Hello Me, Meet The Real Me

July 2008:
There are times when life is all warm and fuzzy, and you’re on cloud nine, and all that fuzzy happy crap. Then there are times when stress just gets the better of you. It happens to everyone. Life is a roller coaster and you’re just on for the ride. You can either be a victim or take what life has to offer and make the best of it, or something like that. Sometimes even the best laid plans turn into sheer bullshit right in your face.

There was a week in July 2008 where I just wasn’t having a good week and to top things off I had split days off during that week. One was during midweek and one was on a Saturday. I was determined to have fun that Saturday night. After all it was my only weekend day off that week. Problem being, most of my closest friends were already busy. Now usually that wouldn’t stop me from going out and finding my own good time but I just felt like I wanted some friends with me. Which only ended up leading to there being witnesses to my humiliation.

Tone is a friend of mine that I don’t see often. We don’t hang out often but I still consider him a close friend. He came out with a chick he was dating at the time, and her friend, who I have to admit was a cutie. So was set a night of epic proportions, or epic idiocy, you decide. I wanted to drink until I couldn’t remember my name. Words have a way of haunting you when you least expect it. I have never forgotten those words.

So we met up in the East Village, my neighborhood. Me, Tone, Tone’s G/F, and Tone’s G/F’s friend. They’re unimportant so I’m not giving them names.

GF: “Marco doesn’t she look nice?”

Me: “No that outfit is horrible. You should take it off.”

Tone: “Smooth bro, smooth.”

Friend: “At least get me dinner before you ask me to strip for you.”

Me: “Nah, I don’t do that. Let’s see if you impress me first. Then maybe I’ll consider doing something nice for you.”

So we walked over to some bar and me and Tone had a few rounds of Jäger Bombs with beer backs when we got there. The girls had some fruity shit. I wasn’t really paying attention. They brought the friend for me but I honestly just ignored her all night. She was cute, and I probably would have brought her home with me but I wouldn’t put in any extra effort. She didn’t do anything to really make herself stand out to me. Her personality was kind of flat. Me and Tone went to the bar and ordered four shots of tequila, 2 for each of us.

Tone: “So where’s your stable?”

Me: “What are you talking about?”

Tone: “Whenever we hang out you normally have a stable of thoroughbreds with you.”

I just laugh at this.

Tone: “What? Am I wrong? You usually have the chicks that all the other guys want.”

Me: “So I felt like a break tonight, I’m allowed right?”

Tone: “Ah, I see. This again.”

We take our first shots and Tone pays for our drinks.

Me: “What exactly do you mean by ‘This again?’”

Tone: “You get a chick, get what you want then move on to the next. And leave the chick wondering what she did to make you leave. This is why you’ve had girls stalk you before. Because this is what you do.”

Me: “I’m not THAT bad, be serious now.”

Tone: “Yes you are. My chick is scared of me and you hanging out together.”

Me: “Well than I guess she doesn’t know that I’m selfish. I don’t share.”

We take the other two shots.

Tone: “Bro, I’ve gotten into more trouble with you than any other one of my friends.”

Me: “You know what? I’m not done, let’s get some more shots. Any cute chicks around that we can do belly shots off of.”

Tone: “And my point has been proven.”

I look around the bar for a bit but I don’t find anyone that really interests me. So we do a couple of more shots each and than I call the girls over.

GF: “I thought you guys forgot about us.”

Friend: “Yea, what’s up with that?”

Me: “Man talk Hun, vaginas not allowed.”

GF: “Asshole!”

Tone: “How could I ever forget about you babe?”

They start kissing and I start making believe I’m throwing up.

Me: “Man talk aside, we want to do some body shots, and we couldn’t find any cuter chicks in here yet.”

The Friend hits me on the shoulder laughing. At this point I thought maybe she wasn’t a total loss, after all she was smart enough to tell that even though it was shrouded in a joke, I wanted to include her in some flirtatious fun.

Friend: “You are an asshole.”

Me: “Whatever, are you girls down or are you going to be prudes and sip on your fruity drinks all night?”

Friend: “Hey! I’m not a prude!”

Me: “Prove it!”

At this point I slapped the bar a couple of times and pointed at her to get up on it. I looked around and saw both bartenders and a few of the patrons standing by and watching. I took this as a sign of my awesomeness and continued.

Me: “Quit being a prude and get up on that bar!”

