Assholes Finish First (13 page)

From: Tucker

To: Hate, PWJ, GoldenBoy, El Bingeroso, Credit, Jojo, SlingBlade

Subject: re: I have to come clean

PWJ, you hooked up with a girl who had cancer? How did you know? What, did you feel her breasts and there was a lump?

And wait a minute—PWJ dogs a girl with cancer, and I am the one banned from his sister’s house? I will never understand why people get so upset at things I don’t even remember saying.

Too many of you see this party as a disaster. I disagree. Consider what that party would have been like without the six of us:

Number of bottles of liquor brought by us: 15+

Number brought by others: 0 (seriously)

Number of mixers brought by us: 5

By others: 1 (a bottle of Sprite, which I had to look around for)

Number of shots passed out to girls by us: at least 50

By others: None that I saw, and I parked by the liquor table

Number of hookups by us with girls we weren’t dating: 6

Number of hookups by others with girls that they weren’t dating: 0

Number of fights started by us: 3

Number started by others: 0

Girls that left the party b/c of us: 2 confirmed, many others suspected

By others: 0

Number of people pissed off by us: 25, at least

By others: 1, maybe

Funny comments by us (including party MVP, Mr. Peepers): 1,345

By others: 12

Number of times cops called because of me yelling in the front yard: 1

By others: 0

Gentlemen, that is a record of our greatness. We are the champions, my friends.

From: PWJ

To: Hate, Tucker Max, GoldenBoy, El Bingeroso, Credit, Jojo, SlingBlade

Subject: I have to come clean

To clarify: I had no idea the girl had a disease of any type at the time of the hookup. And she wasn’t in chemo or anything like that. Still, I am pretty sure I’m going to hell now.

Also, I forgot about this: In the morning when I woke up and went to the bathroom, this was scrawled on the mirror of my sister’s bathroom, in lipstick:

“LAWYERS SUCK.”

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Occurred—April 2005

A month after I finished
IHTSBIH
, but before it came out in stores, I got this email [edited for relevance]:

From: The Dallas Heart Ball

To: Tucker Max

Date: Tue, Apr 12, 2005

Subject: We want you to be a bachelor at our auction in Dallas

Tucker,

I have been following your site for a while after a guy I worked with forwarded me the link. I’d like to extend an invitation for you to come to Dallas for one of the best charity events of the year.

Here’s the pitch: I am on the board of the Dallas Heart Ball. We are an all-volunteer organization, and all of our net profits go to the Dallas Heart Ball Fund for Pediatric Cardiology Research at UT Southwestern and Children’s Medical Center here in Dallas. One of our premier events for the last two years has been our Bachelor/Bachelorette Auction (we are the only organization that has bachelorettes). We learned last year that having local celebrities helps us raise more money.

We would like to have you as a celebrity bachelor at our event. Basically, each bachelor/ette is responsible for getting
together a date package. As for the date packages, the sky is the limit. Some include trips out of town, some are skydiving, and some are to sporting events. If you would like, we could have someone help you put a package together, but you probably have better resources than we do to solicit a “dream date” with Tucker Max.

We would love to have you appear as a bachelor. From reading your message board and blog, I get the sense that there are plenty of women out there who would purchase a date with Tucker Max. I think it would be fun to see just how much they are willing to pay.

I look forward to hearing from you and hope you decide to participate in this event.

[Name Redacted]

I think I laughed for a good hour at this. They want me to come up with my own date and then have women pay for it? Oh my. I couldn’t get my response out fast enough:

From: Tucker Max

To: The Dallas Heart Ball

Date: Tue, Apr 12, 2005

Subject: Re: We want you to be a bachelor at our auction in Dallas

I am totally in. But I just hope you know what you are asking for.

She assured me that she understood. That always makes me laugh. People think they know, but they don’t know. Like Mike Tyson says, “Everyone has a plan until they get punched in the mouth.”

My date proposal to them:

From: Tucker Max

To: The Dallas Heart Ball

Date: Wed, Apr 13, 2005

Subject: For the “Tucker Max” Date, how about this…

The Tucker Max Experience

You will fly to Chicago for two days of sightseeing, partying, and drinking with me, Tucker Max. The details:

—We’ll set a mutually convenient weekend for you to come up to Chicago.

—I will call at least once to reschedule because something better came along and I traded up. So make sure to keep at least three weekends free.

—We will talk a few times before you come to Chicago. If I haven’t met you yet, I will demand pictures of you, taken from multiple angles. This is not so I can more easily identify you at the airport. It is to determine if you are hot enough to hear from me prior to your arrival.

—When you get to the airport, make sure to bring a credit card, because it is highly probable that I either forgot to buy your plane ticket or made a mistake in the reservation.

—You will fly in on a Saturday morning, and since I was out drinking the night before, there is no chance I’m picking you up. Besides, O’Hare is really fucking far away.

—This is OK though, because the El train runs right to my house and is easy to use. Don’t pay attention to the scary-looking homeless guy on the train, he only wants your spare change, not your spare kidney. This isn’t Detroit.

—I will answer the door in a white T-shirt with at least one hot sauce stain on it, gym shorts, messy hair, unshaven, reeking of pit sweat, stale alcohol, and fresh sex.

—Depending on how early you get to my place, there may be a girl still there. She should be getting dressed to leave by that point. If not, just ignore her. She’ll be gone soon—this is YOUR special day, not hers.

