A common pattern in my life the past couple of years is my lack of girlfriends, at least in the same place that I am. This has been no different in New York, as I only have about 3 girls that I hang out with on a regular basis. It's not good but it does make for some interesting stories at times. The past couple weeks I have had some epic nights out with just me and boys. Starting with, interestingly enough, with the boys Fidel and I had met on the subway. I agreed to the requested drink with Tooly. I was under the impression that this would be a date situation, and luckily for me, it wasn't. I arrived at the bar down the street from MoMA and Tooly greeted me, accompanied by a gaggle of his coworkers, including Farts. I knew immediately that the night would be interesting. Luckily he was there since Tooly almost immediately left me to go upstairs and socialize with some of his other coworkers. I sat and chatted with Farts and one of their other friends. Surprisingly, Farts was a pretty normal person when sober. Normal, meaning he wasn't farting in public. But I got along well with them and liked chatting with them more than with Tooly. They also admitted to me that the last time they were at this bar Tooly had as a joke promised one of the waitresses he could get her a job at the investment bank where they worked. At this point my opinion of Tooly wasn't so high but I decided to stick with it and see where the night took me. The boys invited me to the next bar which wasn;t far away where they were going to meet more of their coworkers. This is when the night started to pick up. They forewarned me about one the guys we were to meet. He was apparently crazy and could party harder than all of them combined. Every night they went out with him he tried to convince one of them to be the godfather to his kids. He was probably in his forties, with a thick New Jersey accent and I could see the craziness in his eyes. He walked up to us yelling that he had showed his balls to an Asian girl at the bar the night before. He shoved a drink in my hands and from there on out it was like watching a performer at a circus. He told outrageous stories and made fun of the boys, especially Tooly. He at one point told me that his wife “shits money”. He was one of the most outrageous people I have ever met. At this point I was pretty wasted, as a result of the rotation drinks being bought for me. Definitely one of the perks of hanging with the boys. So after telling Tooly a little more loudly than I should have that the only other girl in the group looked like shit, he decided it was time to remove me from the circle. I had been whining for the past hour that I wanted a snack so led me away from the bar with the promise of food. While walking we ran into another one of his coworkers on the street. They did a bro-hug and when he turned to me loudly said to Tooly. “Is this your date? She's beautiful!” and then to me “What are you doing with him?”. Maybe all investment bankers aren't so bad. We resumed our walk and I noticed that we were heading away from food and towards Central Park. Tooly swore there was a food stand still open though I was skeptical. We walked through the park but there were no food stands in sight. By this time I was aware of Tooly's plan but I happened to think it was hilarious. I had sobered up enough to know I could fight him off if things went too far. Luckily all Tooly decided to do was make out with me (with the occasional wandering hand). Probably because as soon as he went in for it I practically screamed in his face “I'm not sleeping with you!!”. So I have officially hooked up in Central Park. Am I a homeless person? After Tooly led us out of the park, while I tried to brush the dirt from the back of my dress. He hailed us a cab and proceeded to make out with me. He of course tried to get me to go home with him and I refused. I exited the cab, and story of boys in New York, have not heard from him since. I do miss Farts though.
Another memorable (or not so) night out with the boys was with GF. Now when we both lived in DC there was a summer a few years ago that we were hanging out with this one guy. I'm honestly not sure how we knew him or where we came from. But he drove a Jag and we would all go out to clubs together. These were rowdy nights and one of them resulted in the worst hangover I have ever experienced (so bad that I had to call in sick to work that Monday after going out with them the Saturday before). I had not seen him since and GF hadn't either until a couple of weeks go when he randomly ran into him at the gym. Jags had relocated to New York as well. We were reunited. This particular night Jags had invited the two of us to his friend's apartment to pregame and then we were going to head to a club that had just opened in the Lower East Side. I had seriously debated even going out since my parents were coming into town early the next morning to help me move into my new apartment (story to come). But once I made out into Manhattan I knew I was going to make a night of it. Jags had become much more muscly in the three years since I had seen him and his friend was a personal trainer, so he was just as large. They were both wearing wife beaters and were total juiceheads. We sat in the apartment drinking and unable to speak much since the house music was blaring. The variety of my nights out and the people I hang out with in New York always amazes me. We headed to the club where I quickly bypassed my three drink limit I had set for myself for the night. I enjoyed the house music that was playing but I knew that with this trio there was no way I was going to be meeting any dudes. So I proceeded to dance around like an idiot. This is part of the reason I love house music so much—no rhythm or skill is required to dance to it. Which is good because I have neither. I was thinking this when Jag's friend approached me to dance with him. I did but was chuckling to myself the entire time about his bad luck. The night continued—we all danced and drank, until GF decided that it was McDonalds time. We left, without consulting with the other boys, and proceeded to order an excessive amount food. I ate 10 nuggets and fries. I briefly debated staying on GF's couch but even in my haze knew that the chances of me making it back to Astoria in time for my parents' arrival in the morning was slim to none. So I left the boys behind and took the subway back to Queens for the last time.
The next night out with the boys was certainly with the biggest group. It was my first weekend in the new apartment and it seemed that everyone was out of town. Luckily Prom came through for me when I texted him. He had a group of friends going out on the Upper East Side and I was invited to join. I finally made it to the bar after getting stared down by all the hipsters in my new neighborhood (I was definitely out of place in my Coach wedges). I walked in but Prom was nowhere in sight. I texted him with no response. I was starting to get antsy when a two guys walked up to me and asked if I was me. I was confused but one looked familiar. They of course turned out to be Prom's friends and I had met the familiar looking one when I went out with Prom right when I first moved to NYC. Prom was stuck in a cab downtown so the boys brought me over to their group of three other friends and one bought me a drink. I stood chatting with them and after telling them my deal one told me that I was “not an idiot”. Thanks I guess. He also told me that he liked my Long-CHamp bag. I told him “Thanks. I have six” and he retorted “You have a problem”. They were pretty funny and when Prom walked in they all immediately began to heckle him with “Hey Suit!”. Not long after we headed to another bar. There I was—out with seven guys and just me. Not too shabby, especially since I didn't buy one drink. Now I still hadn't fully recovered from the PVD night with GF so after about roughly two drinks I was pretty drunk. I informed them that we were going to play flip cup at this bar and when it actually happened I was really excited. I am the queen of flip cup. They grew tired of it though and so we switched to categories—I was also a strong competitor, as most the categories had to do with geography, which I'm awesome at. My modesty continued later in the night when chatting with one the boys. I don't remember the context of the conversation at all but I told him that “I'm pretty and smart so I have to be a little bit crazy”. What a winning statement. After this bar I went with Prom and the original friend I had met over to the Upper West Side to a bar where the friend's cousin worked. We sat and drank beer and at one point I had decided I had had enough—I went to the bathroom, took my beer with me and poured half of it down the drain. I then decided it was pizza time so I dragged Prom away from his friend and made him buy me pizza. We then walked downtown to catch the subway. We chatted about lord knows what until we arrived at the stop where we needed to transfer. We went our separate ways and I was pleased that I could hang out with Prom just as a friend. I then took the subway alone back to my new apartment for the first time.
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