My name is Fernando Rousseau and I am happy to be writing for the scallywag team. I live a life of accidental debauchery, when usually I just like to be left alone, but the more I try to be left alone the more debauchery finds itself in my life. My friends and family think I need to meet a nice girl. My cousin is always trying to get me to go to church. Yesterday my cousin was trying to trick me into going to midnight mass for the second year in a row. Last year he rolled a bunch of joints and promised me there would be some classy single women all over the place to say, ‘peace be with you’ too. There wasn’t. It was all families. And anyways, I was way too high.
Soon as we walked in, before we even had a chance to grab a seat or take off our coats, a old man approached us and asked us if we would be ushers. That was just a dandy conversation, not embarrassing at all:
Me: (high as fuck) Ummmmm ushers?
Cousin: (high as fuck) Hell ya we can be some ushers!
Me: He doesn’t mean hell ya–he means heck ya.
Old man: Well, we sure would appreciate it.
Me: (panicking) Wait, wait–so what would we have to do?
The old man tells us the details, but while he’s talking, I get distracted by a statue of Jesus and space out. After he is done, the only things I recall are something about getting up after a certain psalm and collecting money. My cousin looks like he spaced out to, because the old man is looking at him for some sort of confirmation, but my cousin has a glassy blank look on face. After a moment he snaps with it.
Cousin: Can we have a minute to think this over?
The old man has a look of surprise on his face. I jump in.
Me: No, no— we’ll do it. Don’t you worry about it.
Old man: Well we sure do appreciate it.
I spent the rest of the service highly alert for any indication of what I was supposed to be doing, and when the time I came, I did my duty diligently, said my ‘peace be with you’s’ and have not been back since.
Now he wants me to go again this year. He has a handful of joints, and is telling my how the new choir kicks ass. I’m not seduced in the least bit. I already have plans to meet a friend at a bar right up the street. We’re going to wear ugly Christmas sweaters, like Nicholas does (he goes out all the time like this):
have drink or two, and be jolly. Ten jack and cokes later my friend is flaying his body language all over the place
“Will you quit doing that please?”
“Every time you check out a girl you move your whole entire body. You can just move your eyes you know. You’re being way too obvious.”
“Maybe I want to be obvious. I want them to know I’m open for business…yes!”
“Dude, you look like this.” I do a mock of him, only I accidentally make eye contact with a girl standing at the bar.
“Nice ugly sweater.” She says.
“Actually, this is my normal sweater. I don’t think its very polite telling people that their sweater it ugly.” I say with sarcasm. She doesn’t get it though.
“Isn’t it a ugly sweater? You know how people wear those out this time of year?”
“Duh!” I say with a tinge of annoyance. Then for some reason I want to defend myself getting caught fake checking her out, so I guiltily say without being prompted, “I think what happened is, that you were checking out my sweater, at the same time as I was checking out your rock necklace.”
She immediately bounces, happily, into my personal bubble. She leans in so I can exam the rock necklace.
“They’re not anal beads.” She says with a straight face.
“I can see that.”
“I mean– some people think they’re anal beads.”
“I can see how they might confuse some people.” I reply, not knowing what else to say.
I take a big gulp of my drink and look away. She walks back to the bar, grabs the drinks she ordered, and smiles as she walks away.
I look at my friend, “What the fuck was that?”
He’s not paying much attention. He’s staring wantonly at a silver haired lady walking towards us. As she gets within conversation vicinity I see fireworks explode. She stops and stares at my friend staring at her. They chit chat for a minute and he introduces himself, I do also to be polite.
“That’s my sons name.”
“Well done, good choice.”
“I love your sweaters, very festive.”
“Well, my friend here likes to dress like a grandma, to attract a grandma.”
“Hey! Shows over here! Ignore him!” He says loudly and I leave them too it, wondering what I will find in the bottom of my glass.
Two drinks later, ‘anal bead’ girl is standing right by me, ordering another drink. I try to think of something to say, but cant even think of anything good, so I stupidly say, “So all ready for Christmas?”
“No, this the worst Christmas ever. I want to be around my family and this is going to be the second year in a row I wont be home.”
