I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell (32 page)

were done, she had to get home to her boyfriend, and the smell wa
s
oppressive. After she left and the nurse got everything back to normal
,
Ray-Ray looked over at me and said
:
Ray-Ray "I ... I ... I ... ruined ... your date.
"
Tucker "No man, it's cool, she was done anyway.
"
Ray-Ray [He laughed for awhile before he got this out] "You ... you ..
.
alright ... man.
"

The Playboy was a pretty good one (the one with the Latin TV stars)
,
and I enjoyed it for our remaining day and a half together. When I wa
s
leaving I asked Ray-Ray if he wanted to keep the Playboy. He shoo
k
his head yes, and said
,
"I ... I ... I gonna need it.
"

While I lived in San Francisco I met a girl out at some dot com party
.
She was cute, the lights were low, the liquor was free, I was horny
-
always a happy confluence of circumstances
.

We ended up back at her place in the South Market district of Sa
n
Francisco (I lived in Mountain View, which is about 40 minutes sout
h
by car, so this was convenient). We start kissing, fumbling with button
s
and hooks and straps, things start coming off, when she suddenl
y
pulls back and stops me
:
Girl "Before we go any further, I have to tell you something.
"
Tucker "Umm, OK.
"
Girl "I just got over genital warts.
"
Tucker [A blank, unregistering stare
]
Girl "This always happens.
"
Tucker ''I'm sorry, I didn't hear you, what did you just say?
"
Girl "This always happens ...1used to have genital warts, but they'r
e
gone now. HPV is usually not transmittable if there isn't a breakou
t
and you use a condom. You don't ... really have to worry about anything
,
but I thought ... that I should probably tell you.
"
Tucker [Another prolonged, blank, unregistering stare.
]
Girl "You were going to use a condom anyway. You won't get them. It'
s
OK.
"
Tucker [putting my clothes back on] "What's the best way to get bac
k
to the interstate from here?
"

In retrospect, I kinda feel bad. I probably have every STD known t
o
man, yet this poor girl was honest with me and I totally dissed her. Sh
e
courageously exposed part of her soul to me, and I callously stompe
d

it. Oh well ... that's what she gets for wanting to fuck Tucker Max.

When I was in NYC to finalize the deal for this book, I met some friends out for drinks and invited a few girls along that had emailed me asking to hang out. One girl in particular, "Ho," took a liking to my friend Credit, and flirted with him all night. This girl was obviously playing the "girlfriend" game and looking at Credit as boyfriend material: she was nice, a bit coy, not overly aggressive, laughed at all his jokes, and instead of hooking up with him she only gave him her number. Credit left early because he had to get up for work the next morning, but this girl wanted to go out drinking more, so she took me and my friend Junior with her. Not even two drinks into the next bar, she is all over me: hands on my crotch, seductive looks, the entire slut repertoire. I ignore her, instead paying attention to my vodka clubs, but this only makes her more into me.

Junior lives in Connecticut and we accidentally missed the last train out of the city, so Ho politely invited us to stay at her place. When we got there, she gave Junior the couch and told me I could sleep on the floor in her room.

Riiiiight. Not even two minutes after she turned out the lights I was in her bed and we were tearing the clothes off each other. We both get naked and I slide it in. Things are going great, when she stops and gets all serious: Ho "Wait, I don't know if we should do this." Tucker "Why?" Ho "Well, I don't want to ruin things with your friend Credit." Tucker "HAHHAHMHAH ... I think it's a bit late for that." Ho "NO! You have to promise not to say anything to him! PROMISE!" After being a lying ass hole during my younger years and realizing how awful it is, it is now a rock-solid policy of mine to never ever lie to a girl ... but sometimes immediate biological urges force me into situations where I am forced to break this rule. Tucker "OK ... fine. Let's keep going, I'm not finished yet." Of course I ended up telling Credit. I mean-come on. When I am midcoitus, a girl could extract a promise from me to trade my first-born for a Twix bar. Plus, I had to tell him. God forbid if he dated this girl, fell in love and got married to her. What a shitty wedding that would have been.

I have been saying for years that phone companies should invent
a
phone with a breathalyzer attached. I cannot tell you how many time
s
I have made awful, terrible drunk dials and not even remembered i
t
the next day. But one time stands out from the rest
.

I was solidly Tucker Max Drunk after a long Friday night bar-hopping
,
and came home alone at around 2am. I hadn't fucked for like fou
r
days-a serious dry spell for me-so I started scrolling through m
y
phone, calling every female name I come across
:
Tucker "Janet, come over, I'm horny.
"
Janet "Tucker, I live in Washington DC.
"
Tucker "So?
"
Janet "You are in Chicago.
"
Tucker "Oh. Do you know any girls in Chicago who want to com
e
over?
"
Tucker "Krista, come over.
"
Krista "Tucker, it's late.
"
Tucker "My horniness is not relegated to business hours.
"
Krista "I don't know.
"
Tucker "I SAID DO IT!
"
Krista "Well, maybe.
"

I don't really recall the amount of time I spent on the phone or eve
n
how many girls I called, but I do remember having the distinct impres
-
sion that I was shit out of luck. I relegated myself to the couch to pas
s
out while watching re-runs of The Shield, when all of the sudden ther
e
was a knock on the door. It was an irregular fuck buddy of mine
,
Sandra. Sweet
!

