Spring break has arrived, and so have many college students looking for a party.
My agent called me today and offered me a show that involved twenty college girls throwing a birthday party for a friend. The party took place at a rented beach house. Sounds exciting, right?
When I show up to the beach house, I see not only girls walking in and out of the place, but boys too. On top of that, everyone looked about eighteen or nineteen.
I entered the house, went to the living room, and performed the typical cop routine on the birthday girl. Most of the girls, even the birthday girl, in the room scattered throughout various parts of the house. With the exception of two girls, the whole living was empty. Several boys, frat boys to be specific, were watching from the kitchen.
Out of the two girls who remained, one approached me and told me that she hired me. Then she demanded that I bend over so she could spank me. I don't know what it was, but her tone grated on my nerves. Perhaps I became offended because she was ordering me around like a dog. Regardless of the reason, I told her that I didn't want to be spanked at the moment.
She just sneered at me. "You're pathetic," she said.
I ignored that. Then I ignored her for the rest of the night. I went to the other rooms for a last-ditch effort to round up some participation from the other girls, since I was paid fairly well for showing up. The other girls either hid or smoked or drank. Within ten minutes into the party, I only danced with three girls out of twenty. I decided to put my clothes back on and leave.
Several girls assumed that it was safe for them to reappear. They entered the kitchen to get drinks and talked with me a bit. I discovered that everyone at the party was a freshman in college, and the birthday girl turned nineteen. No one offered me anything to eat or drink as they helped themselves. Usually, the hosts of the party would offer some type of hospitality. Instead, these girls asked me stupid questions as I was getting dressed.
"So do you feel lucky to strip in front of us?"
"I bet Melissa was the hottest girl you'd ever danced with, wasn't she?" one brunette asked me with a tinge of mockery in her tone.
I shrugged. I felt that the brunette was suggesting that I was lucky because I probably couldn't dance with any girl hotter than Melissa. The brunette pressed on while her friends watched me.
"So was she the hottest? Was this the first time you danced with pretty girls?" the brunette said. I wonder if she assumed that most of my parties were only full of ugly pigs, or perhaps in her eighteen or nineteen years of experience, she could not fathom what I have experienced.
"Melissa is a pretty girl but--" I began and paused, watching the jaws drop--"I wouldn't say she's the hottest."
No one said anything. They only stared like I had just run into a nunnery and started ravishing all the nuns.
"As for dancing with pretty girls, I've probably danced with hundreds if not thousands of pretty girls before I came here," I said, buttoning up my police shirt.
"How old are you?" one girl asked.
"I'm twenty-eight too," the girl replied.
"No, you're eighteen. Nineteen at the most," I said.
"Ugh. Like how could you tell?" she asked. "I could be twenty-eight. How would you know the difference?"
This girl was an idiot. She was definitely around eighteen or nineteen; she looked as though she put on about ten of the freshman fifteen. She was on the descent from her prime. Another ten years at this rate would produce the soccer-mom sixty.
"Your behavior. Girls in the twenties go wild with a male stripper--they're fun and they get into it. Y'all just act timid and sit around and drink. Teenagers don't party like women do."
I wasn't angry, but I was irritated. I was irritated at the immature mockery, the stupid questions, and most of all, I was irritated because I had a horrible time. I didn't care if I offended anyone at this point. However, no one said anything. I had just insulted their party and felt better for doing so.
I thanked the girl who paid me before I left. I told her that the next time she wanted a male stripper, she should ditch the boys, loosen the girls up more, and then emphasized the "no boys" part again. I told her that she would have a much better party that way. Like hell I was going to blame this disaster of a party on myself.
Then I gathered my jacket and left. I almost ran into several frat boys on the way out. They avoided me like the plague. I hope I don't ever have to deal with teenagers at work ever again.