SLUTTY/VIRGIN MARY

MPB

I’ve talked a lot about relationships I created in my mind or flirtations gone awry, but there was a time when I KNEW I felt something. Truly, I was positive of it and I was going to make something of it.

It started one night, when my friend Dan and I decided to have an adventure, by which I mean we went to a birthday party of a person we didn’t know. We were bored and expecting nothing, but it turned out to be a great party in a beautiful house. The host, Max, was a cute, short, blond Jewish guy, and exactly my type: me! Odds were in my favor, as I was the only person at the party shorter than he was. He quickly became my party husband. We flirted while grilling steak outside together. We joked about how we had the same phenotype. We even shared a piece of cake. I was going to leave; he asked me to stay, and I did. Then, at the end of the night, he didn’t even ask for my number. Of course, having lost not only a party husband but also a possible real husband, I cried in the Uber home. Now I know what it’s like to go through a divorce.

Later, I found out that his ex-girlfriend had arrived at the party and he felt weird making a move in front of her. Okay, he was forgiven because to flirt with a girl all night long and then not even ask for a number is a crime not even acceptable during the Purge or the Hunger Games or the Divergent series. I paid no mind to the fact this ex-girlfriend was still around. I was going to make things work. I mean, we had been through so much. We owed it to ourselves to give this a chance.

A month later I was invited to another of his parties. I went, and the exact same thing happened. This time we shared a piece of pizza. Sharing food was “our thing,” I guess. Lots of fun and flirting, but no move made. Again, I found out this scary ex-girlfriend had been there. Again, I paid her no mind. I also paid no mind to the fact that she was an artist and her paintings covered every wall in this guy’s house. There are sometimes signs, if you look for signs.

A third chance arose. I was at my best friend’s housewarming party. (Sidebar: I’m not invited to that many parties. I’m only writing about the times I have been.) I was toasted as can be when I heard that Max was having a casual gathering at his house. I turned to my friend as her party was dwindling down and told her I had to go. I had a mission. She understood. I was the star of my own life! I was not the funny best friend! And I was going to make something happen. (I’m only this confident under the influence.)

I played it perfectly, albeit drunk and falling. I hate dogs, but I flirted with Max’s dog all night. I was petting it, snuggling with it, making cool jokes like “I really only come here for the dog. I really just want to fuck your dog.” My greatest move was when I was standing in a circle with Max, Dan, and a guy Dan liked. I was like, “Max, can we go get a drink?” I was so smooth. “See what I did there?” I said to him after we’d left the other two guys alone. “They like each other.”

“Good job, do you want to go out on the balcony?”

“Sure!”

He pushed me up against the side of his house and kissed me. Was a drunken make-out session what I had initially wanted? No, of course not, I had wanted a dinner date at the fanciest restaurant in all the land, but this was fairly hot and romantic, in its way. The party continued and we were now officially party married, but for real this time. I adopted the dog. A lawyer was involved, I swear. When everyone started shuffling out, I obviously stayed. I was moving in next week and needed to figure out which closet would be mine. Clearly just staying at someone’s house is my party move. No time for hard to get.

We were on his couch; I was showing him my new rebellious ear piercings. Then we moved to the bedroom. Things heated up very quickly from there. Clothes off, etc. I mean, we were married, might as well consummate it. About ten minutes into this, I heard a banging on the front door. The banging got louder and finally a key turned in the lock.

A girl burst in screaming, “Hello? Hello! I know you’re in here!” Meanwhile, in the bedroom, Max covered my mouth with his hand. “Don’t say anything!” What do you mean, Max? I’m dying to talk to this girl! She’s my boo. We tried to stay quiet so she’d just leave, but she refused. “I know you’re in there. I’m coming in!”

He jumped up. “I’ll be right back. Don’t move.”

“Okay, cool, I’ll just chill here.”

