"I want to become one with the universe", he stated matter-of-factly. All while looking over a display of Donald trump memorabilia at 7/11. (He proceeded to buy a foam head, pen with a bobble head and considered playing cards but decided against it. This is not necessary information but felt important to mention) Not necessarily the fan club I want to watch the election with but appreciating the diversity of the situation. Worst comes to worst, I'll hate fuck him for the impending triumph of Donald trump and we'll both feel like winner for a moment.
We proceed to head to my house, my bestie in tow. Not knowing, this election night was about to be much more interesting than either of us had anticipated. It was apparent from the moment he got in the car that the evenings turn up was already real on his behalf. But this didn't prevent him from pounding away at half an old English 40. Followed by half a pink lemonade four loco. Not noticing the rapid level of intoxication he was achieving, I play footsie with him and touch his arm in a passive flirtation. One I was hoping screamed, "I want to sit on your dick!"
He didn't miss the cue. Faster than a snake grabbing a mouse, grabs my thigh. Thrusting me towards him, knocking over half the content on the poker table between us in the process. Thrown the fuck off, I shove my hand against his chest and work on prying off his vice grip on my thigh. The whole while he watches with crazy eyes that clearly displayed how humorous he was finding my discomfort. Finally he lets go and I turn back to the election. All the while, trying to ignore what just happened. Praying to the God I don't believe in, that my bestie come back inside from smoking soon.
"The guest" sits talking about how, “Trump's not a bad dude!” Making statements like, “If I were rich i'd want to live and behave however I like.” I mean, what're consequences right? My bestie eventually wanders back in accompanied by my roommate. Fresh off work and ready to join the anxiety ridden election with us. Poor girl. She had no idea what she had just walked into. As she settled in, "the guest" took it upon himself to start massaging her shoulders. An act that’d make anyone uncomfortable, especially from a complete strange.
As I’m sure you realize, he didn’t understand, no care, about social cues. So when she went to move away, he grabbing her wrists, holding them fully extended at her sides. Preventing her from moving from the chair she occupied. As panic flashed over her face, he moved in close to her in an attempt to kiss her neck. Shocked, I sit frozen, totally blanking on what to do. Thankfully, she gets him off and he sits down as she runs to her room. This should have been my end cue but…
It was mere minutes before he grabs me again. Knocking over the table and its contents in the process. Again. This time I grab his face, "Get it the fuck together, do you understand? Do you want to get knocked out? Cause I'm this close," I say, holding my fist centimeters from his face. "Put your shoes on man. We're going." Def not the hate fuck I was hoping for.
Thank god for boy best friends, not only would this situation have been so much worse without him, but fuck, did he make it more humorous. As my bestie helped "the guest" down the stairs. Done only by holding the back of his jacket, as “the guest” leaning forward. Lit and looking like a rocket about to take off for flight. The dick that I am, just stood on the lower level deck, laughing so hard I almost peed my pants.
It was apparent at this point his mobile skills were basically that of a drunken 2 year old. My bestie held him up in the yard while I pulled the car around. "Come on, get in," I yell from the car, only to realizing that there was clearly a struggle. “The guest” had begun running around the front yard. Like a cat chasing a laser, but instead of a laser, he was evading getting in the car. Tears running down my cheeks and my stomach sore from laughing, I help my bestie herd "the guest" towards the car. Trying with all my efforts to wrap up the evening.
"Just get in. It's time to go home and go to bed, you'll feel better in the morning," I coax him. He drunkenly babbles, "I'll feel better about what??" Jesus Christ. A few moments later he followed up with, "Sydney, I can confidently say I love you." At the same moment I turned the car and with it, his flew from one side of the backseat to the other.
God, this is about to be a long 4 years.