I get Lucky in a Bar. Sort of. (This is a Situation in Which Men Have Absolutely No Legal Protection.)

Be warned: this one is bad. Contains a tiny amount of sexual content. If you are a minor and there are any laws in your area prohibiting blah blah blah get on with it.

If you think the girl in 'Utter Waste of My Time' was pretty bad, this one can run-rings around Maya Smith any day!! The behavior of this chick will make your head spin round and round like a steam-powered top! She is so vulnerable and chaste and naïve- not!

I know, I know, this story seems ridiculous. In fact, I was unwilling to post it earlier. Simply because I think it's a little too far-fetched- even though I'm the one it happened to! I was afraid that if I posted this story, you all might think I'm totally making stuff up!

As always, I make the claim that this story is as 100% true as I can possibly make it. In all of it's horrible, pathetic forehead-slapping glory, this story is true. Much of the in-bar story was confirmed by the bartender the next time I visited.

Is this chick totally unaccountable? Yes. A Lying Nutball? OH, yes! If she thinks she can do this sort of stunt with impunity- this woman is likely to get herself really hurt one day.

At the Bar.

I drink socially, and I don't like drinking to excess. It took me some practice before I figured-out how to moderate my drinking, and I'm happy to say that I have a pretty good record for avoiding hangovers. If anything, this experience taught me the value of sobriety.

(Do you get the impression I'm often in bars alone? I do it because I like the atmosphere, because my guy friends mostly don't drink and because I like feeling socially engaged. If a woman would pay more attention to me, I probably wouldn't go to bars at all.)

I'm a few blocks away from my house. It's been an awful week at school, and I want to unwind.

I drank a few bottles of Corona. A guy next to me is having his birthday, and I'm offered a leftover shot. I down the Stolichnaya Oranj vodka, it goes straight to my brain. They offer me another, and I take it.

Long story short, I'm on my way to getting fit-shaced.

Eventually, my corner of the bar gets a little crowded, so I move to a less densely-packed area. I happen to sit-next to a young woman. She looks a little like Lacey Chabert from Party of Five. Okay, not gorgeous, but cute.

"Hi, what's your name?" I ask.

"Deena. Deena Prjywalsky"

"Hmm, how do you spell that?"

"P-R-J-Y-walsky, it's hard for people to spell. What's your name?"

"NiceGuy. So, what brings you here?"

She points a thumb over her shoulder at a blonde woman standing a few feet away. She has her back-turned and I don't really remember what the blonde looks like at any rate. "My friend and I are here together."

Indeed, her friend was busy talking to two other guys.

"She's busy. Wanna talk to me?" Deena asks.

"Sure, tell me about yourself."

"I go to University X."

"So do I! I'm in the graduate program. You?"

"I'm a freshman."

"You're a freshman, and you got-in to a bar?"

"Don't tell anyone... they didn't even check my i.d."

I nod. Yup, typical. If you're a guy and want to get into a bar, you'd better have your i.d. on you. If you're a woman, you can practically flash a borrowed library card and they'll wave you in. That's so the guys will buy drinks for the girls, increasing the alcohol sales. Well, this might be an exaggeration: nowadays, they're getting much better at enforcing drinking laws. But sometimes, I still wonder whose side of the law the bouncers are on?

"Which freshman dorm do you live in?" I ask.

"Loring Hall."

"You're 18, right? Sorry, but I have to ask." (In hindsight, I should've demanded to see her i.d to make sure she wasn't lying! But she probably wouldn't show it to me even if I did ask. I'm wondering if I can ever believe a woman is being honest with me?)

"Right, I'm 18."

We chat. She's had a bit to drink as well, obviously. Perhaps more than a bit, she's acting a little tipsy as we talk.

Suddenly, I think we both hit a critical mass of drunkenness.

I looked past Deena's ear: her blonde friend was really laughing it up with her two companions.

"Well, your friend seems popular, tonight." I smirk.

"That's because she's got big tits. Wanna feel mine?" Before I can answer, she grabs my hand and stuffs it up her babydoll t-shirt. My jaw drops-open. She stuffed my hand up her shirt.

