“I’m not saying bartending made me tired of human beings, I’m just saying I regularly look at the cost of real estate on the remote island of Saint Helena.” -the author
It had been a fun night at Calvin’s place. We’d laughed, played games, and everyone had a great time. I’d met nice people, made out with two hot women, and banged my girlfriend in the bathroom (after a joyous drunk fest). As we drove home my girl was excited and couldn’t wait to go back to Calvin’s for another party. Yet I was quiet, downcast, and introspective. While I’d just been to the best party of my life and kissed three babes in one night, I still felt hollow and depressed. It was only then I realized how much the bar industry had taken from me.
***
Calvin and I had been friends for over 25 years, since before high school. He was the younger brother of a childhood friend and for the first few years Calvin and I had beaten each other up and competed over video games. But as we got older we got more friendly, started drinking together, and became good friends.
As long as I could remember Calvin was a humble, stand up guy, who knew what he wanted. But while he was easygoing and non-confrontational, he was confident and able to put fools in their place whenever they crossed the line. He did this in a calm, firm manner, which forced the offender to de-escalate, or retreat once they knew they looked idiotic. As someone who used to be a hothead and would escalate to de-escalate (to browbeat assholes in submission) I admired Calvin’s patience.
He liked to drink, though usually not to excess, but was always responsible and a family man first. Calvin was a simple, though far from boring man, who worked hard and never bothered anyone. As a friend you were lucky to have him and as an enemy he was clever enough to just cut people off, forget they existed, and go on with life. Because he learned a valuable nugget of wisdom far sooner than I did; that the best insult you can inflict upon your enemies is to ignore them!
Yet despite Calvin’s unassuming manner he had an interesting side I remain envious of. He was a swinger and he and his wife had… “relations” with friends and strangers. Calvin would take part in sex parties and sometimes worked security for them. During a stint of unemployment he offered me such a job but as I don’t feel comfortable with most people (even when they’re dressed) I politely turned him down. I also dreaded the prospect of seeing people I knew at such events, wondering how awkward it would be to see a professor, colleague, or even relative!
Anyway, while I enjoy sex and hot women, and am liberal on sexuality, I keep my… “nightly activities” to myself. I’ve also found it hard to hook up with girls I don’t have emotions for. Call me romantic, naive, even stupid, but I’ve never bedded a women I felt nothing for, or acted like a bitch. Maybe that’s why I found it confusing whenever colleagues told me to go for waitresses or patrons who’ve busted my balls; failing to realize that was how they flirted and invited me to pursue them. I don’t care, I have no regrets, I’ll take a sweetheart over a bitch any day.
But despite such things I’d occasionally become tempted by Calvin’s “leisurely endeavours” and make subtle inquiries about them. And given I valued my girlfriend (and knew she found women attractive) I made sure to keep an open dialogue with her regarding this. After all, perhaps we’d find some girls to share for a few evenings with. However, my occasional feelers inevitably went no where, as I didn’t want to work such events and was too self-conscious to attend them otherwise. Thus, I never took such a lifestyle seriously.
***
It was early 2024 when Calvin invited us to another party at his house. While I was aware of his nocturnal escapades none of his parties had featured them… so far. There’d been plenty of booze, tubs full of candy, even strippers, but no outright orgies. I usually had a good time at them, though I was reluctant to engage the strippers or enjoy a lap dance. While I don’t judge those who do, I just don’t believe in paying women to touch or pleasure me (I’d make a lousy sugar daddy).
However, I once got a kick out of inviting a friend at the last minute so he could walk into the room at the climax of the stripper’s performance, unaware. I still laugh whenever I recall him coming through the front door with a 12 pack. All eyes turned to him instantly, the stripper waved and said hi, and his cheeks turned redder than Tiananmen Square on October 1st.
Otherwise, being a bartender, drunk, and creature of the night, I’d focus on the copious amounts of booze, beer pong, and when available, weed. Because when Calvin and his cohort got together they’d stockpile more alcohol than a Russian military depot in the dying days of the Soviet Union. I remember one party in particular, on Calvin’s birthday, when he asked people to bring Lemon flavoured gin. When we got there he was slightly… indisposed, and made every arriving guest take a shot.
As soon as my girlfriend (who rarely drinks and functions as my de facto D.D.) and I stepped through the door Calvin was upon us. After procuring two shots of lemon gin he insisted we down them immediately. While Calvin was unfailingly polite and non-pushy 99% of the time he wouldn’t take no for an answer. So after my girl shyly said no for the 3rd time I raised my hand, locked eyes with Calvin, and told him she wasn’t interested. He was initially shocked and perhaps assumed I was offended by his actions.
But of course I wasn’t, quickly smiled, and said “BUT I AM,” as I took both shots and downed them instantly. After all, bartending taught me the fine art of diplomacy, I didn’t want to be rude, and was willing to make such a “sacrifice” for my girlfriend. Besides, lemon flavoured gin goes down far easier than tequila and I would’ve taken 5 shots of it versus 1 of the latter. Anyway, either I imbibed too much gin that night, smoked too much weed, or maybe it’s just the passage of time, but I don’t recall anything else from that evening.
