A Hard Day's Night

Some nights are like eating a chopped salad: everything's already diced up into bite-sized pieces for you, it's nutritionally balanced, and as you chew, there's a pleasing array of sensations in your mouth...in a simple, cool, manageable kinda way.

Some nights are more like eating a sloppy, saucy, rich, and messy spaghetti bolognese...there's only one way to eat the bolognese, and that is to THROW CAUTION TO THE WIND, PULL YOUR HAIR BACK AND DIVE THE FUCK IN. You might end up with a big fucking mess, and it might get a little out of control, but you gotta go for it. You gotta really go for it.

Last night was one of those nights.

It's hard to know where to begin, so here are some highlights:

1. I ran into an old high school classmate whom I had not seen for 16 years. We chatted for almost an hour before we figured it out. What a coincidence! My friend Raina and I *literally* ran into this woman on a street corner in West Hollywood. Small world.

2. The three of us made our way into the bar, and promptly met some French guys, one of whom is a photographer for a foot fetish magazine (not kidding.) Raina peeled off one of her caged stilettos for him to inspect her feet (not kidding, again.) He told her she could make $5,000 a day foot modeling (really.) The other guy is an astronomist (really? yes.) and there was a third--who was actually Italian--who works for Apple. The Italian, Donato (amazing! is he a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle?) tried to convince me to have a courtship with him the Italian way: "First we see what the other person has to offer in bed, before we decide to have a relationship. You like this way?" (I passed on that offer, but at least he was direct. That's something of an upgrade from American guys in LA.) It was like a bad joke: "A French foot fetishist, a French astronomer, and an Italian stallion walk into a bar..."

3. And then, for the finale of the evening, an hour later I ended up trying to make out with a random cute guy, who ACTUALLY PUSHED ME AWAY. (It was his birthday. He had flirted with me briefly. We concocted a plan to give him a birthday make-out session. It made sense at the time.) So after he pushed me away, I laughed and said "Your loss!" to which he leaned down and said "Actually my gain--I'm gonna jerk off to that a lot." Really? Because had you played your cards right, *I* COULD BE THE ONE JERKING YOU OFF A LOT, NOT MR. RIGHTY OR MR. LEFTY. Dear god, what a fucking idiot.

So per usual, never a dull moment. Any evening that involves foot fetishes, trying to make out with a guy (and getting rejected), and then being told he's intending to masturbate to that image...well, what I can I say--it was messy and perhaps slightly ungraceful, but it was damn fun and I'm not sorry.

But it was, indeed, a hard day's night. Whew.