As much as I enjoy debaucherous nights with my nephew, I also enjoy our more virtuous nights. Two Saturday night's ago was one of them. We met at my place, then found a kick ass parking spot a mere 1.5 blocks away from Spitfire where we ate great food, drank beer and cider, and watched the UFC prelims and main card. It was my first UFC fights - I loved it and felt fortunate to watch two of the biggest rematches in UFC history! Finally, a televised sport I enjoy. After the fights, we scoped out a few dance clubs but it was too early to go in so we went to one of my favorite dive bars, Shorty's. Since I was designated driver, Nephew drank beer and I drank water. We changed into our clubbing clothes in the restrooms, and soon it was time to hit Tia Lou's dance club.
We'd been to Tia Lou's a couple times in summer and had fun (still want to write about those nights - talk about debauchery!) so waiting in line seemed worth it. But my knee was cranky and the crowd seemed disappointingly different than before. Nephew got us AMFs; fortunately mine was weak. We went upstairs hoping to go on the outside patio, but it was closed due to the cold weather. We ambled back downstairs to the dance floor. Nephew didn't yet feel like dancing, so I hit the dance floor alone. A tall, dark man with long dreadlocks blew kisses at me, then swooped in behind me and took liberties with my clothed body. Within five minutes (probably less), his hand went up my skirt, caressed my ass, and reached around for my patch of pubic hair. Holy shit. I wasn't interested so I pushed his hands away but they found their way back. When the second song ended, I left the dance floor in search of Nephew who I found upstairs in a dark corner. Nephew was displeased with the crowd, so we agreed to bail after a few songs. We pushed our way downstairs and back onto the dance floor. Nephew stayed on the sidelines but I went in again - deeper this time and near the scantly clad dancing ladies. Before the first song ended, a short Hispanic man latched onto me, but his hands didn't wander. A few songs in, he dry humped my ass with enough force to push me off balance several times. His hands started wandering. Eye roll. Is dancing the new (old?) safe sex? Or is it a precursor to sex? Does it have anything to do with sex? Sigh. Am I getting old? Or maybe I was too sober and uninterested? I wanted to jet. I kept an eye on Nephew and waited for the "let's get outta here" sign but he was finally cutting loose and I felt happy for him. I smiled as I watched him dance while my ass got dry-hump raped. I could have walked off the dance floor anytime but it was all innocent fun. Even so, I was relieved when Nephew motioned it was time to go. Phew. "I gotta go," I yelled in my dance partner's ear. He motioned for me to give him my number. "Sorry, man, I gotta go," I said then bailed like an illegal immigrant who heard la migra. Nephew paid the tab, I fetched our coats, and we met outside. Man was it cold!
It was close to 1am but we were still rearing to go. I drove us to our next destination: the lower floor of Alibi Room. Dark, dungeony, and awesome. DJ Mullet spun some cool beats, the bartenders sang along, and Dirty Dancing aired on the TV. Yep, dancing is safe sex. Nephew tried a few new "manly" drinks and some tried and true drinks. I drank water and sneaked tiny sips of Nephew's alcoholic concoctions. Within an hour, Nephew was tanked. With delight, I watched his transition from a shy man to an uninhibited man - he sang, danced, and flirted with a woman. We begrudgingly hoofed it to the car at 2am. Neither of us was ready for the night to end, and Nephew needed food. It marvels me how a 44-year old woman and a 23-year old man can paint the town red together. My soul must be infused with a youthful spirit.
