I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell (34 page)

Friend "Dude, you've had too much. This is bordering on dangerous.
"
Tucker "The only dangerous amount is none!
"
Friend "How many drinks did you have at the last place?
"
Tucker "You're counting MY drinks? If you want to act like my live
r
accountant then you can pay the fucking bill too!
"

Friend "I PAY YOUR BAR TABS ANYWAY!
"
Tucker "I'M FAMOUS-WOMEN CAN'T DO THIS TO ME!
"

They sat me in a corner and went back out on the prowl. One or tw
o
more drinks later, I decided that I was going to dance. Completel
y
immersed in my indignant self-pity on the dance floor, I found my savior
.
In the corner of the club, dancing alone, I found the person that I coul
d
trust. I found my one. My soul mate. The person who would never betra
y
me and who would love me forever and never fuck anyone els
e
behind my back without telling me
.

This was the most gorgeous person I had ever seen. Piercing blu
e
eyes and sandy blond hair. Great body. A deep, penetrating stare tha
t
revealed a wisdom and understanding beyond the average person
.
Great charisma. Someone who would hold me. And we had immediat
e
chemistry
.

We danced for an hour, exchanging seductive looks, coyly flirting
,
seductively whispering sweet nothings at each other. Every smile wa
s
met with a smile, every caress with an equal response
.

I finally found someone to fall in love with
.
I was too drunk to realize this at the time, but my friends were watchin
g
me the whole time ... and all they saw was me dancing in front o
f
a huge mirror
.
By myself
.
No one else within ten feet of me
.

Let me emphasize: I was so drunk, I was dancing WITH MYSELF i
n
the mirror. For AN HOUR. NO ONE was near me
.

Not only did I never once realize it, the only thing I remembered th
e
next morning from that club was thinking that I'd fallen in love. For real
,
it took several of them to convince me that I was dancing alone, an
d
not with the most amazing girl I'd ever met
.

My friends also told me that later when the lights came on indicatin
g
closing time, I staggered out of the club onto the street, ran away fro
m
them, and their last sight was me careening down the street, bouncin
g
off store fronts and parked cars, yelling
:
"IF YOU WANT TO GO OUT ON A DATE WITH ME, YOU CANNO
T
FELLATE ANYONE ELSE FOR AT LEAST TWENTY-FOUR HOUR
S
BEFOREHAND! DO YOU HEAR ME?? AND I WANT YOU T
O

SHOWER TOO! I HAVE STANDARDS!! YOU HAVE TO DOUCHE!! IF THE GLOVE FITS, THE GIRL IS A WHORE!!!"

Now THAT is Tucker Max Drunk.

But unfortunately, Tucker Max Drunk is not free. At some point the bill comes due. How expensive is it? Let's tally the total:

You know it's been a hard night when you wake up dehydrated and still dizzy. You know it's been a really hard night when you wake up dehydrated and dizzy and don't know where you are and have no memory of how you got there.

But it is only when waking from a truly Tucker Max Drunk night that you are completely dehydrated, too dizzy to stand, and though you don't know your exact location or how you got there, you do realize that you have just woken up OUTSIDE, in a PUBLIC PARK, with a stray dog LICKING YOUR FACE.

Raise your hand if you've ever had that happen to you.

I clawed my way to a park bench, pulled myself up onto it, and saw a huge Tin Man statue. For a split second, I honestly thought I'd died and gone to hell, and it was sponsored by Warner Brothers. That was a bit of a shock, because I'd always thought Disney would rule hell. Then I remembered: I lived right by a park called Oz Park, though until this moment, it had not occurred to me where it got its name. Encouraged by the fact that I was close to my apartment, I started walking. After falling a few times and finally getting that damn dog to stop following me, I found Halstead and followed it back to my apartment.

I was so concerned with keeping my balance and navigating correctly, I didn't really notice till I got home that my face and scalp were itching something terrible. I was reaching up to discover the source of this itch as I stumbled in my door. My roommate took one look at me, audibly gasped and got that "Oh my god" face I've seen so many times. He usually lets out a laugh when he sees the aftereffects of one of my binges, but this time he was so shocked he could only cover his mouth and utter "Go look in the mirror."

