Sex on the Beach
Nothing can by more grating than on Thursday nights when college co-eds sick of beer start ordering sex on the beach. It is always, always, always done with a high-pitched, slurred, giggle. After the order is placed, the coed then looks around to see which, if any boys in the vicinity heard.
While the more sexually aggressive or sexually extroverted girls have no problem using a screwdriver to lower their standards, the girls that order sex on the beach are not quite as adventurous. Sure, they want to get laid, but they don’t want to seem either way too drunk to have sex or want the guy to feel like he is the aggressor. By ordering a sex on the beach, they hope that this signals to others that they are fun, flirty, and like sex without being way too easy, just somewhat easy.
Ironically enough, sex on the beach is made with vodka and orange juice too. The difference is that sex on the beach also includes peach schnapps and a splash of cranberry.
I have had sex on the beach (the drink) a grand total of two times. Jazz, who has a complex against this drink too, does not know I have ever drank one in its entirety. Both times was with my aunt. My aunt is ten years older than me. When I was a ten that was a big age gap. When I turned twenty-three and started enjoying the flavors of alcohol and stopped drinking to get drunk, that age gap wasn’t as big as it seemed. One of the more vivd, times I drank with her, I wanted to get good and plastered, deserved to get good and plastered. And things be as they were, my aunt was the one the family member who volunteered to take care of me. That night, I started out with whiskey and diet coke, did two shots of sex on the beach (I refused to drink it as a cocktail), and finished the night off with liquid cocaine. There was way more in between, but that's neither here nor there. I also begged for absinthe, but at the time, absinthe was still illegal in the U.S. and no one in the family had it on hand.
Yes, I was majorly hungover. Crazily enough, I was glad. I was glad because I’d rather feel the physical pain the alcohol had ravaged on my body then deal with the emotional pain. True, I’d have to deal with it at some point, but at the current point, I didn’t want to deal; I just wanted to drink. That was two years ago. Since that day two years ago, my life completely turned upside down. My life had changed its course. I haven’t had time to date since that day, haven’t had sex since before that day. That had become known as The Unmentionable.
Levi was something of a normal fixture in the bar for the past two weeks. During those two weeks, Jazz and I were too busy to get together. Sure, we talked on the phone and check in on each other during the past two weeks, but our works schedules made it hard to get together. I almost always worked on Friday and Saturday night, not to mention I also worked on Sunday. Saturday and Sunday were Jazz’s days off. If she wasn’t busy preparing for work, she’d stop in and visit me on Sunday. And that is how we finally saw each other again.
Two weeks after first meeting Levi at the dessert bar, Jazz was waiting out front of the bar for me to arrive to work.
“How’s the weekend going?” she asked.
I shrugged my shoulders. “Eh. Busy as usual.”
“Anybody interesting?” she asked and quirked an eyebrow.
“The usual. Regulars, college kids looking to chill, a few businessmen and women trying to show they’re down with the working collar regulars…”
She laughed. “Why not invite some congressman in here then and we can have some campaign parties.”
I gave Jazz a dirty look. She knew exactly what I thought about politics. I happily claim no political party and go out of my way to vote for the name on the ballot that no one recognizes. Some people hate me for this. My answer is why should I vote? No matter who is in office, that person’s loyalty is to getting reelected. Getting reelected may mean that they need to honor their pledge as a public servant and uphold their constituents’ interest…or it may mean that cave to pubic interest groups and more powerful public servants. True, it’s better than some crazy tyrant renouncing the holocaust, but it is flawed. And by voting, but not voting for these people, I don’t feel I have contributed to the mess of society.
“Eddie should be here soon,” I said ignoring her little jab. I didn’t feel up to a political debate at the moment. “Chicken fingers and fries?”
“Did you get the good ones back in stock?” she asked.
“Yep, and I made sure the distributor knew how unhappy some of my patrons were that they screwed the order up, that they would rather have lightly breaded and not deep battered.”
“I love you,” she gushed.
Falling into our Sunday routine, I began to stock beer in the fridge and take note of the liquor bottles. Jazz fell into her own Sunday routine and walked around the bar to grab the remote and turn on the TV.
“Do the Colts play at noon or three?” she asked me.
“Noon, I think,” I said.
“It is noon,” Eddie said walking into the bar. “Nice to see Stalker Number Two back,” he said giving her a small wave.
“She’ll like some chicken fingers,” I said to him.
