Dating and other bad habits.

“I want to make out with that one,” clicked my Scarlett Johansson look-alike partner in crime.

Looking across the bar at her decided prey, I could see exactly why he was her mark.  He was nerd hot and precisely the kind of boy you want to smooch when you’ve been drinking–cute and slightly lost looking.

And so I had two missions that night: get ScarJoII a snogging playmate and defeat the photobooth.

It had been explained to me that Jesus himself ran the photobooth.  Plenty of people had gotten naked, been inappropriate, and had even held haphazard sexual relations in there.  Yet the photobooth had never captured a single sordid image.  The theory among all the bar patrons was that an agent of God–presumably Jesus–looked after the booth.

Inevitably the ink would smear or the flash would malfunction, blocking only only the graphic parts of the pictures in question.  Newly dressed patrons would wait for their photos to print, expecting to see nudity, only to find, inexplicably, that an arm or hat or section of hair magically covered their exhibitionism.

In got into the booth that night. I lifted my top. The first three frames were expected–various states of undress. But there, on the fourth frame, was photobooth gold.  In the bottom corner, almost out of frame, was one tiny little pinkish-brown nipple.

After that, the rest was easy.

Mr. Nerd Hot joined our table. We fed ourselves with drinks. And with ScarJoII frisking him on one side and me flanking the other, he was the luckiest SOB in the bar.  It was decided (by a simple look between us girls) that one of us needed to make out with him. Didn’t matter whom. And so. we showered him with attention, talking too close, staring too long, touching too much.  Until it was time to go.

And when we decided to bring him with us it was because each of us had a different motivation.  ScarJoII was simply thinking after party–more drinking, more flirting, and some pie-eating. (Actual pie, not a euphemism).  I was thinking somebody was going to put their tongue in his mouth (maybe me, maybe her, didn’t matter).  He was thinking threesome–and who can blame him?

But it never happened.  There was a hum in the air that sounded “what next?” and the room began to smell stale with the faint odor of bad ideas.

I remember getting a moment alone with ScarJoII and saying, “You do understand what’s happening here?  He wants to have sex…with both of us.”  At least I think that’s what I said. Let’s face it, this was years ago and my sexy brain isn’t what it used to be.

I’m told that as she stared at me wide-eyed, realization setting in, I uttered something to the effect of, “If I was going to sleep with one of my friends it’d probably be you.”  Which honestly, does kind of sound like the kind of thing I might say in a situation like this.

I may have defeated Jesus and his hold over the photobooth, but it was time to quit while I was ahead.  There would be no threesome.

But somewhere out there is a film strip and if you look in the bottom corner, almost out of the frame…

Tags: almost threesome, dating, hot guy make out, Jesus, leah charney, nerd hot, other bad habits, photobooth, pie

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