7:24: They just pour me some. I gulp it down. "Hey Francois, tell Pierre he makes sum damn fine grape juice!"
7:27: The next table is a vineyard pouring a chardonnay and a cabernet. They politely ask what varietal I would prefer. "I ain't sure, cause I like both colors of wine, red AND white."
7:34: I get the cab. It's actually really good. "Reminds me'a this'n wine I dun got last year. My cuzin made it in'iz tub. I got drunker'n fire on it."
7:44: The next table has a truly great white. "I LIKE IT!" The vintner enjoys my excitement, and asks my thoughts on the bouquet, "Do you get the floral notes, especially the lily?" I am confused, "Lily? You mean that thar's flower juice!?!"
7:50: I consider buying it. The exchange we have didn't really lead to that outcome: Redneck Tucker "Yew got a box'a thisin ik'an buy? I bet disin comes in a fancy box, don't it?"
Wine Guy "No, only normal bottle."
RedneckTucker "You ain't got nuttin bigger, like a jug?"
Wine Guy "Do you mean a magnum?"
Redneck Tucker "Nah, I ain't black."
8:10: A new table. This wine sucks. I don't hide my disdain, "What am I 'posed to do with this'n stuff? Kill termites with it?"
8:12: I look at the price, "$90 a bottle?? I pay $6 a gallon for wine 'round the corner!" The table scowls at me, "So where's the Boone's Farm table? They know hawta price wine." The vintner gets saucy with me, "They don't have a table, just a couple of folding chairs and a cooler outside." I stare at him seriously, "You thank yur better'n Boone's Farm? Them's fighten wurds, buddy."
8:20: The next table has pinot noir, "Hey guys, let's drank some shots of this'n Pie-Not-Know-Ear stuff."
8:30: I have run out of wine vendors to harass. I start in on random groups of pretentious douchers, "So what flavor's yer favorite?" They look at me like I'm Sarah Palin's retarded Republican baby.
8:40: Another group of women, "Which flavor gets yew closer ta anal?" Didn't go over well.
I thought my little act was hilarious. No one else really agreed. With all the wine snobs and the cute girls annoyed with me, I stopped wasting time on jokes, and just staggered back to the booths with good wine, and greedily poured anything I could grab down my throat. People were staring and whispering. Crowds would open wide swaths in my path wherever I walked. Judging by the general reaction to me, one might have thought that a leper was tossing stray body parts around the room.
Once I reached the fucked-in-half drunk stage, I found the only person who I had yet to either insult or piss off. She was a stunning black woman named Stacy, who looked, to me at least, very similar to Vanessa Williams. Of course, I was blitzed, so in reality she could just as easily have looked like Ricky Williams. Who knows, they all look the same to me (women, I mean, not black people). I ambled over to where she was standing, in front of a booth that had a white zinfandel: Tucker "Isn't this wine supposed to be over in the 'Assorted Hooch' section of the event?"
She giggled. Game on.
Tucker "Oh, so you think you're better'n me? You want a straw and some ice for your fancy looking pink juice?"
She thought I was hilarious. Finally an audience!
We started talking, and somehow the topic of my employment came up. This was in 2002, like a month after I started writing full time and had just put my site up, so the truthful answer to, "So, what do you do?" would have been something like, "Not a fucking thing."
Tucker "I am a connoisseur of opportunity."
Stacy "Well, if you're looking for a job, I might have a houseboy opportunity available."
Tucker "Houseboy? What does that entail? Is it part of my job to have sex with your undressed body?"
Stacy "Well, being that I am a lesbian and live with my girlfriend, I don't think so."
Tucker "You're a lesbian? Well Stacy, there's a quick way to catch my interest."
I asked if her girlfriend was as attractive as her. Stacy told me she was the "femme" in the relationship, and that I wouldn't find her live-in girlfriend nearly as alluring. She even went so far as to say that her mate vaguely resembled Pete Rose. I asked if her girlfriend was a switch-hitter like Pete, and the conversation just went downhill from there. I had endless questions for her-I mean honestly, can you imagine this couple? Being a little tipsy herself, Stacy answered all of them, some with astonishing candidness: Tucker "Why'd you go lesbian to begin with?"
Stacy "I don't know. It was kind of an accident at first, but then I realized I liked it."
Tucker "Are you a lesbian because you hate men or because you like women?"
Stacy "I definitely don't hate men. I just like women a lot."
Tucker "What's with the butch/femme thing?"
Stacy "Hot girls are too much maintenance, and butch girls are better in bed."
Tucker "So that means you're high maintenance and you suck in bed?"
Stacy "Hehehehhehe. You're funny."
Tucker "You should see me naked."
Tucker "Who does the housework?"
Stacy "We allegedly split, but she does most of it. I work more than her."
Tucker "Could your girlfriend beat me up?
Stacy "Maybe. She's built."
Tucker "Do you two ever watch porn to get in the mood? And if so, what kind?"
Stacy "No, we really don't watch much porn. Sometimes 'Red Shoe Diaries', but usually only if we're high."
Tucker "When you and your girlfriend hook up, is it like the lesbian hook-ups in porn movies? I mean, if I want to get a mental picture of you and your girlfriend, could I use lesbian porn as a template?"
Stacy "Yeah, I guess. I haven't seen a lot of lesbian porn, but I can't imagine it's much different. Maybe different music. She likes Indigo Girls a lot."
