Between nursing a serious crush on Arrested Development, 234897 barbecues, flying to Columbus and getting my identity stolen, I was accused of something completely and utterly heinous.
Yeah, I know. Me. Of Bachelor Party, Hustler Club, skinny dipping with an entire British hockey team fame.
And like everything else in my life this accusation revolves around sex. Because I actually refused it, not once, but twice recently.
Yeah, I know. Me. Of I will sleep with someone purely because they have an accent, Wedding Matritution fame.
The boys and I went out to see my friend's band play and after wandering off from my group, I gained entrance into the dancing trust circle of some guys I had met. I spent awhile conversing/dancing/singing with their leader but got distracted as he was asking for my number when my friend finished his last set and jumped offstage. So I completely left random guy, staring after me, most likely in mid-sentence or at the very least mid phone flip as I launched myself into the arms of my friend B.
After stumbling out of the bar around 3am, the boys had this to say:
Z: We totally thought you were gonna bone that guy.
Lola: Wait. What? I don't always go around boning guys.
Z: Let's go with statistical analysis on that one.
Kane: (whispers) Whore.
Lola: First, no one trusts me to be designated driver-
Z: You were drinking tequila at the time-
Lola: (ignoring Z)- And then everyone assumes I'm just going to sleep with random guys every weekend. (shouting now) I am not an alcoholic sex fiend! (cue many, many drunken catcalls from the alleyways)
Kane: (whispers) Whore.
The second incident involves a guy I had met a little while ago and we briefly dated (sort of). Someone got a little more serious (him) and someone ran away (me) and someone (him) decided to cool things off because someone was also dating other people at the time (me). Something occured recently (alcohol) in which the situation changed a bit (alcohol) and we ended up in a place (alcohol) where we almost hooked up. And it was me who stopped anything before it started. Yup. Me.
I explained both incidences to a girlfriend of mine over the phone as I was running errands. She chalked the first one up to always putting my friends above "boning" but she was entirely too interested in the second one for my taste. In fact, I believe the first words she said were,"Awww, look at you caring about someone else's feelings."
I responded by making loud vomit noises. In front of two children, who had taken that moment to sneak up behind me as I was loading up my basket full of Cherry Coke and Cinnamon Toast Crunch. They looked horrified.
I gave the children a half-hearted apologetic shrug and focused back to my friend on the phone, who was now saying, "Wow, I'm so proud. My little Lola is finally growing up and being mature."
I responded to this last one a bit more violently by declaring: "Just for that, I am so going to sleep with the next random guy who walks by!" Which happened to be a 70 year old man, as I was in the pharmacy section of CVS at the time.
Ok, so maybe maturity was a bit of a stretch.