“Yeah, get to work instead of saying mean things about patrons. Stalker! Hah! I am Rory’s best friend not to mention the fact that I do the taxes for this place! I have every right to be here! Wait…what? Stalker Number Two?”
Eddie shook his head as he tied his apron strings. “Yeah, some guy has been coming in for the past couple of weeks and pestering Rory.”
“Thanks, Eddie,” I said.
Jazz gave me a dirty look. “Tell me more about this guy, Eddie,” Jazz said and fluttered her lashes at him.
Eddie looked at me, clearly distressed. “Go fix the chicken fingers,” I said to him.
“You hadn’t mentioned 501 to her?” he asked me.
I shook my head. “No Eddie, don’t worry about it.”
“Sorry, girl,” he said and then ducked into the kitchen.
Jazz hadn’t stopped giving me her dirty look. “501?”
“It’s his nickname.”
Her frown deepened. “So you’re nicknaming guys with Eddie and discussing them with him?”
I couldn’t tell from her tone if she was made at me for keeping 501 (Levi) a secret or jealous because Eddie knew about him. My money was betting on jealous being the foremost emotion at the moment. Well, she had nothing to be jealous about. Eddie only knew about Levi because Levi was always here. As far as my keeping it a secret went, I still wasn’t committed to anything with Levi and wasn’t sure I did want to commit to anything with Levi.
“He’s been coming in here for the past two weeks, Jazz. It would be kind of suspect if Eddie hasn’t noticed him. And as far as mentioning him to you…well…I’m not even sure I like the guy.”
“Ok, well, who is it? I want some details!”
I sighed. “Fine. Well, remember the last time we went out.”
“Oh my god! 501’s! The jeans! Levi! He’s stalking you!”
“Uh, don’t be so happy about it, but yes. I can’t seem to shake him.”
Jazz resumed her dirty look. “Why would you want to, Rory? He’s cute, smart, going to be seriously accomplished and best of all, he’s not from here!”
I sighed.
“Oh, Rora! What is the matter?”
“Why me, Jazz? Could I not have been sending him stronger ‘no’ microwaves that night?”
“Maybe he has a thing for a nice ass. I’ve always said-”
“Seriously, Jazz. From the get-go his appearance annoyed me. And I made sure he knew I didn’t want him around. But what does he do? He comes to my bar. He watches Casablanca and One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest for conversation starters. Why put all this effort into someone that you know nothing about!”
“Rory, you make it sound like he’s slaying dragons or something. I mean, well okay, when you get down to it I’d prefer slaying dragons to watching Casablanca, but Rory, those are movies! They cost him two bucks to rent and about five hours of his life. And considering how many hours there are during the 78 years of the average life expectancy in the U.S., that is a minimal, minimal, minimal sum. I mean, he probably spends more than five hours in the bathroom a year. And no, I’m not talking about bathing.”
I shook my head. “Still.”
“Don’t look a gift-horse in the mouth.”
“What if the gift contains anthrax?”
Jazz rolled her eyes. “Anyway, the thing I’m most disgusted about is the nickname.”
“Why? I’m sure he doesn’t wear Levi’s. Definitely the cheapest he’d buy would be Lucky or Express. Still, the nickname is a distinct signifier.”
“I thought we learned our lessons with nicknames?”
I shook my head. “No, you learned your lesson with nicknames after calling your male nurse “Pothead Focker.”
Yes, Jazz’s ex, Allen Brodbent was a male nurse. No, I do not think there is anything wrong with a man being a nurse.
Nurses make bank nowadays. However, there are several male nurse jokes courtesy of Meet the Parents. The main character Gaylord, nee Greg, Focker is a male nurse. He is commonly referred to as “Greg RN” and there is a scene with De Niro interrogating Greg, asking him if he is a “pothead,” hence Jazz drunk dialing Allen and asking him “Are you a pothead, Focker? She then badgered him until he admitted he had smoked pot in high school. After his admission, Jazz happily called Allen a “Pothead Focker” over and over for about a full two minutes until he hung up on her. I was just amazed he had listened for that long.
Honestly though, he had to know she was mocking him behind his back – not that she did it maliciously – because she called him “Allen RN” to his face. She even introduced him to people as “Allen RN.” On our Sunday afternoons at the bar, she’d meet and tell me things went well with the “Little Focker.” It wasn’t said maliciously, I’d know if she was being malicious and Allen RN would’ve known she was being malicious. Jazz didn’t hide her true feelings. No, Jazz said it because “fuck” was probably her favorite word and when she called her nurse boyfriend “Focker” it made her giggle.
