I say again, once was enough

So I finally managed to finish this meme. I've all ready posted the first half of the 10 experiences I'd rather not repeat. I meant to finish this earlier, but it took a lot longer than I had planned. As you may have noticed, some of my posts are very long, but I've tried to keep only the essentials. I've had to change a few things, because the truth is, there really are a lot of experiences that I'd rather not repeat (and wish I could forget). And I admit that I debated over how much of my personal life I could disclose while still maintaining some semblance of anonymity. Weird, right? But in the spirit of good fun, here are the last 5 of the 10 experiences I'd rather not repeat:

6) Being hassled by the cops.

I may have mentioned this before. I've run into trouble with the law a few times. Once, I kept putting off doing the laundry, because I was lazy and I was out of detergent. Then I realized that I had no more clean clothes, and I had to work the next day. So I put on the only clean clothes I had--an old white T shirt, shrunken to a size too small, and an old pair of tight faded jeans with holes and tears along the thighs and below the back pockets. I lived in a shady part of town, and I had to walk to the convenience store to buy some laundry detergent. During my leisurely stroll to the store, a patrol car pulled over and the policemen stopped me for questioning. I was almost arrested, because the cops mistook me for a prostitute!

7) Hanging out with a friend's idiotic husband.

I was in Las Vegas with some friends. One of them decided to bring her husband along. He was the odd one out; everyone else knew each other. So, being the nice guy (and idiot) that I was, I decided to make an effort to get to know him and help him feel at ease in the group. And it was no easy feat, because this guy was standoffish and didn't want to go out clubbing or see a show like the rest of us.

That first night in Vegas, we walked towards the Strip. On the way, we came across a strip club that advertised a 'Free' show. The husband wanted to go in; he said that he often frequented strip clubs. I tried to tell him that there's no such thing as a 'Free' strip show. You're going to pay one way or another. No one else wanted to go in, but the husband was adamant that we should go inside the dingy old building with the blacked out, filthy windows. Finally, someone said that if we were going to split up, then we ought to meet up in an hour at Treasure Island.

Everyone else started walking again, except for the husband who looked at his wife to see if she was going inside the club with him. She wasn't. Then, the dude just went towards the entrance, and left us standing outside. My friend was upset, so I sighed and told her to go with group, and I'll go inside and make sure her (stupid) husband would be okay.

He was waiting for me by the door, tapping his foot impatiently--talk about rude! And while we didn't pay an entrance fee, there was a two drink minimum. And he didn't have any cash or credit cards on him--his wife was holding their money! So I had to pay for his two drinks. I was pissed off because I didn't want to be inside in the first place! I was also the designated driver, so I couldn't order any liquor. Instead, I ended up paying $20 for my two glasses of watered down Coke!

It reeked inside the club--cigarette smoke and some sort of heavy floral scent that failed to cover the old, musty stink of odors whose origins I'd rather not think about. The dimmed lights did little to hide the scarred, tired bodies of dancers way past their prime, who couldn't dance or were just too wasted to give a damn. Not even their clear heels and glow in the dark G strings could make them look appealing. We stayed for ten minutes--long enough for me to finish my Coke flavored ice water. After that, I stopped trying to please that jackass. Instead, I spent the rest of the time doing what I wanted and enjoying Las Vegas.

8) Being present at childbirth.

No matter what anyone says, there's nothing beautiful about childbirth. A friend asked me to be with her in the delivery room while she gave birth. It was the most disgusting thing I've ever seen! There is nothing beautiful about giving birth. It is horrible, for everyone involved!

She was moody and ranting and angry like she was possessed! She kept yelling 'Hold my hand!', 'Don't touch me!', 'Don't leave me!' over and over again. I was thinking, Make up your mind you crazy woman! Every time she screamed, I felt her pain! I cringed. I kept thinking, Did they give her enough drugs? Seriously? And is there anyway they could give me some drugs? And she was squeezing my hand really hard. But the truly terrifying part was watching that baby start to come out!

It was like that movie Aliens, where the parasite bursts forth from the human host. When that baby started crowning, it was horrible! Just ghastly! Her secret lady place started to swell, then it began to rip apart as this round object started to make its exit! It was awful and terrifying to watch that baby bust its way out of such a tiny space! First came the head, and it was covered with a disgusting film of body fluids and human tissue. Then a shoulder and an arm came out and then a pause. For a chilling moment, I thought, Good lord! It's stuck! Then a few more pushes and the whole baby just slid right out. And it looked revolting covered in grime and fluids that I'd rather not think about.

But the horror didn't stop there. Oh no. I was trying not to think about how her secret lady place would never be the same after that trauma. Suddenly, this shiny wet sac of meat just slid out of her! It was the afterbirth. No one told me about the afterbirth! I mean, I knew that babies came out of the vajayjay during birth, but no one warned me about the afterbirth! It was repulsive! I thought, Oh my gawd! Her insides have fallen out!