—I will ask you what you want to do. If it’s something I don’t feel like doing, I will pretend you didn’t say anything and then ask you again what you want to do. I will repeat this until your suggestion is something that sounds good to me, or until you get frustrated and ask me what I want to do. (FYI, if your suggestion includes anything that pleasures me while requiring no work on my part—e.g., fellatio—I can guarantee I will like it.)

—If there is anything about you that annoys me, I will tell you so. You will leave Chicago knowing everything that is wrong with you. If you try to defend yourself by criticizing me back, I will quickly find your deepest insecurity and viciously attack it for a solid 45 minutes. I call this “foreplay.”

—I constantly have my hands in my pants. I’m not jacking off or even playing with myself; sometimes I just get afraid I’ve lost my penis somewhere, and I like to make sure it’s still there. Just a heads-up.

—After I ignore your suggestions on what to do for a few hours, I’ll be hungry for lunch. I will ask you what you want, but regardless of what you say, we will go to my favorite place in Chicago: Harold’s Chicken Shack.

—Being that you’re the type of person who goes to charity balls, you might be shocked by the “urban” location and
decor of Harold’s. Don’t worry: The bulletproof glass is there to protect the cashier—she’s the one who gets robbed, not you.

—I will snort and grunt as I shovel the food into my mouth with my bare hands. I’ll get grease and hot sauce all over my face and my already stained shirt. I will offer you a chicken bone I’ve picked clean, “Want some?” The look on your face will be funny to me. I will repeat this for as many times as I find it funny.

—After this glorious ghetto feast, I will take a two-hour nap on the sofa. Be careful, I fart a lot after I eat fried foods.

—I don’t care what you do during that time, but no, I am not going to cuddle with you. Unless it is postcoital cuddling.

—After I wake up, I’ll feel bad that you flew all this way and didn’t even get to see any of the famous Chicago sights, so I’ll ask you what you want to do.

—I’ll pretend to pay attention to what you are saying, while I go to the fridge. I’ll get a few beers, pound them, then ask you again what you want to do.

—Depending on how many beers I’ve had, I may repeatedly point to my crotch and nod approvingly. This is what I call “a hint.”

—If you haven’t given up at this point and just surrendered to my will, bravo. I’ll remind you that this is your special day, and we’re going to do what you want to do.

—Regardless of your request, we will head to an early all-you-can-drink with my friends. You may ask if I am going to change or shower before we go out. I’ll tell you that I will, but just walk straight out the door. I’m so funny!

—When we get to the bar, I will “forget” my money and you will have to pay for both of us. Fair warning: Unless I am already drunk and I really like you, don’t expect me to thank you for it. My presence should be thanks enough.

—At the bar, I’ll introduce you to my friends and I might get your first drink for you (to make sure the drinks actually are on your tab), but after that I will wander around talking to other girls to see if I can trade up.

—Some of my friends will be nice to you and try to help you forget that I am ignoring you in favor of other women. At least a few of my friends will try to hook up with you (the hotter you are, the more they will hit on you, so if none do, that means you’re ugly). Don’t believe the awful lies they tell you. You know the REAL me.

—A dozen or so vodka clubs into the night, and after I’ve already pissed off most of the other girls in the bar, if there are no better prospects, I will come back and talk to you to see if you want to hook up with me.

—If not, we’ll go to another place, with more and different girls.

—On to the next, rinse and repeat.

—And the next.

—By the time we get to the fourth or fifth bar, I will be completely shit-housed, will have stains on top of stains on my shirt, there may or may not be several whores trailing us, vying for my attention, and at least one of my friends will have told you that you are too good for me and should love him, because he is such a wonderful person. (FYI: He’s a hater and a liar.)

—Hopefully by this point I’ve succeeded in breaking you down to the point where you just give in—exasperated surrender sex is the best! I’ll give you a night so memorable, it’ll help you reach a place addiction specialists refer to as “the bottom.”

—If you think you love me, then I’m sorry your dad was so mean to you. I’ll show you that I care by shooting my compassion juice into you and then cuddling with you as it leaks out onto my sheets, because after all, it is YOUR night.

—If you hate me so much that it’s obvious you aren’t going to fuck me, I will do something to cause you either to storm off in anger or go home with one of my friends. Then I can go fuck one of the various sluts orbiting me without feeling bad about ruining YOUR day. You get angry revenge sex, and my friend gets laid. Everybody wins!

—We will wake up the next morning just in time for you to rush to the El and catch your flight. Since you took the train in and already know the way, I won’t bother getting out of bed.

—When you get home, you will regret ever meeting me. If we had sex, you will rush to the free clinic to get tested. The results will come back negative, and you’ll think to yourself, “At least the fact that he passed out a minute into sex has some benefit.”

—Any and/or all of this is changeable, revocable, etc., at my will or discretion. (Insert legalese where I waive all responsibility for my actions despite what I do. I would type it out, but I didn’t go to class in law school.)

—If you made it to this point, you probably think I am a funny writer. I am. And you’re probably also thinking I have to be kidding. I’m not.

—Seriously.

Can’t wait to meet you!

I am sure you can guess how this turned out, but I’ll give you the executive summary anyway: The Dallas Heart Ball freaked out, and I was immediately uninvited.

I am really not sure what they expected, but like I said: They think they know, but they have no idea.

I’d hate to see the work I put into this wasted, so let me end with a side note: This date proposal is still on the table for any charity that would like to put it to use. Email me and we’ll talk: [email protected].

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