Before Pothead Focker, there was Rainbow Brite (The Star Stealer), Lt. Dan, and The Gecko to name a few.
Rainbow Brite (The Star Stealer) was named after one of our favorite 80’s cartoons that came to the big screen in Rainbow Brite and the Star Stealer. Rainbow, Heath Cliffton, earned his name when he met Jazz. I had just got off work and Jazz had met me here for a few drinks. We were sitting around a four-person table drinking beer and propping our feet on the extra chairs.
Heath came by and asked Jazz for her chair. Before she had a chance to say “No,” or “Go to hell,” or “Seriously, this is a nearly-empty bar,” he grabbed the chair from under her feet and hauled it over to another nearby table. Some friends with Heath started laughing at him. Jazz started complaining loudly at how her ankles hurt from crashing into the ground because some douche bag grabbed her chair when she could count at least ten empty chairs in the immediate vicinity.
Heath heard her complain. Hell, everyone in the bar heard her complain despite my riotous laughter through her entire tirade. He apologized, returned Jazz’s exact chair and then grabbed one of the ten empty chairs Jazz must’ve been talking about. Five minutes later, clearly drunk, Heath and his new chair were at our table and he was back apologizing. Apparently he fell for sarcastic and sassy because he asked Jazz for her number when they were leaving.
I know that calling him Rainbow Brite is a bit of a jump, but being quite drunk ourselves that night, we started referring to him as the Chair Stealer. Somehow, in our alcohol-addled minds, we put together Rainbow Brite and the Star Stealer and Heath’s nickname was born.
I know for a fact Heath never found out he was nicknamed after a blonde-hair, blue-eyed little girl who rode a magical horse into the sky via a rainbow to bring spring to the planet. Jazz broke up with Heath because after six months he started playing summer softball and Jazz thought he wasn’t paying her enough attention. Had he known he was nicknamed Rainbow Brite, I’m sure he would’ve been the one doing the breaking up.
Radio was by far one of our favorite nicknames for one of Jazz’s men. Radio was Patrick Thompson. Patrick went to high school with us and after college, we ran into him. Patrick was now a cop and took his job very seriously. How seriously? Well, that first night we met, Jazz asked him if she could call him and have him take care of a speeding ticket if she got pulled over. Patrick said he could never interfere with another cop’s business then excused himself to get another round.
Jazz looked at me and said, “How about you get a liter of cola and take it easy on the wait staff, Radio.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. Why would Jazz date a guy that was so stuffy? Well, the first reason was because he was buying beer for both of us. She agreed to a date because she found out he had tickets for Jimmy Buffett in a couple of months. She continued to date him after Jimmy Buffett because while he was a bit of a self-righteous prick, he was something quite amazing between the sheets.
I can assure you that Patrick didn’t find out about his nickname. From talking to Jazz, I knew that Patrick had seen the movie Super Troopers and did not find it funny. Ironically enough, Patrick was nicknamed after Officer Rod Farva, called Radio, who was the most ridiculous and inept of the characters.
The Gecko was another drunken, roundabout nickname. Jazz’s dad wanted her to date a respectable man. He had a friend who wanted his son to find a respectable girl and settle down. Sounds like a nice story, right? Well, the respectable man was really a greedy, obnoxious jerk, and the respectable girl was not Jazz.
The Gecko, Michael Axel Paulson III, worked with his father at Smith Barney. Michael Axel Paulson III was nice looking, smart, and knew he was a catch. In Jazz and my humble opinion, knowing you’re a catch makes you way less of a catch, especially if you think you can boss your girlfriend around.
A couple of weeks after going out with Michael twice, Jazz and came to the bar to dissect. She had learned that Michael was all about money, all about the best money could buy, and might go so far as kill someone if he knew he’d get rich and get his clients rich from it. When I asked her if she meant hypothetically, she raised that eyebrow at me. She looked at me and said, “Really, does this man think he is Gordon Gekko. Some corporate bastard looking to bankrupt companies for a cheap buck? Because really, Rory, he would, I know he would.” She laughed. “Respectable. Ha, Dad! If you only knew.” From Gordon Gekko, it was an easy stretch to call him The Gecko, the little green guy on the Geico commercials.
Had Michael known he was The Gecko, he would’ve assumed, somewhat rightly, it was from the movie Wall Street. I’m sure he would be quite proud at our nickname for him.
