Ladies Night

One day in the life of a man who tends to naturally attract women. Though his self resentments and devil may care attitude seem to work against him.

I feel empty and unfulfilled.

                So I take the drugs Wilson has given me--Dramamine.

                I am told pregnant women use it to prevent vertigo.

                I’m not sure what I’ve just done.

                I go to work at 8 o’clock on the dot--P.M that is.

                It’s hot--Thailand always is, but the evening breeze is always refreshing and gives some relief to the contrasting stickiness of the mornings and afternoons.

                It is Sunday--ladies night, so I am dressed as a woman to promote the bar that I work for.

                I stand at a street corner dressed in high-waist jean shorts, a neon green bikini top, nail polish, mascara, and blush.

                I hand out fliers which promote my bar.

                I have no shame.

At this point in my life I don’t know what shame is. It’s something dogs have when they stick there tail between their legs.

                But I am a man; so I must have evolved beyond shame.

                I can feel the Dramamine now.

                I am becoming self-aware and shame seems a lot more real.

                I begin to feel waves of hot and cold circulating through my body and I begin to feel slightly nauseous,

but I still drink from a bucket consisting of rice vodka and syrupy sludge which is marketed as the ever popular “Red Bull”.

                It taste like s**t--obviously the Red Bull, but the whole concoction in general. 

                I finish my street promotions which usually consist of talking to absolutely anyone on the street and giving the shy ones a chance to jump out of their shell, but tonight I have fanned myself with a wad of freshly printed flyers and have told at least three people to go f**k themselves.

                I am emotional and moody and I’m wondering if I have more in common with a pregnant woman than just the self-medication of anti-deliriums.

                --Doubtful.

                I am now at the beach front with the ocean breeze attempting to sober me from my obviously intoxicated state.

                I look at Wilson he looks back at me.

                We haven’t spoken in almost 2 hours since we both took this awful drug.

                He makes a remark about how time has never felt so slow.

                I make a remark suggesting that there are more people than usual staring at us.

                We agree with one another’s statements, but quickly become rational; deducing that it’s simply the delusions and paranoia of this random drug that is making us feel so strange.

                But then I remember what I’m wearing. I look like a mad doe eyed lesbian from spring break 1989.

                I was fucked from the get go.

                Whether I decided to take the Dramamine or not I still made a very conscious decision to squeeze into my Brazilian girlfriend’s size two shorts, which did not fit around my hips so I pulled them up to my ribs and called them a pair of high waisters.

                I live in a dorm. People see what I’m doing"why don’t people stop me?

                I am now entertaining the masses of vacationers who flood our beach front bar every night. I have drunk enough Thai vodka to counteract the self-conscious side effects of the Dramamine.

                However it is still quite evident that time is hardly moving forward.

                I catch Wilson’s eye from across the crowd.

                We both know what the other is thinking.

                I meet him at the shore line and we smoke a joint.

                I slowly wade into the water.

                I have not done this before"wade into the water.

                In fact I don’t go into this water at all.

                I know better. I know that there is a very real and very raw sewage runoff that flows directly into this bay--and yet I do it anyways.

                I return to the bar fifteen minutes later--f**k.

                It feels like I have been gone an hour.

                I am aggravated, but at nothing specifically.

                I am confused.

                I once again I begin to take notice at all the wondering eyes which seem to eventually fall directly on me.

                It seems to be fewer women and more men.

                I am concerned--genuinely.

                Why are all these men looking at me?

                I ignore it though and try to throw myself back into the party’s atmosphere.

                I catch the glance of a very pretty young brunette, which only reminds me of my girlfriend, Liz.

                I realise I have not spoken with Liz once tonight, not since I pillaged her wardrobe for ridiculously fitting Latin influenced garments.

                I gaze around the crowd to see if I might catch her eye--nope.

                Just a young model-esk looking man, whom I am well aware has exchanged glances with me three times now.

                This time the eye contact is too long.

                I hold the contact. I must remain dominant.

                But I don’t think dominance is this guy’s thing.

                In fact he is blatantly eye f*****g me.

                I look away.

                He’s won.

                I see Liz.

                She is dancing on stage with Megan, a girlfriend of ours who also lives in the dorm.

                I can see them whispering to one another and laughing as they reach into the crowd and pull up the very pretty looking man.

                Oh, great, It’s the guy who just eye fucked me. What’s he doing with Liz I wonder.

                From across the party Liz makes direct eye contact with me.

                She’s obviously been clocking me the entire night.

                Not hard to keep track of your boyfriend when he’s on some sort of secret female acid and running around in a bikini.

                I wonder, is she trying to make me jealous?

                It’s working if she is.

                But why would she do that to me, she knows I’m tripping my t*****s off right now.

                Part of me wonders if it has anything to do with me breaking up with her for a three day stint while I had that small affair with that Swede.

                Then I have a brief self -realisation that I’m an a*****e.

                So now I’m an a*****e--well, I have to fix that.

                I walk straight though the party towards Liz, and Megan, and Mr. googly eyes.

                I take Liz by the hand and she comes with me.

                I bring her to the beach and I tell her that the Dramamine is making me crazy and to please not try to make me jealous tonight.

                She seems confused.

                Now I’m confused.

                I question her intentions with the pretty boy.

                She giggles.

                She tells me she met him once when he worked as an exotic dancer in Singapore.

                Sounds made up, but I continue to listen.

                She goes onto tell me that Megan has been trying to get with him all night but hasn’t had any luck.

                I ask her why she thinks that is.               

                She says he had a boyfriend in Singapore and they would make out on stage at the exotic lounge.

                I am comforted, because I am selfish.

                Megan looks at me as Liz and I continue to stand at the shore with our hands intertwined.

                She runs over and asks Liz why she isn’t helping her with the pretty boy anymore.

                Liz looks at me for a moment then hesitates.

                What is it? Asks Toni.

                Liz tells Toni that the pretty boy is gay.

                Megan can’t believe it. She refused to believe it.

                Then I begin to think more about the copious amounts of eye contact I have had with the pretty boy throughout the night.

                I realise it wasn’t drug induced paranoia.

                I let out a breath of relief, comforted by the knowledge that I am not losing my mind.

                I look at Toni; I can see she still thinks she has a chance with this guy.

                I want Liz to myself now though; so I break it to Megan.

                He’s gay.

                She asks me how I could possibly know that.

                Believe me I tell her--he’s gay.