She comes in and she wants a beer, so I tell her where the fridge is
.
We kinda start making out on the sofa a little, and then there is anothe
r
knock on the door. Who the fuck is at my door at 3am
?
Uh oh. It's another booty call, Liz
.

Tucker "Well ... do you want a beer?
"
Both of the girls just kinda stood there, alternately staring at eac
h
other and at me. There is a way to turn this situation from disaster t
o
triumph, and even though it's a long shot, the only way that you ca
n
ever win at the table is to throw the dice
:
Tucker "So ... Liz, uh Sandra is kinda into girls, and I know you've alway
s
wanted to experiment. What do you say?
"

You know that noise girls make when they are so pissed that they can't even form words? It's a sort of cross between "uh" and a reptilian hiss? Yeah, she made that noise, turned on her heels, and stormed out.

Oh well, at least Sandra was still there, right? I turned to her, and she was setting her beer down and reaching for her purse. Time to act quick: Tucker "No wait, honey, you don't have to go. I didn't even invite her over, she is a psycho who-" I was interrupted by some unidentified noise at the bottom of my stairs. It sounded like two girls talking to each other, followed by footsteps, and capped off with the appearance of Krista at my still open door. Tucker "Oh boy." I wish I could tell some story about how I turned this into some amazing foursome, but since I have a policy to tell only true stories, I can't. Let's just say that it did not end well. Things were thrown, curses hurled, none of the three ever came over again, and I had to recruit a whole new stable of booty calls. Maybe a better man than me could have turned that night into something out of Penthouse Letters, but all I did was end up with my dick in my hand and a mess in my apartment.

While in law school I dated a girl named "Vicki." A total blonde southern girl; really hot, really sweet, and really stupid. When we'd hang out with my law school friends she'd be very quiet, and whisper things to me like, "I am afraid to talk to GoldenBoy. He uses such big words."

She used Depo-Provera as her birth control, and though it was effective at keeping her from polluting the world with little Tuckers, it caused her to spot occasionally, and she told me this and it usually wasn't a problem. [for the ignorant males, "spotting" is when a girl bleeds when not on her period]

One night we came home drunk and proceeded to fuck the shit out of each other. Sex with Vicki was awesome because she was one of those girls who can cum with virtually no effort through regular sex. Every minute or two she would have an orgasm. I loved this not because she got off so much, but because I could be ruthlessly selfish in

bed and it didn't matter. As long as I lasted more than a minute
,
everything took care of itself
.

This bout of drunk sex started off the same as the others; I humpe
d
and pumped and she screamed and came ... but after a short time
,
my dick started to hurt. I kept pumping away, she kept coming, and th
e
pain kept getting worse and worse. It was a weird moment: Thin
k
about what goes through your mind when you are fucking now mi
x
those thoughts with flashes of intense, grinding pain on you
r
PENIS. This greatly confused my drunk brain, but I still plowed on
,
determined to not let anything-not even obvious and searing pain
-
prevent me from reaching the ultimate goal of virtually everything I do i
n
life: personal satisfaction
.

I concentrated and was able to pinpoint the actual location of the pain
:
It felt like the head of my penis was scraping up against somethin
g
hard and abrasive. I was drunk, so my first thought was that my dic
k
was so big it was hitting her cervix and scraping up against that. As i
f
her cervix was made of sandpaper or something. Yes, I can be tha
t
stupid when drunk and fucking
.

I tried to fuck through the pain. I really tried to convince myself tha
t
everything was OK, but when my eyes started tearing up from th
e
agony, I had to stop
.

Tucker "Baby-something is wrong with your vagina.
"
She looked confused, and then kinda hurt, "What do you mean?
"
My penis was still penetrating her, so I tried to be diplomatic in m
y
explanation
,

"Bitch, my fucking dick HURTS. Something is fucked u
p
with your fucking pussy.
"

She gets up and goes into the bathroom, and I examine my penis
.
There is a bright red circular area to the right of my urethra (pee hole)
.
Almost all the skin on the right side of the head of my penis has bee
n
stripped off. I delicately touch the red throbbing sore, and it burns.
I
have played many football games on Astroturf, and I recognize exactl
y
what this is: Turf burn
.

I have fucking turf burn on my dick? What the fuck? I am confused an
d
pissed off. I mean, how the fuck can I have goddamn turf burn on m
y
dick
?

I hear the bathroom door open and I stand up and prepare to yell a
t
Vicki ... and then I see her. She is crying hysterically, tears streamin
g
down her face, holding something in her hand. Her eyes meet mine
,
she busts out in an even louder wail, and I look into her hand. I don'
t
really recognize what it is until she says
,
"I'm so sorry. I totally forgot I had it in ...
"

In her hand was a reddish-brown, smashed up Tampax
.
Vicki had put one in before we went out drinking, and got so drunk sh
e
forgot to take it out before we had sex. This was what my dick hea
d
was rubbing up against for that 15 minutes of agony ... a FUCKIN
G
TAMPON
.

As big of an asshole as I am, I'm still a sucker for a hot crying girl, so
I
gave Vicki a hug and told her everything was OK. Then she stoppe
d
crying and I cut her throat. I'm just kidding. But, true to form for tur
f
burns, I did wake up the next morning with a yellowish brown scab o
n
the head of my penis. Which developed into a small scar that you'ca
n
still see to this day ... if you are a hot girl
.