Regardless, while Calvin’s parties had been fun, lively, entertaining, and intoxicating, there’d yet to be wholesale sexual activity… until that evening in early 2024.
***
We arrived around 8:30 or 9pm with a 24 pack of Bud Light and a bottle of lemon gin, in appreciation of Calvin’s hospitality. The party theme was all things Neon and that should’ve been the first clue of its sensual nature. That and the strobe lights, sexy music, and girl in a bikini passing out Jello shots. There were a lot of new, good looking couples there, who seemed excited but nervous. Had I more common sense I would’ve put all of this, along with Calvin’s nocturnal habits, together. But as Bryon often told me I was the smartest and dumbest man he knew.
Besides, I quickly succumbed to beer pong, Jello shots, and Bud Light at an ill-advised rate. I was also distracted by all the hot, neon-dressed women (especially Calvin’s friends I found attractive). And while my girl and I had entertained the idea of an open relationship we hadn’t agreed on anything concrete. Thus, while I’d occasionally engage in innocent, casual flirting when I found someone especially attractive, I wasn’t ready to deal with the situation currently unfolding.
But even had I been aware of the potential opportunities before me my flirting/propositioning skills, such as they’d been, had deteriorated after five years with my girlfriend. Even during my best years of bartending, when my ability to charm reached its zenith, I mostly flirted in short, controlled bursts (the way you fire a machine gun). Because my quiet, cynical nature, along with a propensity for alcohol, had too often risked me coming on too strong or saying something stupid. Thus, I’d learned to be friendly, funny, and casual, but otherwise cautious when it came to seduction. Because 95% of the time women are the choosers and more times than not less is more when it comes to the initial chase, which I’ve always hated.
Therefore, once I realized the true nature of the party and we began to be advanced upon I retreated into firebase mentality and awaited events.
***
It started when two of the young women flirted blatantly with my girlfriend. This was not necessarily unwelcome to me, especially if there were prospects of a threesome. After all, my girl had once flirted aggressively with a waitress who served us (right in front of me). Btw, I doubt many women would be as understanding had I flirted with the server instead!
Anyway, at first I thought they were just being friendly with my girl, because I’d learned you shouldn’t read too much into positive encounters with women (especially when you like them). But after realizing my girlfriend swung both ways they approached me cautiously and asked if I was okay if they made out with her. Of course I was, given I’m a red blooded male and hoped it would lead to a more “inclusive” outcome. But I was also taken off guard, not expecting such boldness. So I shyly hesitated, looked at my woman, and said “it’s up to you babe.” Because my girl and I have always been honest, open, and respect each others’ independence.
Unsurprisingly, my girl was enthusiastic and didn’t hesitate. But the first girl, hot, curvy, and well-endowed, was 15 inches shorter than her. It was almost cute seeing my girlfriend crouch down to kiss her. At the time I would’ve been more excited but I had a tiny crush on the girl. Jealousy is the ugliest emotion and I even left the party slightly bitter I didn’t get to make out with her (despite all the other overwhelming positive results that evening).
Anyway, if I thought that hot make out session with my girlfriend was a one off I was mistaken.
Because another girl, dressed in even more neon attire and with a lower back tattoo, also wanted to kiss my girlfriend. Like the other young woman, I also found her attractive and not wanting to be rude, gave my consent. She was also short so my girlfriend had to bend down again and having more confidence after her initial pleasant encounter, went all in this time. Afterwards, they had fun with the stripping pole in the far corner of the room, which for some reason I hadn’t noticed before (I guess that’s what happens when you focus on drinking at a sex party).
Either way, by then my sex drive had finally awoken so I retreated to the washroom to mask my enthusiasm and collect my thoughts. Because alcohol corrodes judgment, I’d already consumed plenty, and my reasoning skills tended to erode when surrounded by so much sex appeal.
While I was in the bathroom two men tried kissing my girl. The first was a guy 10 years older than me, who’d been gentling busting my balls all night. I found out later he was trying to swap partners with me and given his girl was insanely hot (and ended up kissing me), I would’ve definitely considered it. If only the communication had been better or I’d known the subtle nuances of a sex party.
The second guy was Calvin… like WTF! I admire the man to this day but my initial reaction to this discovery was slight annoyance to say the least. Not so much that he tried, it was a sex party after all, but that he’d done it covertly while I was taking a piss. Now I just laugh, admiring his nerve to do it. So Calvin if you ever read this I love and forgive you!
***
The climax of the party, for me at least, happened soon after I left the washroom. Having finally registered the nature of the event I pondered my next moves. But while there were plenty of cute girls there I was unsure if I wanted to… initiate anything. Again, I didn’t understand the nuances or protocols of such events and being inexperienced I’m sure any approach by me would have seemed cute at best and or creepy at worst. No doubt lines like “excuse me, I find you attractive and would like to kiss you,” or “hey, you’re cute, want to make out” would have been less than satisfactory.
Instead, I fell back on the defense and opened another Bud Light. Because after years of bartending and partying my mantra for such moments was “when in doubt, drink.” Indeed, I hadn’t paced myself, especially given the lemon gin and Jello shots, and while I wasn’t slurring, yet, I doubt I could’ve spelt Guadalcanal or Mississippi on command. I wasn’t visibly drunk, to the average person at least, but it was obvious I was comfortably tipsy.