“Where are you from?”
“Pittsburgh, I was out here visiting my boyfriend, but that didn’t go well. So now I’m stuck here by myself. That’s why I’m all dressed up.”
“Hey its not soooooo bad! It looks like you and your friends over there are having fun, and its all Christmacy and shit in here… look at all the decorations…oooohhhhhhh and listen–they’re even playing some snoop dogg right now– Yayyyyyyy!”
“My friends are lame and there not even really my friends. Do you want a Jameson?”
“Why not? It’s JC‘s birthday! Lets get wasted.”
“You shouldn’t make fun of Jesus.”
“I would never. He’s just as real as Santa Claus.”
“Are you like a Obama liberal?”
“You don’t want to talk politics with me, I can get vicious.”
“You just want to one up me. Don’t try to play that game.”
“Nooo I’m being nice. I’m wearing kitten gloves right now..meow meow.”
“Hah. So what do you do for fun here.”
“I spend most of my time in hipster dance battles, I do some karate, be one with the one, tantric energy, hipppy drum circles, quantum mechanics. That sort of thing.”
“You’re weird. I can tell. Be normal! Normal is sexy.” She says drunkenly.
“Whatever you say. So what do you do in Pittsburgh? I’ve heard sooooo many great things about that city.” I say sarcastically.
“I go to school there. I’m a cheerleader.”
“A cheerleader eh? That is the third most thing girls lie about, with being a gogo dancer # 2 and a modeling #1. But I don’t mind girls lying just to impress me.”
“You look like you smell.”
“Yes–like how a man should smell. No colognes or soaps.”
“I wouldn’t be against you smelling me right now.”
She breathes me in. And now her eyes are focused and we have each others attention.
“I can prove I’m a cheerleader.”
“I believe you. Its irrelevant anyways.”
“What’s your number?”
“I’ll send you a picture.”
“Ahh very nice. Looks like you have great team chemistry. Is Pitt in a bowl game this year? “
“Yes, the Compass Bowl, do you like football?”
“Lets put it this way–if you were DTF and we were fucking I could simultaneously hold a conversation about football.” (I hate when I sound like a caveman, but it slipped out, and to be truthful I deplore talking about football).
“I have some more pictures if you wanna see them. They’re a lil more revealing though.”
“Yes, I really don’t care right now.”
“Ahhh there’s your vag. very nice…and ooh another one… it looks like you and your girlfriend are very comfortable with each other.”
“I’m not DTF though, just so you know.”
“Neither am I.”
“I don’t have a gag reflex.”
“I could show you if you want.” I look at her very curiously. She continues, “I want too. I really don’t give a fuck right now. Just two rules. Don’t try to fuck me and don’t cum in my mouth. This is really for me. Just consider it your lucky day.”
A instant of panic washes over me. I want to say no. So badly, I want to be able to say no. I am trying to get away from this sort of thing– this sexual randomness of being some sort of goddamn gigolo revenge sex toy. I want to say, ‘I’m flattered, I really am, but I have a girl and I love her with everything I have and she loves me with everything she says,’ but I don’t have that, not even close.
My brain and dick are having an argument. My brain is trying to figure out if this would be a, high-art or low-art, move, and if I really am in any position to be turning down blow jobs from attractive woman. While my brain is having this debate, my dick is kicking my brains ass. I close my eyes shut, and rub my head with my hands, I give a painful grunt and say, “Ok. I actually live pretty close to here. Its not too far of a walk.”
She looks annoyed. “Seriously? You want me to walk in the cold? I’m not going anywhere. I meant here.”
Fuck fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkit. When the going gets weird the weird turn pro. I take control of the situation. I get up, grab her hand, lead her into the ladies room. Blast open the stall, lock it. I stand up while she unzips my pants and performs justice.
I do my best Michael Cera and starts singing over and over again:
these eyes, are crying
These eyes have seen a lot of love but they’ll never see another one like I had with you
I don’t regret it at all. I walk out drunk and happy and telling everyone it’s a Charlie Brown Christmas miracle.