Fellow Escapists, please gather around for Story-time with Oldskool, as I share the interesting (to me), thrilling (also to me), uncomfortable (to most of the population), and almost certainly fictional tale of...
Perhaps the saddest part of the story is this: I may or may not have actually had sex with the girl.
It all began with a family vacation to North Carolina. Being one of the older children, I was trusted to go off on my own so long as I didn't do anything illegal. Walking along the beach one night, I happened across a bonfire surrounded by merry Southern revelers, and North Carolina being that sort of state, they invited me for a drink, which I happily took. Several times, in fact. As the night went on, I began chatting up a truly stunning redhead who seemed to be pretty into me. Being at this point too inebriated to form a creative or coherent description, all I could think was that she looked like Lily Cole. I reasoned that if I could just drink a bit more, I might unlock the sort of Hemingway-cum-Byron poetic genius that only comes to drunks. Long story short, I blacked out. When I came to in the morning, I found myself stark naked, entangled with said redhead. As I mentioned, she looked like Lily Cole the night before. But now, in the cold light of sobriety- my God.
She still looked like Lily Cole.
There was a minor hangup there, though.
You see, when she was drunk, she though I looked like Kurt Cobain.
I really, really don't.
So, she started to freak out- and so did I, because I didn't recognize the place and I assumed there were male relatives nearby who would be very interested to know I'd just plowed their daughter/sister/cousin/whatever. After she got a few articles of clothing on, though, I noticed that she was going for the window. "What are you doing?" I asked. "This is your house, isn't it?"
"No" she says. "This is your house.
I look around. And I realize with stark horror:
This is my little cousin's room.
By some brilliant freak coincidence he'd gone to bed with my aunt and uncle that night, so we weren't caught.
She still looked like Lily Cole.
There was a minor hangup there, though.
You see, when she was drunk, she though I looked like Kurt Cobain.
I really, really don't.
So, she started to freak out- and so did I, because I didn't recognize the place and I assumed there were male relatives nearby who would be very interested to know I'd just plowed their daughter/sister/cousin/whatever. After she got a few articles of clothing on, though, I noticed that she was going for the window. "What are you doing?" I asked. "This is your house, isn't it?"
"No" she says. "This is your house.
I look around. And I realize with stark horror:
This is my little cousin's room.
By some brilliant freak coincidence he'd gone to bed with my aunt and uncle that night, so we weren't caught.
Perhaps the saddest part of the story is this: I may or may not have actually had sex with the girl.
