I once had a very drunk, one-night stand in Chicago. I had been out drinking with Hattie, around midnight her cousin and his cutie-pie friend joined us. The four of us closed the bars out (4 a.m.), and then hit the famous Weiner Circle. After our hot dogs, I went home with the friend. I was trashed. I thought he lived just outside of the city, but the cab ride was longer than I expected. He was a tall, handsome Midwest all-American corn-fed boy with a great body and penis to go with. We fucked until dawn. At one point I was on top of him riding his dong and drinking champagne out of the bottle. I hate champagne. Lord knows what else I had been drinking that night. Whiskey, I think—a horrible combination. What an idiot. No surprise I felt like death when I woke up. I could barely open my eyes without stabbing pain. I definitely couldn’t deal with what’s-his-name. He was pretty chipper and going on and on about how incredible I was and some shit about marriage. I made him call a taxi while I kept my head hidden under my jacket until it arrived…which took forever. I couldn’t wait to get out of there and crawl into a dark hole. The cab finally came and I painfully jumped up, gave the kid a peck on the cheek, and made my exit. I think I let him shove his number in my pocket, but I don’t think I made any promises.