one time at band camp

Take a trip with me, won't you? All we need are a Delorean, a flux capacitor, some stolen Plutonium, and maybe a Huey Lewis tune in our hearts. It's almost exactly a year ago, All Hallow's Eve, and a girl I dated (I know, right? How things change) is having her annual bash. Hey, I dated her for a reason and that reason is that she is unbelievably awesome and throws probably the best Halloween parties in the history of the universe.... ever. Like a predictable trollop, I arrive as a scantily clad red riding hood (see picture below YOU'RE WELCOME). My friends are cooloer than me (mario and princess peach, undead steve irwin and the stingray that killed him). Our hostess is Bloody Mary and the whole house is bathed in red light, covered in blood, and otherwise terrifying. Seriously, she actually destroyed her own apartment for the party because, apparently, she had been planning to redecorate anyway. I thought is was tremendously awesome. Plus, there's lots of booze. Moving on...

The hostess introduces me to her new boyfriend who is dressed up all army boy and, well, me like. But hey, that's her guy, and I seriously doubt he'll be into the gangly trannie anyway. He's nice though and already three sheets to the wind. He offers me a shot. And another. Then another. We talk, we laugh, but I excuse myself to go hang out with the homies I came with.

He comes looking for me because he wants me to drink more with him. Alright, why not? This can't possibly be going anywher, right? Right?!?! A few more shots are thrown back I should mention now that, even prior to my horrible deathly illness, I never was much of a drinker. So now I am beyond the pale, laughing hysterically, and drunk out of my mind. Recognizing the potential ills of this situation, I secret my way to our host's bedroom where it's agreed by all that perhaps I should rest my eyes for a bit and let the booze run it's course with as little movement from me as possible lest I make a mess on the floor.

He comes looking for me AGAIN because we need to keep drinking according to him. I tell him I can't posibly drink again and he leaves, dejected. Finally, I drift into blissful unconscious land.

I wake when people come in to smoke weed. I don't mind. I used to do my share of that too (don't tell mom!) although I'm always confused when people in their forties still do this stuff because I feel way too old for it now. Oh, well. You know me. I don't judge anyone unless they are republican ( I know, shame on me). Anyhoozle, so they do their thing and leave. I get a contact buzz but doze back off to sleep like Little Nemo... who is dressed up like slutty little red riding hood.

... some time later I start to come to. Feeling extremely groggy, I wonder at first what has roused me. All the lights in the bedroom are out and, as my eyes adjust to the darkness, I slowly begin to become aware of something. What is it? It's this strange sensation coming from behind me. A quietly turn my head to discover my ex's boyfriend is FONDLING MY ASS AND TOUCHING HIMSELF!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Clearly, I am having a very strange dream, yeah?

...Nah! It's for real. So I'm just staring at him, dumbfounded, because it's the dumbest thing I can imagine. Finally, he realizes I am wide awake. After a moment, he freaks out and runs out of the bedroom just in time for his girlfriend, my ex, to come walking in. "What the hell just happened?!" she asks. "I think your boyfriend was groping me in my sleep", I say still in total disbelief. Then, because I'm convinced I actually am still sleeping, I pass back out.

Two hours later I finally wake up of my own volition so I actually feel, you know, conscious. I walk out toward the toilet and run into my ex. "I don't suppose that was a dream, was it?" I ask. "Nope!" she replies, a mix of emotions on her face.

There's a coda to this story and that coda involves some punishment. My poor ex, who is a lovely woman, has experienced something that is, let's face it, kind of traumatic. A man whom she used to have sex with has become a woman who her current boyfriend unexpectedly lusted after, albeit in an inebriated state. If I were her, my head would be all owie. I mean I'm me and my head was all owie so there you go. So the punishment! I had to drive a friend home (relax, I was completely sober at this point). So I did what anyone would do, I instructed said friend to go to the car, grab my bag full of BOY CLOTHES from the trunk, and bring them to me. Baggy jeans? Check. Baggy, plaid, 90's style button up? Double check? The makeup, came off, the hair got tied back, and that's when we said our farewells. He looked HORRIFIED. I walked up to him, gruffed up my voice and pitched it as low as posible and said "Thanks, dude. I'll see you around." I smiled real big, and we left.

Best night of my life, people. I know that sounds dodgy but, seriously, for all the wrong that could have happened, it was the funniest thing ever. Even the bad stuff was good. It was the first time I actually felt like a legit girl to the world outside. Up until that moment I was just a boy in a dress as far as all those other people were concerned. But when that drunken dude made the moves well.... my ex definitely saw me as something she'd never expected me to be: a threat. And that's... well... that's AWESOME. Ha! I mean HA HA HA HA HA HAAAAAAA. It felt sooooo good to make a girl feel jealous. Go ahead and think I'm a bitch, I don't care. Hoo! Magnificent.

She stayed with him. He insisted that it was all just a joke. A joke, huh? Insert insulting comment about his penis here. I've seen him a few times since and he looks equally uncomfortable every time. He's such an ass. Imagine: had he played his cards right and not acted like a complete douche, he probably could've had both me and his girlfriend that night. Oh, well...



THE END.