I felt my face, and there was definitely something sticky and hard crusted onto it. Thinking that it was possibly blood and I had sustained

a head injury, I rushed to the bathroom, and there in the mirror wa
s
rock bottom
:

The "love of my life" stared back at me with a face covered in hardened
,
crusted vomit. Yellow and brown bile matted my hair, chunk
s
were in my eyebrows and ears, my cheek and neck had pieces o
f
grass stuck in the vomit crust. I looked like some sort of botched specia
l
effect. So much for being too good for whores' sloppy seconds
.
But the piece de resistance lay on the top of my head, at the edge o
f
the crusted vomit, precariously stuck to the vomit in my hair
:
A small, dry dog turd
.

The repercussions of that night did not end there. First off, my (now ex-) roommate will call me shit-head for the rest of my life, and I deserve it.

Second, I will never look at women the same way. Ever. This event, combined with a story my friend told me right after that about his exgirlfriend letting herself get gang-banged by Mexicans in front of him to get even for him cheating on her totally ruined me. Now, every time I look at or talk to a woman, I can't help but think to myself, "Has she already sucked a dick today? How recent was her last migrant worker gang-bang?"

Granted, I've done horrible stuff also, but anyone in the world can read this book and know what I've done. It's the not knowing that really messes with me. What fucks me up is to think that girls I'm casually dating are fucking around on me, and not even just on other days, but right before they see me. I don't really go on dates anymore since I learned that you don't need to spend money to get pussy, but when I did, I wonder how many girls came out with sperm breath? And how many of those did I kiss? And even now I wonder how many women have I met out at a bar who fucked a guy before going out, and then went home with me?

I talked to all my female friends about this, and the response was varied. .

• The dumb ones were like, "Ohhhh-can I come over and suck you off too?" Yes you may. And bring beer.
  
• The naive ones were like, "A girl came over and sucked your dick before a date?? No girl does that!!" Riiiiight ... and you've never
  
• had a boyfriend cheat on you. Go back to reading books you buy at the grocery store and leave reality to the rest of us.
  
• I finally got some usable feedback from my smart female friends. Most of them were like, "This is news to you? That there are women who do what you do? Tucker, I thought you were smarter than this."
  

Thanks for making me feel better.

One friend in particular summed it up: "At least you had this realization. Most guys go through life being blissfully ignorant. My girlfriends who juggle a lot of guys are the ones who don't give off any slutty vibe ... which is how they totally get away with it. Every guy they are with thinks they've got the perfect situation-a sweet girl who comes over at midnight once or twice a week because that's all she wants. They don't understand that she's got the same perfect arrangement with four other guys."

I tried to explain that giving me head was so good that women actually wanted to do it and didn't care about getting anything back, but she just laughed.

Not that sucking my dick is some chore, but the idea that any guy is so much better than other guys that he is above cuckoldry is ridiculous. Believe me, guys: No matter how good you are, some girl has played you ... and you probably didn't even realize it.

Don't think about this for too long fellas, or it will drive you nuts. I fixated on it for a whole night and ended up dancing with myself in a mirror for an hour and then woke up in a public park with vomit crusted to my face and dog shit stuck to my head-you can trust me on this. Just move on.

As I write this I am sitting in my cousin Josh's apartment in Dallas
,
Texas. I am fighting a hangover and an intense desire to vomit mysel
f
to sleep so that I can get this down now, when it is fresh, becaus
e
even though it's not the most absurd thing I've ever done, it is u
p
there
.

Last night we go to a place called The Corner to meet a group of girl
s
who had been emailingme.This is Josh's first experience dealing wit
h
my website groupies, and even though he understands what I do i
n
the abstract, he can't fathom that I get laid this way
.