Tucker "Do you two use a dildo?"
Stacy "Of course. How else am I supposed to get dick?"
Tucker "Do you want me to hit that softball? Well, I guess your girlfriend is probably a better softball player than me."
Stacy "She did play in college."
Tucker "Of course she did!"
Tucker "So what is the dildo situation, i.e., who is the fucker and who is the fuckee?"
Stacy "It all depends on our mood, but normally I'm the one getting fucked."
Tucker "Strap-on or hand-held?
Stacy "Both."
Tucker "At once!"
Stacy [coy shrug]
Tucker "Stacy, you are a naughty little monkey! And I mean that in the non-racist way."
Tucker "So what type of dildos? Like, different colors and types? Different sizes and textures?"
Stacy "Yeah, I have a lot. My favorite is the one made of Pyrex."
Tucker "She fucks you with a measuring cup?"
Stacy "No, it's shatter-proof glass."
Tucker "I know, I won the chemistry award in my high school. So what about anal penetration?
Stacy "Of course, but only with the smaller ones. And I need to be drunk."
Tucker "Alright, but here's the big question, at least for me: Is your girlfriend with the dildo better than a guy with a penis?
Stacy "Oh yes, definitely. Dildos are the shit. The dildo lasts forever, does exactly what it's told, can change sizes, is disease free, won't get me pregnant, and my girlfriend's only concern is making sure I cum. Can you show me a penis that does all that?"
Tucker "I now have a new a goal in life."
Tucker "Do you and your girlfriend ever include guys?"
Stacy "No. She's not the 'include a guy' type."
Tucker "What type is she?"
Stacy "More of the 'shot and a beer after the game' type."
Tucker "So you're dating a guy without a penis?"
Stacy "Sometimes I feel that way."
Tucker "Do you date the 'include a guy' type?"
Stacy "I have before."
Tucker "So, is this lesbian thing permanent, or are you just a tourist?"
Stacy "I don't know. Maybe. I just kind of go with what feels right."
Tucker "You want to hook up with me don't you?"
Stacy "You have to start at cabana boy, and work up from there."
Tucker "Just get me the coconut oil, and I'll get started."
Honestly, I don't think I've ever been more attracted to a woman than I was to Stacy at that point. I'm not exactly sure why. It might have been her rare synergistic combination of startling physical beauty and sagacious wit. Perhaps it was because she had just discussed anal sex and lesbian threesomes with me. Maybe it was the three gallons of wine I had in my system. Probably a magical combination of all of the above.
In one of the greatest coups of my life, Stacy wrote down her number (her cell phone, not her home phone), and told me to call her, that she thought I was hilarious and would love to hang out with me.
And in perhaps one of the biggest disappointments of my life, at some point later that night, I lost Stacy's number. I couldn't leave my apartment for like three days after I realized what I had done; I was that upset.
But then I got drunk again and moved on.
THE EX-GIRLFRIEND THREESOME FALLOUT.
Occurred, Summer 2009 The last story in Assholes Finish First is called "Good Game, Great Game, and No Game," and was about one of the most unusual, ridiculous nights of my life. To get the full effect, you kinda have to read the story, but basically the only two ex-girlfriends from the last five years of my life (Alexa and HotNurse) randomly met each other at a party, became fast friends, and decided-with neither input nor permission from me-that we were all going to have a threesome.
And we did. And it was really fucking awesome. And they left the next morning without any drama, any bullshit, nothing. It was one of those rare moments in life where everything worked out and something amazing happened.
That night and that threesome were perfect. When you reach that kind of perfection, you can't try to hold on to it. Any sort of perfection is fleeting, and if you try to hold on to it, if you try to control the uncontrollable, you destroy it. Better to relish the moment, then let go of it and move on. I basked in the glow of my awesomeness for a day or two, bragged to my buddies, took down all the notes so I could write a little story about it, and that was it.
Two days later, I got a text from HotNurse.
HotNurse "Alexa and I are at a club. It kinda sucks. See you after?"
Tucker "Just you, sure."
HotNurse "Can both of us come?"
I thought temptation might come. I was prepared. Be strong. Don't be an idiot: Tucker "I can't stand her."
HotNurse "I know. But she's fun. And it'll be even better than last time :)"
FUCK. Intellectually, I know that there is really only one way for this to end: disaster. I should say no. The smart move is to say no. I want to say no.
But HOW do I do that? In the moment, how do I say no to two really hot girls asking to come over and have a threesome with you? I even tried to say no a few times, but it was a pitiful effort and HotNurse plowed right through it. She knew, and I knew-I couldn't say no.
They came back over, we fucked all night again, and it was almost as awesome the second time. But the next morning, I started to see the cracks in the dam: Alexa "Come on, take us to breakfast! I want pancakes!!"
Tucker "Shut the fuck up. This was a perfect night. If we don't end it now, it'll turn into a shit storm. Go home, both of you."
That was a Friday night. On Saturday night, I already had plans with a different girl, so when HotNurse started texting me about her and Alexa coming back over, I basically just put her off by telling her I was at a business dinner and couldn't deal with it. That didn't work, so I silenced my phone and ignored her texts.
The other girl and I ended up back at my place. Then, about 2:30am, I hear this ridiculously loud, obnoxious banging on my door.