It was New Year’s eve and I’d bought new clothes, so I thought I was cutting quite a dashing figure, but the reality was I’d drunk four 151 rum and cokes and was shouting the word “dickhead” at my friend Frank for reasons I can’t remember. That was the taxi. Then I was in a kitchen (can’t remember whose) holding a big bottle of prosecco (not mine) and I was sharing it with a girl named Jennifer. She was telling me she was a freshman at Santa Monica College, and I was doing that glazed eyes listening but not really listening thing, so I asked Jennifer if she wanted to go upstairs.
We went up, and I was holding orange juice now as well and Jennifer was saying something about the actor from The Blue Lagoon, Christopher Atkins. In someone’s parents’ room and Jennifer was now on top of me and pressing her (large) breasts into my face. Hard. Really hard. So hard I had a nosebleed. All over her breasts, all over the (inevitably) cream carpet. That was when the owners of the house came back. I recall them screaming the words “what”, “the”, “fuck”, “are”, “you”, “doing”, “in” “here” at me and Jennifer quite a few times. As I left I kicked the orange juice (probably an accident) all over the carpet, which now resembled some kind of crime scene.
Smash cut to March, I haven’t seen or spoken to Jennifer since NYE. I’m wandering around a club after a show looking for a bottle of Jack Daniels and then Jennifer is in front of me and my inner monologue is like, “How is this happening?” But you know what? Jennifer was pretty cool about the nosebleed.
Jennifer and I had sort of OK sex back at her place. We lay there in that blue grey not quite morning light and we talked. Jennifer said she thought I looked like Christopher Atkins (which is generous). And the blue grey light changed and soon the rest of the room was visible, the clothes on the floor, the photos of Jennifer and her friends on the walls, the pictures of Christopher Atkins on the wall, the many pictures of Christopher Atkins… the SHRINE devoted to Christopher on the wall. I felt like a voodoo doll. I was some kind of fuck your favorite actor fantasy boy. I was creeped out then and I’m creeped out now. My skin didn’t crawl, it ran. I left and on the way back to my apartment it rained. I didn’t have a coat.
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