“I Was Wearing Too Many Clothes, So He Pulled Down My Underpants”
Today, part II in the saga of “Georgiana,” whom we last saw cavorting with her boss in a pair of thigh-high suede boots. A year or two later, she was single and extending her undergraduate education by taking classes at Columbia.
Georgiana says this story is one of gratification “oddly deferred.” It began with a flirtation between her and a guy in her 19th Century American Lit class. She was 30 or 31, and most of her fellow students were significantly younger than her, but “Abraham” was close to her age. She thought he was hot, and he became her smoking-break partner, so they spent some time each week flirting and joking around. Don’t you envy smokers all that rapport they get to have with each other? The non-smokers were probably sitting in the classroom, having a stilted conversation with the professor about William Dean Howells, while these two were out maximizing their break time.
For months, she and Abraham were content to remain break buddies. (She says he was “crazy” and had a whole fucked-up life, which is probably why she didn’t see him as boyfriend material.) Finally, this changed on the last day of the semester. Everyone had decided to go out and celebrate after class ended, and since it met in the evening, they walked directly from school to the West End bar. Georgiana and Abraham ended up walking together; the rest of the class got a head start, probably because of the smoking.
By the way, she was wearing a gray wife-beater, a twill miniskirt, and Frye leather motorcycle boots, all of which were really old and ratty.
As they were happily walking along, “the heavens opened” and rain started pouring down. They retreated into an alcove on the Columbia campus to wait it out. “So we start making out.” They were totally having fun necking in this alcove, but finally the rain let up and it was time to leave and head over to the bar. When they got there, it was “completely obvious” what they had been up to from their dishevelled appearance. They did their best to seem normal (the professor was there), but in between drinks they kept dashing off to fool around by the phone in the back. Obviously, they were drinking shots of tequila and Wild Turkey, which they don’t call “the crazy bird” for nothing.
Then, the unthinkable happened: The West End ran out of tequila and Wild Turkey. Georgiana says this isn’t because they drank it all, but rather that supplies were already running low. It was clearly time to go to another bar. By the time they got there, their making out had escalated to such a degree that “if we could be having sex in the bar, we would have.” I pointed out that if they were gay dudes in a gay bar, they could have done this! She says that actually, they sort of tried to — the bar had an unusually clean and spacious bathroom — but the bouncer yelled at them not to be doing that.
Surprisingly, they didn’t get kicked out, but were allowed to roam free in the bar. Shortly afterward, Abraham decided she was wearing too many clothes, “so he bends down and pulls down my underpants.” This garnered them a shocked look from a fellow patron who was “terribly offended that this person had removed my underwear within six inches of her.” Georgiana’s tone of voice makes this reaction sound totally unreasonable.
Maybe Georiana and Abraham decided they concluded that they weren’t wanted in the bar, or maybe it just got too stuffy in there, but at this point they took their show outside. They were free of the underwear’s repressive influence, and all things were permissible! He kneeled down in front of her and they basically started doing full-on cunnilingus with her leaned up against a dry cleaner’s. I’ve never lived in New York, so I don’t know if this kind of thing still goes on there. Is this urban chaos what people mean when they talk about people missing “the old New York”?
At last, it was time to get in Abraham’s car and go back to his apartment. You know, people talk a lot of shit about driving drunk, but when you’re going home with someone at the end of a night, it’s really useful. You can complete the process in a fluid series of steps and you don’t have to deal with someone having second thoughts or whatever while you’re waiting for a cab, all like “I don’t know, I have a Hot Yoga class tomorrow morning at 8, maybe I’d better get to sleep.” Also, you don’t have to be waking up at 2:00 in the afternoon and finding out that your car is halfway across town with like 7,000 parking tickets. Abraham was clearly a chivalrous fellow, and did a great job of getting her home safely. Maybe there should be some sort of permit available for skilled drunk drivers like him. I want one too.
That night, they had “lots of oral sex” but no plain old intercourse. The next day they had lots of phone sex, but she told him she didn’t want to date because “you’re too fucked up for me to be with.” Months passed, and she didn’t see him. Finally, he called her on Thanksgiving day and asked what she was up to. Wanting to find out what she had missed the first time, she invited him over. Another happy ending: “He was really good in bed.”