Josh "So let me get this straight: Girls email you, then meet you out
,
and have sex with you?
"
Tucker "Yeah. Lots of them.
"
Josh "Why?
"
Tucker "I don't know. I am awesome. Some women are sluts. Wh
o
knows?
"
Josh "All the women in Dallas are sluts.
"
Tucker "God bless them, every one.
"
The girl who emailed me, Lindsay, shows up. She is even better lookin
g
than her pics; blonde shoulder length hair, cute button nose, tha
t
sexy Texas twang, light eyes-a total Southern hottie. Her four othe
r
friends ranged from "really cute" to "what happened to her face," s
o
predictably, I focus all my attention on Lindsay. Tucker Luck bein
g
what it is, my cousin not only has a girlfriend but is also a great wingman
,
so he was happy to handle the group, leaving my flank protecte
d
and me free to talk to the hot girl. About five minutes into th
e
conversation, she drops this
:
Lindsay "Can we just be friends?
"
Tucker "What do you mean?
"
Lindsay "Well, I just don't want you to think that I'm here to have se
x
with you.
"
Tucker "When did I bring up the subject of sex?
"
Lindsay "Well, you didn't, but ... well ... you know ...
"
Tucker "Don't sweat things like that. Let's just hang out and have fu
n
and everything will work itself out.
"

Let me translate that conversation from GameSpeak to commo
n
English: Lindsay "I want to fuck you, but I don't want to feel like a slu
t
when I do it.
"
Tucker "I won't make you feel like a slut, even if you act like one.
"
Lindsay "Good, because even though I think I want to fuck you, I wan
t
you to run good game on me first. You have to earn it.
"
Tucker "Relax, I have everything under control.
"

Now, even though the odds were good that Lindsay was going to fuc
k
me, I still had to play my cards right. I do know women as a group ver
y
well, but I don't ever claim to completely know anyone individua
l
woman. As soon as you think you have a woman totally figured out
,
that's when you walk in on her being triple teamed by the yard workers
.
Lindsay did some of my work for me by getting really drunk. I wa
s
drinking Goose and Red Bull doubles, and she was lapping me. The
n
out of nowhere, she brought up my number of sexual partners
.
Lindsay "How many girls have you been with?
"
Tucker "I never answer that question. That answer never leads t
o
anything good.
"
Lindsay "I've only been with two people.
"
I openly laughed in her face. [note: She is 24
]
Lindsay "IT'S TRUE!
"
Tucker "OK, whatever.
"
Lindsay "IT IS TRUE!
"
Tucker "I don't really care, but let me tell you something I have learne
d
about women: They lie. A lot. Especially about that.
"
Lindsay "I'm not lying.
"
Tucker "OK, I believe you. It doesn't really matter either way. We'r
e
just friends.
"
Linsay "Oh stop it.
"
Again, from GameSpeak to English
:
Lindsay "Ask me if I'm a slut.
"
Tucker "No.
"
Lindsay "I was testing you to see if you'll treat me like a slut for fuckin
g
you the first night we meet.
"
Tucker "I know. Now I will show you how edgy I am.
"
Lindsay "You passed the test. And I like your edginess.
"

As the night went on, she got hammered. Housed to the point wher
e
she was stumbling into people at the bar and speaking in tongues o
n
her cell phone. Her friends were telling me that it was the drunkes
t
they'd ever seen her. Not to be outdone by a small girl, I did shots wit
h
half the bar until I was as drunk as, well, Tucker Max
.

But just being drunk and foolish wasn't enough for Lindsay and me, s
o
we started making out. Yeah, we were that drunk couple that everyon
e
hates, the ones eating each other's faces at the bar. She kinda stop
s
and pulls me aside
:
Lindsay "I never do this. I cannot believe I got this drunk.
"
Tucker "You ready to go home?
"
Lindsay "That's a good idea.
"
Tucker "You obviously can't drive. Do you want me to call you a taxi o
r
get your friends?
"
Lindsay "No. Are you sober? You can drive me home. I live just like
a
mile away.
"

Translation
:
Lindsay "I want to fuck you, but I need to get drunk as an excuse, so
I
can explain this away when I sober up.
"
Tucker "Do you want to back out now? We don't have to do this.
"
Lindsay "I know, but I want to fuck you. Let's go.
"
I drove her home and was immediately met at the door by her anklebitin
g
yippy dog. I normally love dogs, with the notable exception
s
being those brain dead little rat dogs that are fashionable with the
I
wanna-be-Paris-Hilton crowd, and this was one of those
.
Lindsay "Hey Tucker! How are you?
"
Tucker "His name is Tucker?
"