After seeing that, I knew that I would never, ever want to be there during a childbirth again. No, thank you. The real miracle of childbirth is that women still want to have babies and push them out the natural way. I'm a big fan of the C section now. I understand now why it is women who bear the children. Because if it was up to men, the human species would've been extinct a long time ago! Whoever said that childbirth was a beautiful experience is either lying or high on drugs!

9) Getting a sports physical.

When I was in high school, I underwent a sports physical. It was a very disturbing experience. For one thing, we were all lined up in our underpants. Then we were told to drop them while the doctor grabbed our nuts and told us to turn our heads and cough. But when that doctor put on his gloves and told us to bend over and spread 'em, I was like, I don't think so! What is this, prison? This ain't no private boarding school for boys !

I said, "No, thanks. I've had enough." And when the coach asked me what the problem was, I said, "Y'all ready done felt up my jewels and it was completely unsatisfactory on my end. So unless someone's buying me dinner and getting me off, there ain't going to be any poking and probing!"

Hey, I don't drop my pants just for anyone, ya know.

10) Getting way too drunk.

When I was younger, I was kind of wild. I was living with a bunch of other guys my age. We worked just so we'd have money to party. I didn't realize that I was such a drunk until years later. But I do remember when I decided to be more prudent when it came to drinking. We went to Spring Break. All we did was go to the beach, go to bars and clubs, try to hook up with other Spring Breakers and just drink, drink, and drink. It was a fun week.

One morning, I woke up, feeling sore all over. It took me a few minutes to realize that I didn't recognize the room, and there were strangers sleeping in the bed with me! I was kind of freaked out, but then I told myself, well, I'm alive, so that's good. The clock on the bedside table showed it was just past seven in the morning. I was really sore and cramped and struggled to sit up. I hurt all over. Then I realized that I was nekkid! I found my underpants and shorts on the floor, but I couldn't put on my shirt because it was dirty and smelled like cigarettes and alcohol. My pockets were empty. I thought about using the bathroom to wash up, but there was someone passed out in the doorway. I made my way to the door and exited quietly, which was hard to do, considering every move I made caused my back to ache and burn all over.

I tried to find my way back to our hotel; people were staring at me, some gasping, others shook their heads disapprovingly. I bet I looked like a mess; I sure felt like a mess. But I tried to maintain some semblance of dignity, held my head up high, and refused to acknowledge that I was undertaking the walk of shame. When I finally found our hotel, I pounded on the door and hoped one of the guys was there to let me in. They let me in and asked what the hell happened to me. I told them that I had no clue, as my memory was a little fuzzy. They laughed at that; and when I said that my back was hurting, they laughed even harder. I didn't see what was so funny, so they told me to look in the mirror. I did, and while I did look like a mess, it was nothing they hadn't seen before. But then they said, turn around and look at your back in the mirror. So I did, and I was shocked to see welts, beginning bruises, and some long scratches all over my back! What the hell? Did I get hit by a bus?

My friends refreshed my memory of the previous day's events. We went to the beach, started drinking, met some girls, and hung out with them for a while. Then the girls wanted to go clubbing. So we skipped dinner, went home for a quick change and met the girls at the club, where we proceeded to drink some more. Apparently, I had lots of shots when I wasn't dancing. Then one of the girls joined a wet T shirt contest. And I had a few more drinks and was easily convinced to join the wet undies contest, where I won a $200 to spend on more drinks. Then we went to the girls place and had a good time. And when we left to go back to our place, I had the brilliant idea to spend the rest of prize money on more alcohol. Along the way, we started rough housing. Then I had them carry me on their shoulders for laughs, except they dropped me on my back; and when they let me down to walk some steps, I lost my footing, fell back and slid down some steps (That explained the welts and bruising). I just got back up and laughed with them before we found a club, where we had more drinks, more dancing, and more laughs. I ended up making out with a drunk chick, who fondled me in public view, then let me take off her underwear to add to the collection of undies on the bar wall before we disappeared together.

Good lord, was I embarrassed after my friends finished telling me! It also made some fuzzy memories make sense. That dream where I was in my undies in public in a compromising position, yeah, not really a dream. I remember thinking it had felt good when it rained, except it didn't rain. It was pitchers of water being poured on me during the wet undies contest. After that, I decided to be a lot more discreet when it came to drinking.



And that's it. The rest of the meme, the 10 experiences that I'd rather not repeat. I kind of wish I didn't have some of them in the first place. But I'd like to think of them as life lessons. And some things are best learned the hard way.


 Related Links:
The Boys of Summer
Brothers and Sisters
Once was enough
The Good Intentioned Samaritan
The thing about fathers
Veterans Day reflection
Soda Pop