My Horizontal Life: A Collection of One Night Stands | Page 5

my skirt, tried to recapture

some semblance of dignity, and headed inside the school.

Obviously, I would need to tell all the first graders about seeing my parents have sex.

My Horizontal Life

My Horizontal Life: A Collection of One-Night Stands

My Horizontal Life: A Collection of One-Night Stands

THE BEGINNING OF THE END

MANY PEOPLE FEEL like a one-night stand is something to be ashamed of or embar-

rassed by. I disagree. There are many ways to get to know someone, and my personal favor-

ite is seeing them naked in Happy Baby pose.

I also feel it is important to have sex soon after meeting someone in order to find out if you

have sexual chemistry together. Otherwise, you could wait two to three months after you start

dating someone only to discover that your new boyfriend is bad in bed, or even worse, is into

anal beads and duct tape.

I can remember my first one-night stand like it was yesterday. Well, maybe not the first. Or

the second . . . or the fifth. I'll just begin with what I can remember and not concern myself

with order.

It was a starry summer night at the Jersey shore. Picture violins and a harmonica. Now

picture the harmonica up my ass. I think it's safe to say that the Jersey shore, specifically an

area called Belmar, isn't what pops into mind when thinking of romance.

I was around eighteen at the time. It's hard to say since I started lying about my age as

soon as I got my boobs. My girlfriend Ivory and I had just graduated from high school and de-

cided to celebrate by the water. Ivory and I had met freshman year and had been close ever

since. Her parents came to America from Cuba long before Ivory was born. They had since

tried to prove their loyalty to America with every child they'd had. Her brother's name is Cin-

cinnati and she has a sister named July, presumably after the fourth. Somewhere along the

way, they also converted to Judaism.

We were discovering the Jersey shore for the first time and felt it was our duty as Jersey

girls to really pay our respects to the Garden State. We were tired of sleeping around with the

average Joe, Dick, and Harry. A challenge was in order.

We were in the mood for dancing, so we found a loud, dark bar with music pouring out of

it. I had her pick out the hottest guy in the bar and I fearlessly approached him. It was very

empowering to go up to a babe like him and be received so well. I thought, Wow, I must be

really good-looking. Until I started dancing.

I don't know if you've ever seen a Jewish girl who's been self-diagnosed as tone-deaf cut

a rug on a Jersey shore dance floor before, but it definitely resembles someone whose motor

skills haven't fully developed. In my state of drunkenness, I was fueled by delusions of being

an original cast member of the play Chicago. I decided to do the number where I rub my ass

into my partner's crotch while my arms grab his neck behind me. When in doubt, ladies, this

move will always guarantee you at least a slice of pizza.

I decided on two slices instead of one; I'd burned a number of calories during my Flasb-

dance number and wanted to reassure my guy that I wasn't one of those girls who didn't eat.

We had a great time eating and watching my best friend Ivory make out with her score for the

night. Her guy was a real piece of Jersey trash, and they ended up tearing off in his banana

yellow Camaro. I went back to my guy's house and proceeded to have some of the best sex I

can barely remember.

What I do recall is turning his ceiling fan on “high” (there are two things in this world I can-

not sleep without: a fan and a silk set of eye shades), ripping his clothes off, and looking at

one of the finest bodies that our ecosystem has ever created. The next morning I was walking

with a considerable limp and wasn't able to deduce if this was a result of the dancing or the

sex. After catching a glimpse of my hair in the mirror, I considered scheduling an audition for

the lead in The Lion King.

I dated this beautiful hunk of flesh for the next eight months. His looks overrode his per-

sonality for the first couple of months, but after a while it became harder and harder to ignore.

We would go out to dinner, and the minute he was done eating, he'd put his fork down and

ask for the check. The summerhouse he rented with four other guys had hot water for only the

first ten minutes and then it would become freezing, so he insisted on taking showers before

me, because I was his little “trouper.” This was also someone who wouldn't let me borrow his

toothbrush on an occasion when I