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May 2024

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Booze and Boning: A Complicated Cocktail
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Booze and Boning: A Complicated Cocktail

Not to be a buzzkill, but mixing alcohol and sex isn’t always a good idea—there are plenty of downsides to screwing while sloshed.

In some of my most desperate hours (and trust me, in my late 20s there were many), I’d walk to this seedy dive bar down the street from my apartment around last call on any given weekday to see if there were any women left on the barstool. I’d grab a seat as close to the kegs as I could get, order a mug of the cheapest brew in the place and sit there scanning the who’s who of the lecherous and debauched. The best-looking ladies, at least at that time of night, typically had a beer gut, a smoker’s cough, and maybe even a wooden leg. That was as good as it was going to get at 2 a.m. in Southern Indiana. So, it stands to reason that alcohol was integral. Without it, lowering my standards enough to stomach a barfly with broken wings was a bit of a challenge. 

Here’s to slim pickings. 

One night, after a few too many, I sidled up next to this chain-smoking dipso playing the poker machine at the end of the bar. She must have been in her 50s and, if I’m honest, looked a heck of a lot like Shrek, if that portly green beast had an insatiable hankering for Wild Irish Rose and Virginia Slims. Oh well; beggars can’t be choosers. Considering it was either her or the bartender, a 6’6” ex-con named Graves, I went for it. “Hi, my name is Mike,” followed by some charming banter and a few jokes, and the next thing I knew the two of us were staggering back to my place for a nightcap. Under one condition, she demanded, her voice rumbling like she had just gargled a handful of glass: “You better eat it good.” No two ways about it, I needed a shot for the road.

We sat around my apartment taking swigs off a bottle and then boned like dumpster whores. Admittedly, while she wasn’t much to look at (or smell, for that matter), this woman came at me like a hungry cougar, doing things in the bedroom that no other woman had ever done before. It was almost as if she summoned the gods of cheap liquor, calculated her odds at screwing another average-looking bald guy with no promise for the future and just let go. Yeee-hawww! 

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