In an effort to catalog the mass sexual dysfunction in the District of Columbia, we bring you BYT's Below The Beltway series. 1 week. 1 person. 1 city. Total Anonymity guaranteed.
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Below The Beltway No.13: 25-year-old female analyst, single for the first time since College.
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FRIDAY
Friend and I head to a punk show house party in Maryland. All hell breaks loose beforehand at Piratz tavern (plug) when I decide that 2 giant mugs of grog and a tiny salad is a wise choice for dinner. Turn up to the house and am introduced to pack of fun boys. Immediately start drunkenly blathering about life to Very Cute Boy who, instead of running away from God only knows what shit I'm talking about, listens and is amused. Head down to the basement, and after thrashing in a mosh pit, proceed to HCMO (Hard Core Make Out). + more booze = cab ride = more HCMO + fingerbang = my house in DC to drunkenly touch each other places. Wake up the next morning very proud. Allow him to cuddle me, because he is a total babe. He does not overstay his welcome, gets my number, kisses me, and peaces. Gentleman.
SATURDAY
Head to a bar with roommate for a party wearing mini-skirts like champs. Lots and lots of shots. Successfully avoid friend of a friend, aka NOVA Bro, who a month ago delighted in showing me his “sweet view” of Crystal City before pre-ejaculating to my dirty talk. The whole situation was amateur - fresh off my breakup - and completely affirmed the crucialness of my old OTR (Over The River) ban.
Last call. Alone at bar with Guy Friend From College who has the habit of scamming on me while his little, blonde and apparently boring girlfriend isn’t out. Offers to walk me home, because I have no cab money. With motor skills intact, I raise my eyebrows suspiciously, with him responding he "just wants to come over and talk." Right. Obviously let him walk me home anyway. Like any truly ambitious young woman, I know when the fuck I'm being a cock tease. Crushing cold pizza and talking about the flotilla in my non-sexy jammies ain't even my C game, dude.
Give friend a blankie and show him the couch at 5am. Knock on my bedroom door 5 minutes later. Dramatically grabs me and says he wants to kiss me. Duh. Der. Remind him that he has a girlfriend and relegate his ass back to the couch. We got painfully drunk and touched each other places last winter, so what? Lest he forget I've since had bangin' sex with his Very Hot Work Friend, who, majestically, did not fall prey to whiskey dick after an epic bourbon bender. Thrice. The flashbacks of Very Hot Work Friend get distracting... it's impossible to just forget God given talent like that.
SUNDAY
Tell everyone of last night's rejection of Guy Friend From College. Go watch World Cup with roommate and run into Baseball Player With Benefits, because, well, college haunts me. All I wanted to do was day drink and objectify soccer players, but Baseball Player pulls up a barstool next to me. Proceed to flirt relentlessly. He reminds me that I "gave him the best head he's ever had." And that shit happened 4 years ago! Liar or not, he's still cute and still stupid. Catalog his number.
MONDAY
Find out ex-boyfriend moved to Los Angeles via his best friend, who continues to gchat me after the breakup. I'm sure the ex will have fun trying to sell his morose "oh but it's so hard being an upper middle class white boy" screenplays, tit. After gathering this intelligence, tell boyfriend's best friend to fuck off. Proceed to drool over World Cup in my office. Daniele De Rossi, get in me!
TUESDAY
Go to Wonderland after a DC9 show implodes. (Sidenote: just because you have a guitar and an accordion doesn't mean you should play them.) Meet up with friends. Text with Very Cute Boy from the Corpse Fortress, who had night class and is pooped. Adorable. Run into Actually My Only Regret Boy, an ex-boyfriend of an amazing girlfriend... who I hooked up with after their epic breakup. He still sucks terribly and gropes my ass. Classic.
Need to go home, but spent all my cab cash on booze and friends want to stay. Strike up a conversation with Cute Guy With Glasses at the bar, who ends up being nerdy but seemingly sane and employed. He agrees to be my escort home. Make out as repayment and he ends up in my room. Hook up. Boring. Over it. Announce that I'm going to bed with hostility. He takes it like a bitch. Wake up the next morning and want him to leave immediately. He timidly asks me if it's okay for him to call me and quickly becomes Guy Who Lets Me Be Mean To Him. Fine, sure. Whatever.
WEDNESDAY
Obviously receive a mid-day, 2 part, grammatically incorrect text date invite from Guy Who Lets Me Be Mean To Him. Poll my friends to see if this is acceptable, as I've been in la-la-boyfriendland for the past 3 years and don't know how dating works these days. End up saying 'sure' even after conflicting answers and my gut "he's a bitch" reaction. Immediately formulate dinner/drink/whatever plans with Friends With Benefits. His roommate is in Jersey for the week and law school finals just ended. Score. Roll over after work to take bong rips, watch Boondocks and talk about his heinous ex-JAPpy girlfriend who still wears lots of Juicy and is fucking his ex-best friend. Talk shit on her until HCMO ensues. He only falls in love with Jewish girls, so our relationship works beautifully.
THURSDAY
Get mid-day texts from Guy Friend From College about Happy Hour. Respond asking if his Very Hot Work Friend will be joining. No response. Bitch. Go to dinner with Guy Who Lets Me Be Mean To Him. I'm polite and try to find things for us to talk about: Bob Dylan, vegetarianism and soccer are, um, about it. Proceed to drink heavily while he recounts his entire Peace Corps experience and whines about his "potential existential quarter-life crisis." Get me away from this whineball. Guy Friend From College drukenly texts his location and I bail. Head down the street to bar to meet up with him and his friends-proceed to get drunk. No Very Hot Work Friend, which is disappointing. Go outside to bum a cigarette, and Hot Blonde Boy In Suit begins to insist he's met me before. Nice opener, clownface. Begin to shin-kick him with my wit. He asks if he can buy me a drink. Take shots of whiskey in front of now Sad Guy Friend From College. Hot Blonde Boy In Suit gets my number and insists on taking me out the next week. Fine by me. Go home to smoke bowls and watch Comedy Central, grateful that the night did not end in total disaster. Daniel Tosh, just be my boyfriend already.
Previously in Below The Beltway:
- 8/9: Below The Belt(way) No.18
- 7/27: Below The Belt(way) No. 17
- 7/23: Below The Belt(way) No. 16
- 7/14: Below The Belt(way) No.15
- 7/13: Below The Belt(way) No.14
- 4/27: Below The Beltway No. 11
- 4/26: Below The Beltway No.10
- 4/23: Below The Beltway No. 9
- 4/21: Sex Store Stories: Pleasure Place
- 4/21: Below The Beltway No.8
God loves a cheerful giver.
That was fun to read. I couldn't keep track of which guy was which. This feature should go in the City Paper.
No, it should stay right here- where it belongs
There was nary any sex to be found!
You want to read about actual p in v sex, buy some girly porn book. This was entertaining as hell. No need to get hot and bothered here in my cube.
i dunno, my cube got plenty hot and bothered
Quite the fun read. One suggestion is for future authors -- or a non-artist BYT intern -- to draw stick-figure likenesses (ala the story on Bluebrain's UHall show) of the featured guys/girls to help readers keep track of who's who.
Will do @RP. I'm on it.
More Stick Figures Comments
This is a funny blog however the name 'Below the Beltway' is the exact same name as a long standing humor column in the Washington Post Magazine by Gene Weingarten. You might think about renaming it.
this is hilarious. libby you're an angel