Tone is staring at me in astonishment. His girlfriend is standing beside him shaking her head. I look over at her.

Me: “Both of you! Tone you do shots off of your chick and I’ll do her friend.”

Friend: “You’ll do me!?”

Me: “Yea you heard me. Don’t act like you don’t want it get up on the bar, both of you.”

After a little hesitation they both get on the bar and lay down. The bartender pours tequila in their belly buttons, salt on their necks, and limes in their mouths. Me and Tone look at each other and do the guy thing, fist bumps. I slurp the tequila out of the Friend’s belly buttons, lick the salt off of her neck, but I took my time with it, and made sure I turned her on as much as I could. When I went for the lime she “accidentally” dropped it and we ended up kissing. Score one for the bad guy.

We ended up doing a few more body shots. Each one with an increasing level of intimacy. On the last one I told the bartender “Skip the lime, I’m just going straight in this time.” What I did to her neck on that bar I usually save for private. Then we made out all while she was on the bar. The bartender got fed up and threatened to call the bouncer. His left boob was as big as my head, and I really didn’t want to get into a fight at that point of drunkenness so I carried her off the bar and to a booth in the back.

Between heated make out sessions with our respective females me and Tone kept on hitting the liquor. It’s like we were trying to out do each other. That night the liquor snuck up on me. I felt fine, but I guess ten to fifteen shots, and various random drinks will catch up to you eventually. Me and Tone were completely obliterated, sharing old stories. At one point I stopped the conversation for a second.

Me: “Tone dude, hold on, I have to call my friend. He has hilarious stories! Everyone loves them.”

Tone: “Dude, you usually have the funniest stories I know. You’re telling me there’s someone worse? No fucking way! Call him!”

I dial my phone and put it to my ear. To my frustration it goes straight to voicemail.

Tone: “He’s probably asleep, it’s almost three in the morning.”

Me: “No dude, he works overnight.”

Tone: “Oh ok, a co-worker of yours.”

Me: “Yea.”

I try calling a couple more times and end up leaving a voicemail.

Me: “Yo Marco, you have to call me back, I’m out with some cool people you have to meet, and there’s cute chicks everywhere. Ok call me back.”

Tone and the girls look at me with this look of astonishment.

Friend: “I thought you were Marco.”

Me: “Don’t be silly. He’s way more awesome.”

I try calling again.

Me: “Yo Marco, stop being a bitch and call me back.”

Tone: “Oh my god this is too weird.”

Me: “What is?”

Tone: “You’re calling yourself man!”

Me: “What!? Don’t be stupid!”

The girls look on in udder shock and sheer terror. I only realize this now looking back on it. It seems completely incomprehensible to me now how I ca still remember everything, even though I was so sloshed I didn’t even know who I was. Let’s think about this shall we? I literally drank until I couldn’t remember my name, but yet somehow as if through Devine intervention, I still remember everything. I tried to unsuccessfully call myself a few more times until the girls got fed up and left. Tone promised he’d call his girlfriend later that night. Somehow, even in his drunken stupor, Tone was still the voice of reason in this schizophrenic mindfuck. I called again.

Me: “Yo Marco, if you miss out tonight you’re never going to forgive yourself.”

He was right, excuse me, I meant I was right. I never forgave myself. Tone said that it was like watching a car accident. He didn’t want to see it, but he just couldn’t look away. As I was frantically trying to reach myself, Tone started reciting lines from the Megadeth song “Sweating Bullets.”

Tone: “Hello me, meet the real me.”

I try calling again.

Tone: “Hello me, it’s me again.”

I try calling again.

Tone: “Well me it’s nice talking to myself, a credit to dementia.”

I try calling again and Tone stops me.

Tone: “Dude, he’s asleep and the bar is closing, let’s leave.”

I took another shot before we left and Tone eventually got me home. It’s not that I was falling over or couldn’t walk, I have yet to experience that in my life. It’s just that I wanted to stop everywhere. But I got home, and completely passed out the second I got to my bed. The next afternoon I woke up and saw a message lying next to me on my bed.

“Dude, check your voicemail. I wish I could be there to see the look on your face when you do.

-Tone”

I checked my voicemail, and I wish I could have seen the look on my face when I got all those messages. cross one off the bucket list; “Drink until I can’t remember my name.”

Please feel free to leave comments or thoughts. All comments and thoughts are at risk of being verbally assaulted.