Wild Night

Tonight marked the second night of my brief respite in Atlanta, and I believe it was also one of the strangest nights of my life.

I'm not sure how it happened, really. The plan was merely to have drinks at the local pub, but things quickly devolved. The night began with a shared drink outside; my friends and I talked about our personal lives, Lou Dobbs--don't ask--and E-Harmony.com--again, don't ask. Unfortunately, while the conversation was good, the seating arrangement left much to be desired, as we were sitting on benches that lacked proper back support. I suggested that we move to a newly abandoned table so that we could have more comfortable seating, and in so doing, I sealed my fate.

As we sat at the table, we were briefly accosted by a couple of (older) women at the neighboring table who insisted that we not block the fan that was positioned near our table. We took pains to position ourselves in such a way as to allow for proper airflow, and our neighbors appreciated our kindness. So much so, in fact, that they proceeded to ask for our names and whatever relevant background information we could offer. My friends and I, unsuspecting of any ulterior motive, were pleased to oblige, and for a moment, it appeared that the women would go on with their conversation and leave us to ours. We were mistaken, sorely.

As it turns out, the women were far more interested in our conversation than in whatever conversation they were having before we arrived. They were clearly quite a bit older than we--I would estimate their age to be around 40, give or take 5 years--and they were eager to tell us about their lives. Early on, we learned that both were single, having both divorced their husbands in the past few years. One worked for the telephone company, the other for a senior citizens' community center. My friends and I shared a bit about our lives, and as the conversation progressed, it became clear that one of the two women--the larger and seemingly, at least based on appearance, older one--had more than conversation in mind, and I was her target.

The signs were clear enough: twirling of hair, exclusive focus, and flirtatious comments. She told me that I was "so funny," "so cute," and "so full of shit." Little did she know that only the last is true. I did my best to parry and fend off her amorous compliments, all to no avail. A couple of my friends, sensing the ensuing hilarity, quickly readied their iPhones to record the action as it unfolded. Slowly but surely, the woman edged closer--first, she began playing with my hair, then she moved to a gentle caress of my shoulder, proceeding to my leg and chest. I continued to attempt to engage with the group, deflecting whatever compliments and flirtation came my way, but it was futile--the die had been cast.

"You can do whatever you want to me," she said, and sensing her sincerity, I cringed. "I'm going to kiss you," she declared, and I told her that first dates always have me nervous and that it would be best to wait until our second date to proceed to any serious physical contact--futile once again. I told her that I was probably too young for her, that she didn't mean the things she was saying, that she was clearly some sort of flatterer--all for naught.

After countless--and feeble--attempts to defuse the situation, she eventually arose from the comfort of her chair, straddled me, and kissed me. The flavor was unlike any other I'd encountered before: It tasted of Parliaments and Corona, two flavors I'm not particularly fond of, made that much worse in combination. Repulsed, I told her that she had gotten her one kiss and would need to wait for anything more. She then excused herself from the table and ran out the back door of the bar. Several people got up from the table to go find her, but they came up empty-handed. The tranquility was short-lived, however, as she returned about 20 minutes later. (As it turns out, she had retreated to a nearby alley--to urinate. Yes, I attract the classiest of ladies.)

Of course, the night did not end there, and several more pictures and videos were taken to document my misery. Suffice it to say that I need to find new friends.