Saturday night was amazing.
No, it wasn’t just any old success. Success is an understatement. It was an unbelievably, ridiculously amazing smash.
As you know, I was wary about this night. The closer I got to their swinging bachelor pad the more uneasy my stomach began to feel. Upon texting Twin that I had arrived I also texted ChiChi. The text I sent her started with “I’m freaking.”
Obviously, not the best start to a long evening.
Some of my nerves were relieved once I got inside and was greeted with a comfortingly warm hug and a genuine smile from X-Man. I always knew I liked that man.
From there the festivities started.
First on the agenda, some pong on the table Twin painted.
Considering the success I’ve experienced at pong tables recently we decided that we could totally take Blue and Mr. Milly. We were wrong.
After people had their fill of pong someone bonged a beer and all the guests headed down to the water.
Oh, did I not mention that Mr. Milly and X-Man live on a lake, with water, a dock and a boat steps from their porch?
Well, they do. So everyone donned their skimpy suits and grabbed some floats for some fun in the sun. And this is where some of the annoying drama started with Little Girl*.
The word on the street is that her and Blue were doing it and maybe possibly kind of dating. He hadn’t been paying attention to her all day, so of course she decided to have a few drinks and loudly proclaim that she was going to swim across the lake (not a ridiculously far distance, but populated by rushing crafts) without a life jacket.
Everyone protested (thus giving her the attention she wanted), but she did it anyway. Strike 1.
Once the sun got to be too much (and everyone’s cups got too dry) we returned to the house for more ponging and bonging.
At some point we realized one of the guests (who’s name I never really knew) was missing. He was found passed out on the floor of the bathroom. It was only about 6:30.
No need to worry, though. We woke him up, gave me a few bottles of water and he finished his nap in a bed upstairs.
While he was napping Little Girl was crying in another spare bedroom. Blue was intermittently comforting her. And they may or may not have had sex. Strike 2.
At some point in the night Mr. Milly and X-Man decided that if we were going to finish the keg by the end of the night we needed to start taking drastic measures. And so the keg stands begun.
First, X-Man took his turn.
He lasted 21 seconds.
Next, after a little convincing, Blue decided he needed a go.
He lasted 6 seconds.
Then, after the birthday boys had their turns, Mr. Milly (who was manning the pump) turned to the person closest to him. That person just happened to be me.
So up I went.
And 10 or 11 seconds later (once I was sure I had beat Blue) I came down. Victorious.
The rest of the night passed uneventfully. We drank. We mingled. We found a Sharpie and everyone proceeded to get tat tat tatted up.
At some point I got a sudden, splitting headache. So I chugged a bottle of water, took an Advil and asked X-Man if I could pass out on his bed for half an hour. He, of course because he’s wonderful like that, said yes.
I thought I set an alarm. I’m pretty sure I set an alarm. But somehow, I woke up at 10am, still in X-Man’s bed, with a half eaten Larabar next to me.
Honestly, I probably shouldn’t have freaked out so much. Quite a bit of time has passed since all the shitty shenanigans of last summer went down. All the people that were involved (including myself) are mature and fully capable of letting bygones be bygones. And we did.
By the time I said g’bye X-Man wasn’t the only person to give me a hug. I got not only a hug, but also an invitation back from Mr. Milly. Blue, of course, didn’t acknowledge me much, but that’s always been his nature so I’m not too terribly surprised. He was too busy babysitting Little Girl, anyway.
*Little Girl- a ridiculously annoying and immature 16 year old girl. She’s chock full-o-mental problems, one of which is her willingness to cause herself harm (or pretend to) or flaunt her issues in order to get attention.