Okay, this chick is drunk off her ass. Still, she wants me to feel her-up. I gently rub her nipples. Why not, she says she's 18 and she's practically begging me to! Deena's chest is fairly flat, but there's a pair of patches of skin there worth touching.

She pulls me closer and in order to steady myself, I put my hand on the seat of her barstool, close to her butt.

"Hey, did you just put your hand on my ass?" She demands.

"No. Not on purpose, I didn't."

"Well, why dontcha start?" She shifted on the barstool and sat on my hand.

Oh, hell... why not? Normally I have zero women shoving my hand up their blouses. I've really lost my inhibitions. The spin is rooming! Why the hell can't I kiss this girl on the lips while I'm at it?

I plant one on her lips... she rams her tongue into my mouth and puts her hand behind my head! She slides right onto my lap. We are making-out in public like a pair of exhibitionist wild-cats! We should be ashamed of ourselves, but there's too much booze surging through my bloodstream for me to even care! People start cheering at us. I haven't kissed a woman in months, I'm going totally nuts. Our hands are madly wandering, groping, tugging... we must've looked like a multi-armed Tibetan statue. A guy slaps me on the back "Pump her full o' your twisted seed, dude!"

I hindsight, I realize: this chick was acting like a slut from hell and I should've been more careful. But, remember, I've got a liter of alcohol in me. And my hormones are carbonating. And I want to be with just about any woman, period.

She disengages her tongue from me. She turns to her blonde friend and speaks into her ear. I have no idea what she's saying, because the bar is too loud. The blonde nods. Deena hops-off the stool and yells at the blonde "-and bring the car out-front in a few minutes!"

She turns back to me. "Are you hot in here? I'm hot. Let's go outside."

"Sure, is your friend coming?" I ask, in a hazy stupor.

She grabs my wrist and we trot outside. I throw-on my coat.

In the Bushes.

Outside of the bar, there are parked cars up and down the street. And there are a few houses, too.

"Ooh, let's do it in the night air!" She laughs. We duck-into some bushes on a nearby lawn. Now, just because we're behind a bush, that doesn't mean we're invisible. If anything the bush is only 30% covering us. Good thing it's 2 AM and there aren't any people walking down the street.

Christ, I must be drunk-off my arse. There's snow on the ground and I don't feel it! I take-off my coat so she can lay-down on it. (This, by the way, is a $300 leather coat that I just put on the ground.)

"Okay, I'm going to lead you through this." She lies-back on my coat, unzips her jeans and guides my hand into her crotch. I start kissing her lips. She pulls away. "Let me give you a little lesson." She took my hand and probed it around her vulva. "Now, feel that little nub right here in front- that is called a 'clitoris'." She says this in a very patronizing voice. Yes, I know what a clitoris is! Sheesh! "Guys don't know this exists, so I'm doing you a favor by telling you."

She swabs my finger round and round. Sure, whatever gets her wet. I nervously look-around if there any police in sight. Don't wanna get busted for public indecency, tonight. If someone walked-by, they'd get a open view of her box.

"Oh, just like that! Hmmmm... keep doing that..." She put both her hands down by her sides and enjoyed the ride. Well, contrary to what she thinks, I do know what I'm doing. I start stimulating her in small circles, faster and faster.

Within seconds, she's moaning. "Oh, faster... faster..." she pants. After less than a minute, she arches her back and cries-out in orgasm. "Oh! Oh! Oh! Mmmmm! Oh!" She wipes her forehead. "Phew! That was nice..." She huffs and puffs. I start to unbuckle my jeans...

"It feels like you're ready now..." I slide my pants down my legs, but she looks at her watch.

She stands-up, zips-up her jeans.

"Anyways, thanks for that..." She says sharply.

"Hey, isn't it my turn? I've got a raging hard-on here!"

"No time! My friend and I have gotta leave now! Bye!" She hopped-out of the bushes and dashed down the block. I stand-up in the night air, dumbfounded. My head is swirling in booze-reinforced confusion. Wha? "What the hell!" I say aloud. I'm about to yell after her, but this is a sleeping neighborhood and I don't want to make any more noise than we've already made. I pull-up my pants and I hear a car-engine start. I have a nasty feeling that I've just been hoodwinked...