But sometimes good things happen to those who wait because despite (or perhaps due to) my slightly inebriated state I made out with two babes in quick succession.
The first was the woman of the older guy who tried to kiss my girlfriend. She was the hot red head passing out Jello shots in a bikini. It happened so quickly it took a while for me register it. She simply dropped off her Jello tray, grabbed my head, pulled me towards her, and stuck her tongue down my throat. Clearly, she was a seasoned swinger and had mastered the art. I must have given my consent somehow but she was in and out of me within 5 seconds I’m sure. It was too fast for me to thoroughly enjoy it but I hope she got more out of it than my Bud Light breath (barely masked by the chewing gum I deployed after leaving the bathroom).
Anyway, the experience was brief, unexpected, pleasant enough, and immediately calmed me down. After all, if kissing a curvy, half naked red head passing out free alcohol doesn’t improve morale, nothing will. So I lowered my guard, became more sociable, and joked around with my girlfriend and some of the guests.
Soon afterwards another girl approached me. It was the second woman who kissed my girlfriend… the one with the hot, lower back tattoo. She was also a friend of Calvin’s and I’d met her nearly a dozen of times over the years. I always found her attractive and as she stood in front of me half naked and neon-shining it took everything for me not to blush or ogle her beautiful body.
But I also knew she found me attractive based on our encounters and despite my condition I knew where this was going. So for one of the few times, in and out of my bartending career, I said little, played it cool, and waited for events to unfold. Unlike the professional swinger before her, who used the DIRECT approach, this girl was slower, and more gentle. I can’t remember the dialogue, for obvious reasons, but she was cute enough to make a few jokes before suggesting we kiss.
My girlfriend was right next to me but since she’d kiss this babe too I knew she wouldn’t object. I was actually more worried about my drunken state, that I’d be sloppy in my execution or even hurt here, as she was much smaller than myself. So, like my girl before me, I crouched down and let the cute girl dictate the pace and intensity of the exchange. Fortunately, she was feisty and enthusiastic and compensated for my caution and tipsiness.
Like a shot of tequila the experience was briefer and less pleasant than hoped for, but I’d made out with a bombshell and hadn’t done anything stupid. That was a win in my books. However, the girl stuck around, smiling keenly at me. Clearly she wanted another round. Maybe she wanted more than kisses, or maybe she lacked a sense of taste that nullified my beer breath, but she insisted we kiss again. And given I didn’t want to be rude and she was so hot (did I mention she had a lower back tattoo?) I gave in to her request.
This time I was more confident and matched her energy. After all, if a strange, cute girl wants to kiss you a second time after experiencing Bud Light breath you have nothing to lose. So I was playful enough to satisfy the girl, but not to the point it displeased my girlfriend… who again was just next to me and could wonder why I wasn’t sensual like that “all the time.”
***
After this second pleasant encounter ended I paused as the cute girl walked away. I was too drunk by then to inquire about something more… intimate, but my libido was near volcanic by then. Fortunately, so was my girlfriend’s and we went straight to the bathroom once it was empty. I don’t discuss my sex life, but needless to say we had a very pleasant, if brief, experience in the poorly lit, neon decorated washroom. And while perhaps it was crude to do so just across from Calvin’s son’s room, he did try to kiss my girl without asking.
Of course it didn’t matter, he laughed about it when I told him the next time we had beers.
Anyway, things calmed down after we left the bathroom and since my girl was tired and I was too drunk to seek out more adventure we left soon afterwards… no doubt after a few more shots of lemon gin.
It had been a fun night at Calvin’s place. We’d laughed, played games, and everyone had a great time. I’d met nice people, made out with two hot women, and banged my girlfriend in the bathroom (after a joyous drunk fest). As we drove home my girl was excited and couldn’t wait to go back to Calvin’s for another party. Yet I was quiet, downcast, and introspective. While I’d just been to the best party of my life and kissed three babes in one night, I still felt hollow and depressed. It was only then I realized how much the bar industry had taken from me.
Despite such a pleasant evening I’d generally been cautious, reactive, even hyper-vigilant. For the bar industry had conditioned me to be wary of people and on guard whenever surrounded by large groups and alcohol. Taught me to tell people what they wanted to hear and question their motives. And once we left the party I realized everyone had been nothing but kind, friendly in MORE than one way, and I was disgusted by the toll 17 years of bartending had taken on my personality and viewpoint of human beings.
But then I looked at my girlfriend, who was all smiles and clearly happy. She’d also had a rough life but somehow still mostly liked and trusted people, and hadn’t developed my cynical view on humankind. So I offered her a weak grin and finally spoke up.
“Babe, did we just go to a sex party,?” I asked.
“We sure did!,” she said without hesitation.
…I’ve spent many years trying to de-program myself from the paranoid, hyper-vigilant, and cynical state my career inflicted upon me. And while I’ve regained much of the trust and empathy I had when I started years ago, there’re still days I wish I could live in isolation at a light house, far, far away from everyone.