Occurred: 12/28-29/2013
We'd been to Tia Lou's a couple times in summer and had fun (still want to write about those nights - talk about debauchery!) so waiting in line seemed worth it. But my knee was cranky and the crowd seemed disappointingly different than before. Nephew got us AMFs; fortunately mine was weak. We went upstairs hoping to go on the outside patio, but it was closed due to the cold weather. We ambled back downstairs to the dance floor. Nephew didn't yet feel like dancing, so I hit the dance floor alone. A tall, dark man with long dreadlocks blew kisses at me, then swooped in behind me and took liberties with my clothed body. Within five minutes (probably less), his hand went up my skirt, caressed my ass, and reached around for my patch of pubic hair. Holy shit. I wasn't interested so I pushed his hands away but they found their way back. When the second song ended, I left the dance floor in search of Nephew who I found upstairs in a dark corner. Nephew was displeased with the crowd, so we agreed to bail after a few songs. We pushed our way downstairs and back onto the dance floor. Nephew stayed on the sidelines but I went in again - deeper this time and near the scantly clad dancing ladies. Before the first song ended, a short Hispanic man latched onto me, but his hands didn't wander. A few songs in, he dry humped my ass with enough force to push me off balance several times. His hands started wandering. Eye roll. Is dancing the new (old?) safe sex? Or is it a precursor to sex? Does it have anything to do with sex? Sigh. Am I getting old? Or maybe I was too sober and uninterested? I wanted to jet. I kept an eye on Nephew and waited for the "let's get outta here" sign but he was finally cutting loose and I felt happy for him. I smiled as I watched him dance while my ass got dry-hump raped. I could have walked off the dance floor anytime but it was all innocent fun. Even so, I was relieved when Nephew motioned it was time to go. Phew. "I gotta go," I yelled in my dance partner's ear. He motioned for me to give him my number. "Sorry, man, I gotta go," I said then bailed like an illegal immigrant who heard la migra. Nephew paid the tab, I fetched our coats, and we met outside. Man was it cold!
It was close to 1am but we were still rearing to go. I drove us to our next destination: the lower floor of Alibi Room. Dark, dungeony, and awesome. DJ Mullet spun some cool beats, the bartenders sang along, and Dirty Dancing aired on the TV. Yep, dancing is safe sex. Nephew tried a few new "manly" drinks and some tried and true drinks. I drank water and sneaked tiny sips of Nephew's alcoholic concoctions. Within an hour, Nephew was tanked. With delight, I watched his transition from a shy man to an uninhibited man - he sang, danced, and flirted with a woman. We begrudgingly hoofed it to the car at 2am. Neither of us was ready for the night to end, and Nephew needed food. It marvels me how a 44-year old woman and a 23-year old man can paint the town red together. My soul must be infused with a youthful spirit.
Our drive home was entertaining. Some women were walking by Greenlake and Nephew exclaimed "Just look at the ass on that one!" This was one of many ass comments I heard over the years. "You're an ass man, aren't you?" I accused. "Well, I like boobs and asses. But women wear yoga pants and their asses are more visible than their boobs. It's like 'BAM!' in your face. So, I notice their asses first" he explained. Ahhh - I felt enlightened. I wondered what he would do if a woman wore yoga pants and a tight shirt? Rather than go to Beth's 24 hour diner, Nephew suggested we cook at home, watch horror movies, and drink. Sweet! "My fridge is on the fritz but I have some eggs I can cook" I explained. "Yeah, that sounds good," he replied. Then I could feel his brain wheels turning and out it came: "I trust myself drunk in the kitchen more than I trust you sober in the kitchen, so I'll cook. You just relax and I'll cook. It's in my blood, you know." His mom's a chef, so I know. When he and his brother were young, I didn't know how to cook well so I didn't cook for them. We had easy things like pizza from the local pizza parlor, or macaroni and cheese. I'm a good cook now, but that's not what he knows so he got no argument from me.
When we got home, we queued up Pet Semetary. Nephew wanted to play a drinking game: every time we saw a frightening scene, we had a to drink a shot. Sign me up. "Where are your shot glasses?" he asked. I pointed to their cupboard. He noticed that I had several Hard Rock Cafe shot glasses. "Yeah, there from different cities in different countries," I replied. "They have them in different countries?" he asked. "Yes. What city is yours from?" I asked. He looked at his. "Berlin" he replied. I looked at mine. "I have Amsterdam. London had the first Hard Rock Cafe. And when we go to Europe I'm going to drag your ass into every Hard Rock Cafe I find and I'm gonna get a shot glass," I explained. The he stopped dead in his tracks, looked at me, and gave me perhaps the best compliment ever: "Would you please find a woman my age with your exact personality so I can impregnate her immediately?!" he demanded. Coming from a man who's not yet ready for marriage or children, that was especially awesome. "I wish I could, man," I laughed, beaming inside. I'll probably use this to embarrass him at some point. Hee hee. He filled the shot glasses with Sailor Jerry, then he cooked. Yeah, he set off the smoke detector and broke one of my china plates, but his egg sandwich wad damn good and I appreciated that he wanted to take care of me.