I figured I’d wait for her to go, and then I’d just bounce myself, but this girl would not leave. “I know there’s someone in there!” Max just kept saying, “I didn’t know you were coming. I didn’t know you were coming.” So, what, it would be cool for him to cheat if he did know she was coming? Was he even cheating? It still wasn’t clear whether they were together or she was some crazy ex. I think they were “broken up, but still sleeping together”? They just kept going back and forth, and it didn’t look like she would be leaving anytime soon. I decided I should try to fall asleep. That way, he would have to deal with me in his bed and would be very uncomfortable about it. Or they’d have to wake me up together and ask me to leave. Something good would happen. So there I was, snuggling away with the dog, when I heard: “Does this girl know there’s dried semen in there from last night?” Okay, now it’s time to go. I jumped up. I put on my jeans and my bra. I couldn’t find my shirt. Fuck her, I’m going out there in a bra.

“Hi,” I said. “I’m Miranda. It’s so nice to meet you. I just need to find my shirt and then I’m out of here.”

“Me too,” she said. “Should we share an Uber?”

I had to give her credit for the joke. “No, thanks!” I did kind of want someone to be like, “Should we all stay?” just so I could be outraged, but everyone was too self-aware for that. (In retrospect, should I have made the joke? Hmm…)

Finally she left, and I waited for a huge apology from this guy. He just stood there in shock, repeating, “I didn’t know she was coming. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Part of me wanted to be cool and say, “Hey, want to have a drink and tell me about it?” But then another part of me wanted to get the hell out of there. The insecure and strongest part of me wanted him to say, “I really like you, please stay.” Of course, none of the above occurred.

The next morning I woke up hungover and laughing. I wasn’t offended, just kind of like, How the hell did that happen to me? I was thankful, actually. It’s important to have something interesting happen to you every couple of months so you have something to talk about when you go out to dinner. I dined on this story for weeks.

It would be fine if this story ended here, but it didn’t. A month later, I got the apology from Max that I had been waiting for. I agreed to let him take me out. “A lot of great relationships start with something insane,” I told myself. This was a moment when I had all the power. This guy had to really make it up to me! My friends said, “Cherish this moment, Miranda.” And instead, I lost it all immediately and slept with him that night. To make matters worse, I slept with him outside, in a construction site, and it was my idea. He texted me a picture of the construction site later that week, but never responded after that.

I continued to sleep with him whenever we ran into each other for a year. Never once did he ask me out again or make me feel actually special. He’d tell me he’d listened to my podcast just to hear my voice and all my self-respect would go out the window. Once, I slept with him the night before my birthday and told him he absolutely had to spend the night. “I won’t think we’re together,” I said. “I just don’t want to wake up alone on my birthday.” The next morning he was gone.

That was the final straw… until the next time I texted him. He is the only guy I have ever texted anything remotely like “You up?” to. There’s just no shame left to be had in front of him. After a certain point, I finally deleted his number. (While editing, I had to check to make sure I actually deleted this number. I’m so proud to tell you I did. This wasn’t a lie!)

To this day, though, he is my Bloody Mary guy, because whenever I wake up having seen him, I need to forget it. Sometimes you just have to admit you’re too hungover to move. More important, sometimes when you’re too ashamed to live with what happened the night before, it’s not a bad idea to invite a friend over for a Bloody Mary and laugh about it, or try to laugh about it. Or to forgive yourself for being in your midtwenties and acting like a college student. Please join me for a Bloody Mary right about now.

Question: Should I go back and steal his dog? Think about it.

SERVES 1

INGREDIENTS

4 ounces tomato juice

2 ounces vodka

Juice of ½ lemon

½ teaspoon sriracha, or more to taste

½ teaspoon Worcestershire sauce

¼ teaspoon grated horseradish

⅛ teaspoon celery salt

Assorted garnishes (see list at right)

DIRECTIONS

• Combine all the ingredients in a mixing glass.

• Add several ice cubes and stir to combine and chill.

• Strain into an ice-filled pint glass and garnish with any of the ingredients listed at right.

GARNISHES

Celery sticks

Lemon wedges

Lime wedges

Cherry tomatoes

Olives

Sliced radishes

Kimchi

Pickled or cocktail onions

Sliced pickles

Cornichons

Marinated mushrooms

Pickled asparagus