"GET THE FUCK OFF MY LAWN!" I suddenly hear from behind me. Grab my coat and flee into the night. Staggering. I must've looked ridiculous.

I'm too sloshed to drive, so I wander home on foot. I don't feel like dying in a car accident tonight.

I don't care what just happened. I just want to get into bed and forget about it all. My public behavior was shameful but... I didn't start the ball rolling!

If you think I was a dumb shit by letting her run-away, you're wrong. I was a smart shit by letting her do that. Imagine: when she began to run-away, if I'd grabbed her and been more forceful in trying to have sex with her, I'd would have been liable for attempted rape charges. If I'd chased her and the police saw me- man! She would've had me in a damn vulnerable position, and my life might've been totally fucked-up. She could say whatever she wanted to the police about what happened, and they would totally believe her! If I'd chased her and she'd yelled her bloody fool head-off, any male bystander would've intervened to kick my ass! The risks were just too great; this chick was unaccountable and unpredictable.

So it's a damn good thing I didn't move a muscle to stop her from running-off. There was nothing I could've done without getting into trouble because she could retreat to an invulnerable legal position! I had no rights! I had no legal ability to do anything but just stand there and shout after her! Why is that? Because they'd assume that she doesn't behave like anything less than a perfect little angel!

In hindsight, I know I did exactly the right thing. If I'd done anything after she ran-away, I'd be playing with fire. Holy crap, am I angry! Men are totally vulnerable in this sort of situation. The law does not work for us when this happens!

She obviously thinks that women can use men for sexual gratification, but she doesn't feel obliged to give any sexual gratification to men at all. See? My (male) sexual needs don't mean nearly as much as hers, so she's free to totally stiff me.

('Stiff' wasn't a pun, by the way.)

The Day After

The next day, I have a horrible, throbbing headache. I take a handful of aspirin and pray to God that my agony will cease.

"Kill me, God!" I moan at the ceiling. "Strike me down!" I put a cold compress over my eyes. "I don't believe in you, but I'll pay you to strike-down Deena first!"

By late afternoon, I feel better... and decide that I am going to have some serious words with that witch from last night! Yes, she was drunk and wasn't acting reasonably, but I'm mad as all get-out and I'm going to yell at her!

I pick-up the phone. I call Loring Hall dorm's front desk. I ask to be connected to Deena Prjywalsky. The receptionist says there's no name listed under that. Are you sure? Howabout 'Diana'? Nope. Howabout some other spelling- Dina? Dena? Howabout Prjywalsky, Prijivalsky- Prackafuckingwhoresky! or some other Polish name beginning with a P? Okay, howabout the same name for any other dormitory? Nothing?

Fuck! I slam-down the receiver. Then I slam it down again. Two. Three times. What the hell is wrong with her??!! What kind of fucking gleeful stunt has she played on me?!!

A woman gives me a false phone number or address- Christ, that has happened to me more than once! For crying out loud! What's a guy got to do for a little honesty?! There must be a flashing sign on my head that says "Lie to me! Cheat me! Take advantage of me! I don't know what a clitoris is!"

I felt like crawling into a hole and ripping-off handfuls of my own skin! Am I not supposed to feel bad about this experience??

I tell you... if Deena tried to pull this shit on some other guy... Imagine, if she'd picked-up some guy who is just a little bit more prone to violence than I am... he might've run her down and KNOCKED HER SMUG LITTLE BLOCK-OFF!

And then, he'd go to jail for assault.

And then, Deena would be free to pull this shit on some other guy.

Ladies, we're trying to have a civilization, here! We live in a society where a woman can suddenly run-up to a man, gleefully punch him in the face for fun, and run-off giggling. And there's not a damn thing the man can do about it without getting his ass into trouble.

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"If she be passionate, want of manners makes her a termagant and a scold, which is much at one with Lunatic." -- Daniel Defoe, On the Education of Women, (1719)

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