As we dined on our egg sandwiches, we traveled down memory lane and he peppered me with a variety of questions. "Do you remember Video Palace where we used to rent all the scary movies?" "How did you meet my mom?" "How did you get stuck watching us?" "Do you remember how much I love Terminator movies?" And stuff like that. When I watched him and his brother, we rented scary movies and stayed up late watching them. Every time we went to the video store, we negotiated how many movies we could rent at one time. Nephew admitted that he had nightmares but he liked them, and that he knew being exposed to those sorts of movies could cause him to become twisted but he didn't care because he loved it. And, yeah, he and his brother are twisted like me. Somehow my mom's cousin's son and I got the fucked up, demented, and twisted genes in my family, and I passed them on to Nephew and his brother through nurture rather than nature. Muah ha ha ha. I'm so proud! After this memorable journey, we watched Pet Semetary, drank at some not-so-frightening moments, and passed out. When we woke up, we went to El Chupacabra on Alki for lunch to round out our lovely Aunt/Nephew weekend. It was a wonderfully virtuous yet drunken night.
When we got home, we queued up Pet Semetary. Nephew wanted to play a drinking game: every time we saw a frightening scene, we had a to drink a shot. Sign me up. "Where are your shot glasses?" he asked. I pointed to their cupboard. He noticed that I had several Hard Rock Cafe shot glasses. "Yeah, there from different cities in different countries," I replied. "They have them in different countries?" he asked. "Yes. What city is yours from?" I asked. He looked at his. "Berlin" he replied. I looked at mine. "I have Amsterdam. London had the first Hard Rock Cafe. And when we go to Europe I'm going to drag your ass into every Hard Rock Cafe I find and I'm gonna get a shot glass," I explained. The he stopped dead in his tracks, looked at me, and gave me perhaps the best compliment ever: "Would you please find a woman my age with your exact personality so I can impregnate her immediately?!" he demanded. Coming from a man who's not yet ready for marriage or children, that was especially awesome. "I wish I could, man," I laughed, beaming inside. I'll probably use this to embarrass him at some point. Hee hee. He filled the shot glasses with Sailor Jerry, then he cooked. Yeah, he set off the smoke detector and broke one of my china plates, but his egg sandwich wad damn good and I appreciated that he wanted to take care of me.
As we dined on our egg sandwiches, we traveled down memory lane and he peppered me with a variety of questions. "Do you remember Video Palace where we used to rent all the scary movies?" "How did you meet my mom?" "How did you get stuck watching us?" "Do you remember how much I love Terminator movies?" And stuff like that. When I watched him and his brother, we rented scary movies and stayed up late watching them. Every time we went to the video store, we negotiated how many movies we could rent at one time. Nephew admitted that he had nightmares but he liked them, and that he knew being exposed to those sorts of movies could cause him to become twisted but he didn't care because he loved it. And, yeah, he and his brother are twisted like me. Somehow my mom's cousin's son and I got the fucked up, demented, and twisted genes in my family, and I passed them on to Nephew and his brother through nurture rather than nature. Muah ha ha ha. I'm so proud! After this memorable journey, we watched Pet Semetary, drank at some not-so-frightening moments, and passed out. When we woke up, we went to El Chupacabra on Alki for lunch to round out our lovely Aunt/Nephew weekend. It was a wonderfully virtuous yet drunken night.
Occurred: 12/28-29/2013
Written: 1/2-8/15