As far as that relationship went, they lasted until Michael proposed after eight months. It’s a wonder they lasted that long. Jazz and The Gecko seemed to be always fighting. He would want her to do something simple like pick up his dry-cleaning and she would say she wouldn’t have time. He then wouldn’t understand why she didn’t have the time because she was a woman who worked for her dad, so surely she could find time.
The entire relationship was toxic. Jazz knew it too. Jazz stayed in the relationship for two reasons. The first reason is because the longer she stayed with him and the more he raged and became a jackass, the more her father urged her to break up with him, the more guilty he felt for pushing her into the relationship. Jazz always said that a guilty parent was an easy mark. She used his guilt to get more responsibilities in the company and to get more training. When it came to her career, Jazz could be just as ruthless.
The second reason she stayed in the relationship was because she had masochistic tendencies. It gave her some twisted thrill to be with a guy who would do whatever it took to piss her off. As if that wasn’t thrill enough, she enjoyed it even more when she got to yell at him and let him know that he was privileged just to date her.
When she said no to the engagement, I don’t know who was happier. And for the life of me, I still can’t understand why he stayed with her, let alone proposed. The only possible explanation I’ve come up with is that maybe he knew the proposal would drive them apart instead of solidifying the so-called sacred bond between the two of them.
I didn’t care how much Jazz might protest, the nicknames would never go. And deep down, I knew that Jazz didn’t want to get rid of the nicknames either. Hell, if we couldn’t come up with a quality nickname, we often didn’t go on date number two or three. Lack of nickname was just as significant to us. If we couldn’t find a nickname for them, then they were too boring. Despite how totally ridiculous some of the nicknames might be, the nicknames set them apart from all of the other fish in the sea.
“Rory, I’m not saying he’s going to end up being Mr. Right. But honey, we both know how long it has been since you’ve been with a guy. You work way too much to get out and meet someone let alone have it survive long enough for something to happen. But 501,” she said and gave me a smile, “he’s at least trying to show you he can cope. Sure, we don’t know why, but this is what you need right now.”
“And if he’s wrong?”
“Sleeping Beauty got lucky and found love with the first one. But that isn’t real. You have to date some toads to appreciate a prince.” I shook my head digesting her words. “And can he really be as bad as The Gecko?”
“I guess that is true,” I said.
Jazz smiled at me. “Of course it’s true! And if he did turn out to be as bad as the Gecko, you’d get out of the situation immedaitely.”
“I don’t like to argue as much as you.”
She laughed. “Rory, that is so not true. You just argue for things that you think are more worthwhile. And when you do argue, you argue louder and harder than I ever would.”
“Ok, guilty.”
“So let me hear more about Levi,” she said.
“Order up,” Eddie said sitting Jazz’s food on the ledge.
I gave Jazz her chicken fingers and then began to rehash all that happened with Levi, all that I hadn’t yet told her and more.
When I finished, she was no longer jealous. Like a cat full from a bowl of cream, Jazz sat back in the chair satisfied. The chicken fingers filled her belly and her mind full of enough Aurora gossip to make a tabloid journalist happy.
“Listen, Rory,” Jazz said once we had discussed and dissected. “If he isn’t the right man, if he turns out to be a master predator, a complete douche bag, a tool so big we have to call him Home Depot, you will still have me here with you. Not only that, but you have your aunt as well. We may be few in numbers, but we are mighty in heart,” she said and I laughed.
Suddenly she turned serious. “Its just time, Aurora. You’ve been hiding behind work since the Unmentionable. Not that I blame you in the least, lord knows I’m not sure how I could cope with that despite how much I may bitch, but we both know that if things were different, they would want you with someone, being happy, pursuing your dreams.”
“I know, Jazz. I know.”
“I don’t know many people who are stronger than you or any more capable than you are. Levi may not be the right person for your forever, Rory. But you have a person that is trying his hardest to get your attention. Give it to him. That is all I’m saying.”
“Give it to him or have sex?” I asked trying to lighten the mood.
“Sex of course!” Eddie shouted from the kitchen, and the two of us immediately started to laugh.
“Sex should come from it only if you want it to, Rory. I know you don’t do that with anyone, and I wouldn’t push you to do it with some random person. Although, if you wait much longer I may hire a gigolo for you. I just want you to remember what it is like to feel a bond of attachment begin to grow again.”
And with those few simple words, I ignored all of the red flags and decided to give Levi a chance.
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