It was the night of my 18th birthday. All my cousins
were buzzin. My brother Albert thought it would be nice to break my club-ginity
and take me out. Yeah….smart idea. What followed was just horrendous to say the
least.
Fast forward to 12:30am. We were partying in Kingston….well
my cousins and brother was. I was at the bar with my friend James talking about
how my legs are were more stiff than golf clubs so I couldn't bust a move to
save my life. me and him were having a bit of banter and s**t and out of
nowhere, I hear a feminine voice behind me. I couldn't make out the words
because the music was loud so I turned around and….well I got a face full of
cleavage. I was having a staring contest with the twins. Because I’m short and
this woman was tall PLUS wearing high heels….you can’t blame me bro. they were literally
adjacent to my eye level, obviously she took that the wrong way and gave me the
kind of look you give to your parents when you find out you’re adopted. She didn't say anything….thankfully….but I could tell she was holding her tongue from
giving me a verbal beat down. Just hours
into my first night out I was branded a perverted smurf. greeeeeat.
But there was dustbin woman…
Yeah I immortalized her in my memory with that nickname
because the only thing I remember from that lady is that she stunk of ONIONS
and BALLSWEAT. At this time I was waved(drunk). I was playing chemistry with
shots. Getting shots, pouring it into a big glass and downing it. you’re
probably thinking “that was a smart move dipshit” it was. it got me dancing. I was
moving like I was Charlie sheen m**********r. Buuuuuuuuuut that only led to
more heartache. QUE THE DUSTBIN WOMAN! For some reason she gravitated towards me
and started whining(er…I don’t know what Americans call this. Grinding?) on me.
there were two problems with this.
1.
She barely had anything on and Tina the talking
belly was making sure she was noticed.
And
2.
She stunk….remember?
Didn't take me long to realize I was
knee deep in a foul a*s puddle of s**t. I was out of there faster than a Kenyan
chasing a lunch ticket. No way am I being caught dancing with her….IN THE
MIDDLE OF A CLUB. Eh….but I did get caught. My brother saw everything….and
asked when the wedding day was. FML. All from 1 freaking night man. 1. FREAKING.
NIGHT.