God love my parents. I mean, these are the people that conceived me, diapered my ass and watched me evolve from an uncontrollable brat, into the mature, responsible 24 year old woman that I am today. However, they did drop the ball when I was 13 years old. But, I guess dragging me by my hair to my four year jail sentence was payback for terrorizing their lives. Are you ready for the 5 words that still make my skin crawl? All. Girl. Catholic. High. School. (Guys, control your boners, the experience was NOTHING like what you see in the movies). Regardless, if there is anything positive I can share from this experience, it would be the following:
- anyone with a dick doesn’t have the right to preach about abortions.
- I have no respect for 95% of the female population.
With that being said. I love my guy friends. Enough so, that I could never think about having sex with any of them. (Ok, I lied, the thought has crossed my mind, but hey, an active mind is a healthy mind).
Exhibit A: Tim
I met Tim a few years back while I was interning for a radio station he worked for. It’s nearly impossible to be perceived as more than the, “coffee bitch,” when you’re in intern, but Tim’s effective method of breaking the ice, broke down that barrier.
Tim: So what are you doing this Summer?
Nicole: I’m going to California with my boyfriend.
Tim: Oh, so you guys are going to bone a lot.
At this point, I was totally thrown off guard. I thought to myself, who says that? And we just met, you have some set of balls!
From then on, our friendship has consisted of a lot of beer and liquor. Enough so that, 9/10 times, one or both of us stumbles home. After all these years of brain cells being killed from excessive drinking, nothing past the occasional slap on the ass and an exchange of somewhat inappropriate pictures has taken place.
Last year though, the, “what if,” part of my brain almost got the best of me.
I drove out to New Jersey to check out Tim’s new apartment. After grabbing a bite to eat, we went out to a local bar to meet up with some other friends who came out to visit the new pad as well. As the lights brightened, and the bartender screamed out, “last call,” I knew I wasn’t going to make it home in one piece. When we got back to Tim’s, the couch seemed like a better idea than a possible DUI, so I crashed. But as I tossed and turned, I thought to myself, “what if.” What if I went in his room right now? What if we had sex? Would our friendship really go head first into a brick wall?
Thankfully, I was too drunk to move from the couch to his bedroom, and thankfully my better judgment prevented me from waking up with that same sense of regret that you feel after eating McDonald’s at 2 in the morning. I don’t say this with any disrespect for Tim. Hell, he’s a good looking guy with a kick ass personality, and I hope one day he finds someone that is equally as awesome as himself.
This goes for Tim and all the other male friends in my life. I refuse to shit where I eat.
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