a required taste for the pretentious as all get out





groping grooms and bootylicious brides
August 10, 2003, 8:39 pm

My last week of freedom has been interesting, to say the least. I scuttled downyoshunhon (translation for you non-Maryland types: I went to the beach) from Thursday to Friday night to spend some time with the Shore Boys and the wives. I am now sunburnt all to hell (only my chest, nothing else). It's hellapurple.

A fun time was had by all except for a small detail that I have neglected to mention to any of my boyz or their wives. They have a friend named J_, who is married and who I had met on one previous occasion. While the rest of the wusses pussed out on us, J_ and I trooped to 7-11 to buy cigarettes, smoke them, and down about six beers out in his truck so we wouldn't disturb the kids inside. We had a great conversation, and we ran to the room to claim the couchbed before the two other boys would make us sleep on the floor (one of which was a Sisco and the Roadrunner you may remember from SpyTech 2003). The bed sure beat the floor and no one had a problem with us sharing a space, least of all me. I'd sleep next to Freddy Krueger if I'd be more comfortable and if I were paying money to have a bed. I didn't really have a problem that I was sharing a bed with a married guy, either. Never mind that he had been complaining that he got married way too young and loved his wife, but dearly wished he had waited a few years to get his living out of his system. I didn't have a problem at all...

Until I was awakened by his arm around me.

Not a big deal, I told myself, he probably thinks he's in bed with his wife.

I kind of shook him awake and said, "Uh, buddy, that's cool and all, but skootch over a bit, okay?"

Fine. We go to sleep.

I toss and turn a lot. I'm not saying this was all his fault if he interpreted me errantly rubbing against him as a come-on...

Um, he put his hand up my shirt.

That's when I grabbed his hand, pointed to his ring, and said, "HELLO!?!?" in the most-pissed off whisper I could manage. The last thing I wanted to do was draw attention to it in front of all his friends; they all know his wife, I don't, and quite frankly, it would have been awkward for them.

The evening progressed without too much incident, but I couldn't help feeling kind of cheated. He's a fun guy and cute and all, and had he not been hitched, I'd say that I would have dragged him out on the porch and had my way with him long ago. I was disappointed because he just cemented my theory that a) I should have never put myself in that situation because I probably knew on some level that something like that could have happened, b) I'm a bad person for tempting fate, c) I'm going to get mine someday when I'm married, and d) all East Coast boys love me and can't get enough of me.

Saturday morning I left for Pittsburgh for yet another wedding. You know it's going to be a party when greeting the bride in the receiving line, she squeals, "OH MY GOD! JESS! THE DJ IS GOING TO PLAY A SONG FOR YOU AT THE RECEPTION!" and the song turns out to be "Bootylicious." It was sweet the bride dedicated something to me at the party, you know?

We had a terrific time, but it seemed to fly by because we danced so much. Much shorter than the other reception.

Later that night, I was complaining (drunk) about how CNET would never love me, blah blah blah, and I had a moment with the groom from the wedding two weeks before. He said, "Jess, come on now, don't get down."

"I know, I know," I said, "it's his loss, right? That's what CNET always says, anyway."

"Well, no," he said, "It is his loss, but you have to look at it this way: it's your loss, too. It has to be a tiny bit your loss because you care, otherwise what's the point? But it's thismuch (thumb and forefinger apart) your loss, and THIS MUCH (arms spread wide) his loss, you know?"

Yeah, buddy, I know.

CNET returns home from Europe today. I have "Open Arms" running through my head. Off to eat lemon pepper chicken with my pals...cheers!

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