Lindsay "I've had him for a year, way before I saw your site.
"
We eventually get down to business and start fucking. I am not eve
n
inside her for a minute when she stops me. OK, no big deal, sometime
s
girls just need time or whatever. We start fucking again ... an
d
she stops me again
.
Tucker "Are you OK? Is everything alright?
"
Lindsay "Yeah, it's fine.
"
So I start fucking her again ... and she stops me AGAIN
.
Tucker "OK look honey, either shit or get off the pot. If you don't wan
t
to do this, that is totally fine and 1have no problem respecting tha
t
decision, I'll even leave if you want. But you need to decide one way o
r
the other, so I know what to do, because this game has to end. I onl
y
start and stop when I'm in traffic.
"

She decides that she does in fact want to have sex, so we start fucking
,
and to her credit she was really good in bed and managed m
e
well. Without direction I am selfish and dominant, but she knew wha
t
she was doing and was able to mesh her desires with my style. W
e
finish, and I turn to her
:

Tucker "So how many people have you slept with?
"
Lindsay 'Two.
"
Tucker "Yeah, you don't lie about that.
"
Lindsay "NO! I meant three. I wasn't counting you!
"
Tucker "AHAHHAHAHHAHA! What are you, an Enron accountant?
"
Lindsay "JERK!
"

She goes into the bathroom to do whatever it is that women do afte
r
sex. I had been feeling queasy during sex but had managed to force i
t
down until I came, but I couldn't hold it any longer. I had to vomit. An
d
this wasn't going to be normal vomit; this was make-your-eyes-water
,
burn-your-sinuses, I-want-to-die vomit. Thank you tequila shots
.
Then I panicked: where was I going to vomit? She was in the bath
-
room. There was no porch. I tried to open the window but there was
a
screen on it. That's a no-go; I've tried vomiting through screens before
.
It doesn't work. Suddenly, I had an epiphany: still laying on her bed
I
pushed it away from the wall, hung my head between the wall an
d
mattress, and blew all over the place. I couldn't have thrown a bucket o
f
vomit on her floor any harder. Thankfully her room is carpeted, so ther
e
was no splashing and minimal running, it all just kinda streaked down th
e
wall and piled up under her bed
.

By the time she came out of the bathroom I had moved the bed bac
k
and recovered, so we fucked again. Thankfully she was drunk and didn'
t
notice my rancid vomit breath. Or maybe she did and just didn't mentio
n
it
.

The sex the second time was even better. But then in the middle of u
s
fucking, I hear this weird slurping noise. At first I think maybe somethin
g
is wrong with her pussy, so I stop for a second, but the nois
e
keeps going. Then I hear a jingle associated with it ... it sounds lik
e
when my dog it wants to go out-I think her dog is under the bed eatin
g
something ..
.

HOLY SHIT-THE DOG IS EATING MY PUKE
!

What the fuck do I do now? I can't get up and stop the dog, becaus
e
then I'd have to admit that I threw up all over her floor and didn't clea
n
it up or tell her. The only solution I can arrive at is to kinda push mysel
f
up and down on the bed, thinking that maybe he'll get the picture. Th
e
slurping stops and the jingling increases
.

Lindsay "Tucker, what are you doing under there? I think he is lickin
g

himself. That dog is crazy."

The dog takes maybe a three second break and I hear the slurping again. This is great. Now I am simultaneously trying to:

1. Suppress my laughter,
   
2. Push the thought of the dog eating vomit out of my mind so I can avoid getting sick on top of her, and
   
3. Maintain my erection and keep fucking her.
   

Seriously, picture this scene in your mind's eye: I am mid-coitus, drun
k
out of my mind, vomit on my breath, on top of a girl I just met six hour
s
ago, her dog under the bed loudly feasting on my barf. What the fuck
?
What would you do? What could I have done? When in doubt, jus
t
fuck harder. It's what I did
.

But it got better. I did manage to finish and we both fall asleep
.
Sometime in the middle of the night, I woke up to piss and as I step of
f
the bed, my foot lands directly in something musky
.
Oh man ... there is only one thing that feels like that as it squishe
s
through your toes
.