Tuesday, February 3, 2009
Detroit Red Wings beat the St. Louis Blues, 4-3
I was at a party once. My friends apartment. I was about 16/17 and he was the first person I knew to have a place of his own. Thats probably why Matt and I didn't hesitate to drive the hour-fifteen east on Sunrise highway to get to it.
One night, one party, there were a three guys there who we didnt know. Who no one knew. All in their late twenties. And one broken hearted, and very inebriated girl, who that night broke up with her boyfriend, at the start of the party. The ex was still floating around somewhere.
She lay, on the porch, in a lawn chair, as the three strangers took turns, eating her out, and eventually fucking her. While the ex, drunk and driving, cried his way home.
Everything about the situation screamed wrong to me. This is bad. Stop this. Somehow.
But her screams were oppositional, and much louder. She wanted this. She wanted them.
Looking back, I speculate that she wanted so much more than them, to get railed out by three dudes. Sometimes, when I think back upon it, like I often do, I pretend it was revenge she wanted. Other times, I think that she wanted to feel independent again, that she believe she was her own person, with her own body, making her own choices. Sometimes, I think that she just wanted to feel sexy, wanting to be wanted.
I dont really believe any of those.
One of the strangers, finished, comes back into the party, smiling. Smiling a smile I never saw before, and have been afraid to see since.
"Shes on the rag," he said. "I was thinking, maybe if I pull the string I'll get a prize."
It took me a couple years to figure out what he meant be that.