The Trail

No matter where you are in the world, no matter who you are or who you know, no matter who you sleep with – you will leave a trail. Six degrees of separation is an interesting and dangerous concept and it seems to apply even more when you are hooking up with more than one girl at once. Let me explain:

                You are at a party, single, dancing with a PYT. She’s obviously feeling you so you invite her back to your place. She readily accepts – you know what happens. During the week you get a text from a different girl asking if you want to hang out. Still single, you stupidly think to yourself, “Cool, must be my week,” and you accept. You go get a bite to eat and invite her back to your place. In desperate need of validation, she accepts – you know what happens. Later in the week you go on the date that you have had set up for a couple of weeks. A nice dinner, a movie, and a lighthearted (secretly super competitive) round of mini golf and she is eating out of your hand (pants). After some exciting and illegal public fellatio you brag to your friends the next morning at breakfast. But wait – the waitress is hot and flirtatious. Since you are having such a hot week your friends eagerly allow you to take it from here. After her shift you give it to her in her car in the parking lot. After being exhausted from a long week of being “The Man” you are content with chilling for the next few days. On this vacation you continue to text these girls, all of whom are very excited about the new incredibly charming man they have in their life. Enter: drama.

                The girl from the party went back home after a good night of lovin’ and told her housemate about the incredible guy she just met. The housemate, who has a disturbingly close (borderline incestuous) relationship with her brother, tells her brother how happy she is for her housemate. Her brother, while on his break at the restaurant shares a cigarette with his co-worker and casually mentions his sister’s roommate’s new man. The air-headed waitress has still not caught on. Since her car is getting detailed after the mess you left in it, her friend has to pick her up from work. “What happened to your car?” her friend asks. The waitress giggles and tells her about the stud she met on the morning shift a few days earlier. In shock, the friend laughs and playfully calls the waitress a slut, proceeding to tell her about her date the night before her friend was slain in the parking lot. They are both sluts.

                “Why have none of them stated his name?” you ask. I answer your question with another question, what happened to the girl who texted you to hang out? Enter: the twist.

                The girls, while laughing, hear something interesting on the radio and begin to calm down so they can listen. The DJ is talking about something personal, on the same topic the girls have just been discussing. She describes how she texted a guy she thought was cute purely because she wanted a little action, but he was so charming that somehow she managed to catch feelings. Since she had an emotional tie to this man she felt like she had no problem saying his name on air. She says your name.

                The girls in the car go quiet. They look at each other. “What’s wrong?” they say in unison. “That’s my guy’s name..” they also say simultaneously. The waitress wants to take a detour past her co-workers house. He takes them to his sister’s place to talk to her roommate. They tell the roommate what has happened and the roommate starts crying uncontrollably – The DJ is her sister. They call the sister and put her on speaker to inform her on the situation. Livid, they all textually abuse you. Your phone is going so crazy that the girl lying next to you breathing ever so heavily asks what is going on. You pause, so she knows you are about to lie and snatches your phone right out of your hands. She does not seem to like what she is reading – since she is already back fully clothed. “Damn.” You say out loud. “Damn is right. Cindy (the waitress) is my daughter.”

                Your name is spread throughout town – as a king among men, and a womanizer among women. Enter: free beers for a week and a cold streak for eight months.

                The lesson? Free beers taste much better than the ones you pay for.