I had to beat the clock! I couldn’t let the poor boy go back out on duty without showing him just how wonderful New York could be. It was my patriotic duty.
I met up with Jake wearing espadrilles and a dress, trying my best to do an impression of a WW2 army wife. Jake and I spent the night in one of the best bar crawls in history, drinking martinis (me), whiskey (him) and making out as if he was going off to war (both of us, because he actually was). Finally, after a few hours of this, we realized that Jake’s curfew was creeping up on us. I walked him way back to the west side, and watched him walk of into the darkness, just like a good military girlfriend is supposed to. And I’ll be waiting for Jake the next time he drops in, ready to show him a good time. I just can’t promise that I won’t have kissed a few sailors and negotiated a few peace treaties with other entities of my own in the mean time.
faux pas?
So, there is one code in girl world that one must absolutely, positively, never ever break. Of course, last Tuesday (it was finals week, for God’s sake!) I made that cardinal error–I hooked up with one of my best friend’s former hookups.
I know, I know. It was a huge mistake, but let me explain the circumstances of how a girl can lose all willpower and go against girl code.
Let me just preface this by saying: it had been a horrific day. I had learned that my ex-boyfriend was dating someone new via Facebook (gotta love technology!) and had just seen Evan (yes, the object of my affection the night I almost decided to roofie a boy) with his brank spanking new and may i add UGLY girlfriend. I was not in good spirits. All this taken into account, I decided to bring a bottle of warm, cheap white zinfandel with me to my job on the school paper and down it as I completed some of my end of the semester duties.
Drunk off a bottle of cheap ass wine, I stumbled my way back to my friend Mark’s apartment where Brandon, my roommate’s Sadie’s former fling, lives, too. They’d only hooked up once or twice, but he’s her go-to guy whenever she’s drunk and needing to text someone for some flirtation.
I’d inadverantly stumbled into a pseudo-party. Twenty of my closest acquaintances were at Mark’s smoking, drinking and grinding to the most random collection of music. An average Tuesday when you’re a sophomore in a Manhattan university. Suddenly, Evan appeared out of nowhere (he happens to be good friends with Mark, too) to smoke some chronic and toss back a few beers. Suddenly, I couldn’t take it anymore. Here, in a city of 8 million people, the very boy I was trying to avoid and drown out with cheap alcohol was right in front of my face.
It was gross, but I needed to feel validated by a guy. Evan had rejected me for some frumpy blonde who carried her belongings around in a weird potato sack. I needed a man to make me feel like a hot piece again. Now, the only available males in the apartment happened to be Mark and Brandon. Mark, a flaming homosexual wasn’t going to solve my problem. I zeroed in on Brandon.
We kept making eyes at each other all night (probably due to the copious amounts of Il Bastardo consumed). Within minutes, we were pushing past Evan to get to Brandon’s bedroom. Suddenly, I realized that I was ripping off the clothes of the man that just the night before I had been encouraging Sadie to rekindle things with. FUCK. What was I doing??????? I was having sex is what I was doing. Fun, drunk, sloppy, validation sex.
OH MY GOD. I had just FUCKED Sadie’s go-to guy. What the hell kinda person was I???? Minutes after Brandon fell asleep, I threw my clothes back on and made my way back to my apartment. Stumbling back into my bedroom, I ran into Sadie in the living room.
“How was your night?” she asked, oblivious to who had been on top of me just half an hour before.
“Uhh, fine,” I answered.
The next morning, I woke up with a MEAN ass headache and a wave of guilt that has completely consumed my mind the past few days. What the hell should I do? Have I finally crossed the Smut line?
