Making Out with a Murderer

Note: This post is extremely long and for that I apologize.

Our last night in Vegas, my friend and I went to this all-white nightclub called Pure. (Note: "all-white" refers to the furniture and fixtures, not the people). We had a great time but the music started to take a turn for the techno so we left around 1:30. We went back to our hotel and made a last minute decision to stop by LAX again to get a few more dances in before tapping out for the night. While at the club, these two guys approached us. Their names? Freddy and Jason.

Yes, like the killers in the movies!! I am not making this up!

I hit it off with Freddy and my friend hit it off with Jason, both of whom were from New York. Freddy was cuter, but Jason was more my type (go figure. I hate myself and my standards). We danced and chatted with them for an hour or so, and I got the impression they wanted to leave with us and possibly come back to our rooms to "hang out". There was no way in hell I was going to hook up with this guy I'd just met, so I told my friend that I was going to head out while they were paying their bar tab to avoid the awkward "sorry, I don't want to sleep with you" convo that was inevitable. She told me that was rude, so I stuck around for awhile. They came back and Freddy asked me what we were doing afterwards. Instead of responding like a normal, mature human being and making it clear that I didn't want to hang out afterwards, I did the first thing that came to mind.

I sprinted out of the club.

I ran so fast that security thought I was trying to ditch my tab and followed me out of the club. Through her laughter, my friend told them I was fine and wasn't trying to drink-n-dash. She, Freddy, and Jason briskly walked through the hotel to catch up with me but they were no match. I made it onto the elevator when I heard Freddy yell "hold the door!" and this stupid broad who was in there with me held the door so the three of them could get on. The whole 12-floor ride up to our room Freddy asked me why I was trying to avoid them. Again, I did the first thing that came to mind.

I told him I was a "sweet Southern virgin" and that I didn't want to get his hopes up that something sexual would happen between us later. Half true; I'll let you guys decide which half.

Freddy Krueger and The Sweet Southern Virgin. Sounds like a children's book, no?

He was nice about it and actually ended up being a really cool guy. The four of us hung out in our hotel room, drinking and talking until about 5 a.m. Even though Freddy was "my" guy, my friend was definitely hitting it off with him more and I was hitting it off with Jason more. A little after 5, I passed out mid-conversation because I was exhausted.

Around 5:45, I woke up to a pitch black room and Freddy kissing me. I was irritated that he woke me up from my sleep but didn't really mind the kissing. His lips and hands started to drift but I quickly smacked them away (I'm a virgin, remember?) and then he asked if I wanted him to leave to which I responded yes. As I rolled over to go back to sleep, I looked over and saw my friend hooking up with Jason. I thought it was kind of odd that she was hooking up with him since she didn't seem that into him but didn't give it much thought.

The next morning my friend and I were lounging around, nursing hangovers and debating where to go for lunch. I made a comment about how I was surprised that she hooked up with Jason. This was the conversation that followed:

Her: I didn't hook up with Jason.
Me: WHO DID YOU HOOK UP WITH?!?! I saw a guy in your bed!!!
Her: Freddy!
Me: But Freddy was in my bed last night.
Her: No, Freddy was in my bed. Jason was in your bed.
Me: WHAAAAAAAT?!?!?!
Her: You didn't realize that was Jason?
Me: No!
Her: Yeah well after you went to sleep we discussed how Freddy and I were more compatible and you and Jason were more compatible, so we decided to switch.
Me: *blank stare*

It's been over 24 hours and I am still completely befuddled by the whole situation. What the hell, Vegas. What. The. Hell.

Chippy

A friend and I went to Las Vegas for the weekend for no actual reason except that we like to party and travel. We stayed at the Luxor, the big pyramid hotel that you see in movies and whatnot (fun fact: since the hotel walls are diagonal the elevator moves diagonally, which is fun when you're sober and scary as hell when you're not).

After going to the Lady Gaga concert (which was incredible, by the way) we went to this club in our hotel called LAX. It was absolutely insane in the best possible way. Great music, free entry, and most importantly, open bar for women from 10-12. We'd been there for about two hours when these two guys approached us. The taller, cuter one approached my friend and the shorter, harder-on-the-eyes one approached me. Shocker.

Anyone who knows me knows I am WAY too nice to guys who approach me. What can I say, I have a big heart. It takes a lot of courage to approach a sexy lady like myself so I feel bad turning guys down. I'll start being more selective in 2014. Maybe.

 

This picture has no relevance whatsoever and was actually taken on a different night than the night this blog is about, I just really like it.

This guy introduced himself to me as BJ and since I'm mature I immediately thought blow job and wondered if this was his way of asking me to give him one. The more I talked to him, though, the more I realized he'd probably never gotten a blowie in his life and definitely wasn't going to get one that night.

He first told me I was beautiful, naturally beautiful, because I didn't have on any make-up. I had on eyeliner, mascara, concealer, and lip gloss but I let it go. Next, he told me he loved my "naturally curly" hair. I'd spent 30 minutes straightening it before going out. Basically this kid was already 0-for-2 and continued to get worse from there.

He then told me I had a beautiful smile. I smiled in response...and then he said, "Wait. Do you have a chipped tooth?!" which caught me COMPLETELY off guard. (For those of you who don't know, I chipped my front tooth when I was 13 on a class trip to DC. A classmate named Colin was chasing me around our hotel and when he caught up with me he accidentally pushed my head into a glass window and my front tooth broke off in my hand. The moral of this story is chase guys, don't let them chase you. After the incident, one of my 8th grade teachers nicknamed me "Chippy", a nickname that I looooove and never got sick of*).

 

Relevant photo from the night.

Back to BJ. After I got over the shock of being asked about my tooth, I told him yeah, I'd chipped it awhile ago but had also gotten it fixed awhile ago too. He grinned wide and said, "Me too!!!! Look!" I pretended to see it and nodded politely, mustering up an "Oh wow!" and giving my friend "SAVE ME" eyes. Next, BJ told me I reminded him of his mother because I was genuine and naturally pretty (here we go again). He then pulled out his cell phone to show me pictures of his mother and told me she had breast cancer and that he was afraid of losing another parent because his dad died when he was younger.

Before you start to a) feel sorry for him and b) think I'm a bad person for exploiting him on this blog, keep it mind it was roughly 2 a.m. when this conversation took place and this club was packed. 'Twas not the time nor the place. I was sympathetic (well, as sympathetic as one can be with "Back That Ass Up" playing in the background) and even gave him my number. He asked me if I could send him a pic of me in my "Cruella deVille" dress to which I responded no.  His next question: are you on Instagram? Being the wonderful person that I am, I gave him my Instagram name and he followed me right then and there. Don't worry, I blocked him the next morning.

Last thing: when I saved his number in my phone I saved it as "BJ". He said, "Uhhh actually my name is Deron. People call me DJ for short though." Oops.


*This is a lie. That nickname still haunts me to this day.