Enter my Crazy Bitch best friend who's wilder than me when she's single. This weekend, she happened to be single, and we were on a mission: To find us some bedroom fun.
There were a couple sexual darknesses on the dancefloor that we immediately decided to bend over in front of and back-back-back it up on.
With further review, I should take back the "sexual" statement when referring to the guy I had picked, but I was a good friend. She had a pretty boy, and they were both pretty funny. BONUS: They had accents! So we headed back to her house, where I planned on ditching mine in her guest room as I headed home alone to holler at my more dependable late-night "friend."
That's when she decided to drop the bomb that this grenade I had on my hands had to go home with me or else her man wouldn't be comfortable shacking up with her! Because I'm such an awesome wingman, we packed it up and hopped in my bed. That's when I asked him his name and deets.
Name: Martial. Home: Straight outta Africa. Age: Ten years older than me.
Imagine being in your bed, starting to undress, and finding out this information. Then imagine this person asking:
"Would you mind if I french-kissed you?"
Pause. French kiss?! WHO SAYS THAT ANYMORE?! Who, in their right mind, in their thirties, is going to ask a girl who has invited you into her bed and stripped off some of her clothes, for a kiss? A FRENCH KISS, at that?
That's when it became too much. He tried to kiss me and it was awful. He then tried to take the kissing a little further (south), but I had to pick his face up and make him his own bed on the floor. It takes pure artistry to pull off a fail like that, and that's why he will forever be known as Martial Arts.
Enough vodka to be willing to host the grenade: $15.00 (Helloooo, it's college!)
Mouthwash to rid myself of the awful taste: $3
Hearing an African ask for my permission for a french kiss: PRICELESS.
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