Gather ’round, Children

Dear Bartender: I am out of my depth.

Flailing and drowning in the murky depths of stupid things I did when drunk, apparently a dark ocean of epic proportions.

Or rather, Dear Bartender: Help, please, I’m so distracted by this that I might be on fire and wouldn’t notice.

This is probably going to sound stupid. Because it is stupid. Possibly I’m an idiot but it’s a bit late to worry about that.

Happy mothers day, by the way.

Alright, here we go:

I am an eighteen year old girl. Hang on, don’t stop reading yet.

Last night, I got my first kiss from one of my best friends during an extremely rowdy game of spin the bottle. I kind of expected my first kiss to be a boy, or at least to not be someone taken, but what can you do? I’m not saying I have any preference here, that’s just sort of how I thought it would be, in that vague future I figured would come along eventually. I’m certainly not complaining, though the second and third kisses were better.

The kissing isn’t the problem yet. Mostly, it just led to lots of making out with everyone, which is not really something I’m prone to doing. That’s probably obvious from the ‘first kiss happening at age eighteen’ thing. I’m not a prude, I’m just very private and kind of reserved. And also probably socially retarded, but that doesn’t really apply in this situation because everyone was completely smashed as it was.

Where was I?

Oh yes, her boyfriend came back, there was more making out, people left, fondling happened.

And then I had my first sexual experience with someone else, and it happened to be a four-way, and absolutely nobody finished. I mean, really, no one climaxed. We all just sort of got tired and put our clothes back on and went to bed (separately).

Hang on, I’m just getting to the awkward part now. Sorry for the delay.

This was me, my best friend, her boyfriend (who is very straight), and a really good friend of ours (he is a boy and he likes other boys about as much as I like other girls). Our Good Friend really wanted in on the man action, but the (very straight) Boyfriend was really uninterested. So Our Good Friend ended up sort of sulking for a good long time. And then left the room. And wouldn’t talk to me, really.

Things were, to put it mildly, weird.

I have yet to speak with any of them. I am not intentionally avoiding them, I simply have a mother-daughter breakfast to go to in a few hours (and I shall spend the entire meal thinking very hard about ceiling fans or something of the like, because otherwise I’m just going to say it over the toast and I will never live it down) and had to leave early. No one was awake yet when I went home. So I am not avoiding them yet, but I’ve got plenty of time for that after.

I have no idea how things are right now. I have no idea what the heck to say, and I have no idea if any of this will be continued unless we all get plastered again. I have no idea if I want it to happen again (though I kind of enjoy the fact that we’re close enough and trust each other enough for this, and also that I’m apparently not a hideous hag and at least drunk people still like me).

See, I don’t even know what I’m trying to ask. Maybe I just need to vent.

Wait, no, I need advice.

Obviously, Our Good Friend needs a boy, right? I mean, he was really, really bummed. What the heck should we do about that? Put up fliers? ‘Male participant wanted for private, loving, drunken orgy. No more straight men, please; we have enough. Pets okay, no smokers.’ I don’t know what to do to make him happier. Probably talking to him would be a start, but like I said, I’m a social moron and he was asleep on the floor when I left. Or at least pretending.

And, okay, I’ll go ahead and ask it (because it might be obvious but I just don’t know). What do I do? About all of it? What do I say, when do I say it, how can I look any of them in the face again ever (without giggling loudly and saying ‘butt-hole’ or some equivalently hilarious word or phrase, or simply bursting into tears), is there anything that will make this not weird, and how do I keep from thinking about this when I’m talking to my mother (other than ceiling fans)?

This sounds very much like a stupid teenager problem, and I apologize for that, but this really isn’t something I can talk to one of my friends about (what with it involving several of them). I admit it, I am a stupid teenager. Stupid teenagers have stupid teenager problems, and if someone doesn’t help us with them the universe would probably collapse. Or something.

So, please respond with some breathtaking words of wisdom that will make everyone happy and everything not weird (I’m sorry, my expectations may be a bit high; feel free to disappoint them), and I shall sit with bated breath and gnawed fingernails waiting for some answer to my lack of forethought and probable eventual nervous breakdown.

Yours truly,

The abovementioned idiot

Dear Not A Hideous Hag: The drinking age in NYC is 21, so I don’t often get a chance to deal with juvenile drama — wait, what am I saying? Yes I do; I just hear it from adults. It’s really not much different.

My breathtaking words — and the only thing you should say to your friends when you see them: “Shit, we were really drunk last night, weren’t we?”

Say nothing else. This (invaluable) phrase reëstablishes trust; it says, “I’ll play like we aren’t responsible for what happened if you happen to be freaking out about it.” Then, after a couple of days, broach the subject with one of them — carefully. If he or she wants to talk about it, you’ll know.

As for Our Good Friend: uh, while I love the idea of pamphletting the neighborhood with “Sex Buddy Wanted” ads (why didn’t anyone do that for me when I was 18), it’s probably better to let him figure it out on him own. That doesn’t mean you can’t casually invite him over to watch “Valley of the Dolls,” however.

Congrats on your first kiss, btw. What’s important in the long run is not that it was from a boy or a girl; what’s important is that no one chipped a tooth.