You Plus Guest...

The invitation to my cousin's wedding said I could bring a guest, but my Republican boyfriend and I had recently called it quits (for the fourth and second to last time) so I had to go at it alone.  At first I tried to get out of it--the last wedding I had been to I downed two bottles of white wine and then woke up at 5am to be a guest on an eye-brow plucking segment on New York's third best morning show--but then my mother informed me that my cousin was forgoing a traditional reception in replace of a rock concert at the Mercury Lounge, and I thought, well why the hell not. I figured I would be so blitzed by the end of cocktail hour that I wouldn't care about the barrage of relatives asking where my boyfriend was, or my mother wondering when my sister or I would do a mitzvah and bring her her first grandchild. Of course, this being Mercury Lounge there wasn't really a cocktail hour. It was just cocktails and lots of them, and not much food to try to tame the beast which was consuming large amounts of alcohol during family functions. "I'll buy you a drink," my father said. I explained that this was open bar, and by definition, there was no need for buying.  I did take the $10 though, in case I'd need it later. Five white wines later I met Samuel, one of the chupah holders during the ceremony. A chupah holder is kind of like the caddy of Jewish weddings, doing all the hard work while someone else gets all the glory. "You here alone?" Samuel asked.


"Me too. We must be the only two single people here."

I would like to think that it was more than that reason that I was introduced to Samuel's tongue on the dance floor, to the point that the groom came up, tapped him on the shoulder and said: "Dude. Stop making out with my cousin."

I would also like to think that by this point my parents were in a cab back to Queens.

Soon enough I was in a cab of my own, on my way back to Samuel's apartment.

"Do you want some gum?" he asked me in a cab, and I took a piece, figuring it might be awhile till I got a chance to brush my teeth.

The next morning, Samuel got up to go to the bathroom, and the following questions filled my head:

1) Where am I?

2) Where does that door go? Where does that other door go?

3) Why did I wear those granny panties?

4) Do I have to be somewhere right now?

5) Why do I smell spearmint?

And slowly, I came to my senses. I remembered I was in Samuel's apartment, and I plotted on ways to slip my name casually into conversation. I remembered that I told Samuel I wasn't going to sleep with him (I searched for evidence to negate this memory and found none, sometimes I amaze myself). I remembered I was supposed to be at work inless than an hour, and reached down for my underwear. Samuel was still in the bathroom. As I slipped my undiesunder the covers to pull them on I realized that the spearmint smell grew stronger. WHY WAS SPEARMINTEMANATING FROM MY NETHER REGIONS?

Samuel got out of the bathroom.

"Hey baby, you're up" he said. "You want some breakfast? You want something else." He got back into bed with me, andI clamped my legs together. He didn't seem to notice, and his hand travelled farther down. HOW COULD HE NOTNOTICE?!

"I have to run," I said.

"Ok, baby, I'll get you a cab."

"Where does that door go?" I asked.


"Where does that door go then?"

"The terrace."

This was a tough moment for me. I wanted to like Samuel, who it turned out was a really nice guy and on top of that, had made some wise investments and bought a duplex apartment with an outdoor garden. But money isn't everything, and Samuel forgot to spit his gum out. He even pursued seeing me again, and I finally agreed to try one more time. But at the end of the date he offered me gum and the flashbacks came rushing back, of what I had to do with a pair of scissors stolen from my office.