Just a Couple of Drunk Sluts Running Around The Big City in 1993

This weekend started out as any other, really: waking up naturally without alarms, watching home improvement/crafting/sewing programs on PBS, talking to the Apple customer service help line.

Escot picked me up in his 1976 Mercedes 300D and we went to the Apple Store at U Village. I wonder if I can find an audio system that only plays one song repeatedly? It would be “Ridin’ Dirty.” They see him rollin’ and they certainly are hatin’. The computer is fixed and I am determined to actually follow through on my promise to always back up everything. “Just this once, please let me recover all my data and I promise I will back up from now on, I swear!” We all do it for various risky behaviors. Except I am not making promises to a magical higher being, I am just making them to myself to stop being a lazy dumbass.

We had planned on going to the lake house on Sunday and closing it for the winter. Rick went out to his car to put some bags in it and discovered that during the night, someone had broken the front passenger window. Seattle was also experiencing it’s first torrential rainstorm. We had to find a place to stash the car for the day since it was raining so hard and there are not any auto glass repair places that were open. I know, seems hard to believe that they don’t think there is a need to be open on Sundays, but we couldn’t find any. We finally stash it in a repair bay at Chaplains Volkswagen and borrow one of their cars and head to the lake.

Six months ago on Sunday, Rick and I ran into each other again after meeting 17 years earlier. I had kept forgetting to look into the deep archives to see if there were any recorded interactions of when Rick and I first met. They are stored out at the lake house. So, I dug through them on Sunday and found the first mention of our meeting and interaction. It is quite poorly written and really just solidifies the beliefs and hazy memories that we were just drunk sluts back then. Speaking for myself, that is, and I am sure Rick could not dispute that assertion. It is cute, by no means long lost lovers separated by time, distance, a world war, or anything of that magnitude. I was 23, kicking around the big city, crossing paths with people at various bars, clubs, and cafes. So, here is the TRANSCRIPT from that portion of my life:

14 February 1993: Then on Friday evening, I went over to Scotty’s house to go to a party. Everyone I recognize from the clubs was there. I had way too much to drink and then went to QFC to buy more beer.

Back at the party, we drank for a while and then I got talked into going to Neighbours with all these people I totally didn’t know. I went and had a blast. I boogied on down and then we all piled into the car and went back to the party, this time it must have been at least 4:00 am.

All this time, I was with the same people: Rick, a cute little spanish boy who I’ve seen at the clubs for a while, Michelle: a drop-dead beautiful girl with the same eye color as me, and her brother, Michael, equally as beautiful.

Everyone except Rick and Me went home by then. So Rick and I went back into the part and hung our for a while. I kissed him in the bathroom. I know I mentioned I was drunk, really drunk. Aaron showed up and he gave us a ride to Rick’s apartment and I crashed there. We didn’t have sex, per se. We were both too drunk and too tired to have sex. We just slept together, naked.

The whole time we were in bed, I began sobering up and realizing how wrong I was. A: You do not sleep with strangers. B: You do not go to strangers apartments drunk (especially when you do not know where you are!)

We woke up at 11:30 am and his friend Lee came over. The three of us went dow to the market and bought breakfast ingredients and champagne. Scrambled eggs, champagne, and orange juice. Good champagne too, $20 a bottle. I guess Rick makes a lot of money.

Then Rick’s roommate came home with another bottle of champagne. We drank that too. By now, it was getting dark, so we went to the store to buy more champagne and got ready to go out. I took a shower and borrowed some of Rick’s clothes. I looked fabulous! I wore this black and white striped Rayon shirt/jacket that totally glowed under the black lights. I received tons of compliments on it.

Here is where it starts getting a bit strange. Rick’s boyfriend arrives (BOYFRIEND!). So, I’m feeling like the grand fool of all time, king fool, the fool of fools. A pawn’s fool.

[then I apparently copy the definition of “fool” from a dictionary]

So, my entire evening was spent going from one person to another, kind of keeping my distance from Rick. He said he was sorry and I know it wasn’t malicious. I didn’t feel angry or anything.

16 February 1993: I’ve been trying to get ahold of Rick so I can give him back his clothes, but he’s been sick.

I saw Chuck tonight and he told me how Rick was all over me all night. Oops! I guess I noticed, but didn’t notice the severity of it.

Anyway, I’m confused about the whole thing. I’d like to meed him once for coffee, completely sober. It may be completely different.

18 February 1993: [The only entry contains a list titled “Favorite Dog Names” and the only reason I even mention it is because #3 is Chelsea Clinton. Funny.]

21 February 1993: Last night my roommate and I went to the Vogue together. He sort of went off on his own and left me to play with my silly club friends.

Rick was there, drunk as usual. His boyfriend was there too. He still hasn’t broken it off with him. I’m thinking that maybe I’m not going to date Rick even after he breaks up with Craig. Rick probably isn’t the right kind of boy for me.

Anyway, for some stupid reason, I ended up making out with Rick at my apartment. Our pants stayed on.

I really do not know. I guess it would be nice to hang out with him when he’s (and I’m) sober.

22 February 1993: Rick called yesterday. We are going to go out some time this week.

28 February 1993: On Thursday, I went to ReBar with Scotty. We sat out in the parking lot and split a 40. We felt very Bremerton. then we had a few more once we got inside.

Rick was there, he looked very good as usual. Danny, the guy from Urban Outfitters, sort of schmoozed on me a bit. Also, one of the go go boys told me he thought I was sexy.

I went to Ashlee‘s apartment on Saturday and from there we went to the Frontier Room and had drinks. Ashlee has a fake I.D. now so we can go everywhere, we headed to the Vogue. Somewhere along the way, Ashlee picked up these two boys. They’re in a band (who isn’t?).

Rick was at the Vogue, but wasn’t feeling well. I guess he did a lot of [drugs] on Friday and was feeling all strung out. Then there was something about this guy who want money or something, so he left with Lee.

20 March 1993: Thursday night I was a drunken mess. Rebar should be renamed “ReBlur.”

From then on, there is no more mention of Rick in the archives. Amazing to think that from that brief interaction 17 years ago, we reconnected and have made our relationship into what it is today. It says a lot about timing, I guess.

In case you were wondering whay the 1993 Scott looked like and just why he was ever so popular, here is a photograph taken around Easter of that year:

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