The Book of St. Pat

What the hell.
That’s all I can say about last night.

The El Dorado Casino in Reno,NV

 

I learned some things that I so wish were kept buried.
The intriguing portion first:

Dave and Lisa are on their monthly pilgrimage to Reno, so we’ve been hanging out every night. Both nights we’ve stopped into Dilligas (the local Lifestyle bar/club) to have a few, listen to the jukebox, make fun of the drunks, and revel in the free show put on by the bartender Cat.
I’d gotten Lisa dolled up in one of my low cut tops and out of her mountain woman attire. My own attire was, well, as usual.
Last night there were supposed to be pole dancing lessons, but unfortunately due to it being St Patrick’s Day the event had been cancelled.
Last night involved drinking of epic proportions all over Reno, it being St. Patrick’s Day and all.
We opted to avoid the pub crawls to keep our sanity.
Despite this at one point I got my tit grabbed by friend Dave (I knocked his hand hard and called him a motherfucker. Lisa laughed and the bartender offered to slug him for me), hit on by an obnoxious guy from Sacramento, and trapped in a hotel room with Lisa while we waited for Dave and his friend to get back from the store.

While waiting in the hotel room Lisa bared her soul.
Seems she and Dave have been living a life of seclusion up there in their cabin. The only time they get out is to visit a local swinger’s house/club on weekends.
Uhhhhhh. More information than I wanted.
Our trips to Dilligas were a goof. I had thought.

In Lisa’s words ‘well we want to be swingers but we’re too fucking chickenshit’.

They’re experiences have pretty much been relegated to ‘watching’ thus far.
Dear god. I’m gonna be a bit more on guard here kids.

Dave is an old friend and he and Lisa seem happy. I’ve no inclination to do the horizontal bop with them. Oh sure it’s all well and good and tantalizing in pornos but in reality things are always different.
You don’t fuck your friends. On any level. Particularly those that you view as friends and don’t find any more physically attractive than a sibling.

Speaking of fucking your friends we’d run into one of mine earlier that evening. We were walking about downtown, looking for appealing venues and eventually headed to the Eldorado for some dancing, we hoped.
I look into the window of West Second Street and there’s said friend. I rap on the window, smile and wave. What do I get? Flipped off.
Yessiree.
I’d told Dave and Lisa to come back and wave at him with me, and if I caught his attention was going to introduce them.
After being given the finger we continued on our way.
Jesus. This was from someone I consider a dear friend. It hurt my feelings. What the hell.

On the way back from the Eldorado (there was no band so we split) I saw my old friend crossing the street and I yelled ‘Night Hon!’ His response was ‘Are you stalking me!?’
“Yes” I said. “We’re stalking you.”

Gotta tell you that this put a damper on my evening. I’d been having fun all day, despite feeling like a third wheel with Dave and Lisa, but having one of my best friends flip me off and make seemingly cavalier and hurtful remarks was kinda tough. I take things far too personally, I know this. Too bad self-realization doesn’t do a fucking thing towards changing a character trait.

Lisa wanted to tackle him then flip him off (she gets feisty when she’s been drinking and she was actually a raving bitch by this point) and I just got a bit quiet.

It was after this that we headed over to Gerard’s and we girls were trapped while the guys went out to get provisions.

We all wound up at my place about 2:00 am.
Jesus. Sounds familiar. I poured them all more cocktails and we sat around the kitchen table laughing and telling tales.

Still couldn’t shake the aura of wtf at this point so at 2:30 I announced it was bedtime. I went into my bedroom, got into my jammies, took a xanax and turned on the TV. The rest of them were left to finish their drinks and lock the door behind them as they left.

I heard them leave of course and then got out of bed and cleaned up the kitchen.
Did I mention my OCD?

Finally got to sleep around 4:00 I think.
The kitchen was clean, a spilled drink was mopped up, and I was sober.

I feel more alone than ever and wonder what I’m doing in this place called life.

Another St. Patrick’s Day another file of stories.

There are just some books that you wish you’d never picked up.