Last night I made plans to watch the fights with a friend. Sort of plans, over e-mail. Friend said, “I’ll be back ca. 9:30, just drop by the house around then.” I took the train out to his suburban home, found his house deserted ca. 9:30. That’s fine, sat on his lovely porch and read my book for 30, 40, 50 minutes. Around 10:30, his car pulls into the driveway, passes the porch toward the back parking area, and (apparently) they don’t see me. I arise from the front porch, begin sauntering back to the back – and I hear him and his wife emerging from the car, voices raised, with her excoriating him for what appears to be a long-running complaint.
And I – I creep back down the driveway, duck across the sidewalk, turn the corner to his local tavern, have two drinks, and order a very expensive cab home. I’m quite certain he doesn’t even know I made the 40 mile round trip.
I feel like I made the right call – if there’s family strife, the arrival of a drinking buddy who’s going to keep hubby up another two hours watching sports and downing brandy hardly seems conducive to marital bliss enhancement. Still, I felt a bit James Bond-y, or rather something fairly far short of that.
Last year, I stopped by my friend’s house on my way to work to return a book. I called him about 10 minutes beforehand to make sure he was there, and he told me to just come in. When I arrived, I noted his girlfriend’s car was there. This was normal, indeed she appeared to spend very little time at her own home. I walked in, as is normal at this kid’s house, and made my way downstairs, where I could see friend’s bedroom door was open. Generally, this means that friend is messing around with his audio software and girlfriend is sitting on his bed watching him. Generally, I can sneak in and sit down before they notice me. This time, as I was about to come in sight of his bed, I hear a moan of pleasure.
Keep in mind that this was less than fifteen minutes after I called and said I was coming, and they know perfectly well people just walk in, often without calling first.
I very quietly set the book down next to a tremendous cat, then very quickly tiptoed to the stairs, where I broke into a run.
I’ll contribute the story of a high-school friend of mine, who had been dating a girl for about three months when Christmas rolled around. He went Christmas shopping with her, and then they agreed she’d follow him to a restaurant to have something to eat. But he had already decided that he was going to break up with her, so he deliberately lost her in traffic, then went home and effected the break-up by the simple expedient of never again returning any of her phone calls.
As a 10yo kid I was at a friends house with 4-5 others and we were up to no good. We were torching model kits on the barbecue. The little kid from across the street wanted to hang out but we chased him off. After a while, I was getting bored. So I borrowed my friends bike and began riding it up and down the block. When I got tired of that I rode back to his house. As I was about to round the corner to his back yard, I heard him getting bitched at by the mom of the little kid, who’d gotten his vengeance by squealing. I hit aft thrusters and disappeared.
I was supposed to pick up a friend to give her a ride back to college after a long weekend. I’d been to her house maybe once before. “Do you remember how to get to my house?” she asks. I have this weird issue about not listening to directions, so, knowing I wouldn’t listen anyway, I said that I did.
I drive up there, and find the street, but I can’t remember which house is hers. Suddenly, they all look alike, so I pick one. A guy who looks just like her dad opens the door, and says hello. By his tone of voice and the way he is standing, I take that as an invitation to come on in.
I walk into the living room, and don’t recognize anyone. There’s a different breed dog on the floor. Dad asks me what I’m doing and I ask him where my friend is. He tells me no one by that name lives there, and I finally put the pieces together. Do I apologize profusely? Explain my mistake? No, I just rolled my eyes and said “whatever,” trying to make it look like some joke that they just weren’t getting, and walked out. I called my friend from my car and told her I couldn’t remember what street she lived on.
Either the height of suave, or height of evil. Very much on the fence.
Remember reading some guy’s account of a girl he was dating, whom he sensed was giving him a hard time. Thinking things might well end badly, he bought a cheap Members’ Only jacket (well after this was socially acceptable) and wore it on their next date. Some dude called her when they were at dinner, had already ordered a nice repast, and she took the call (?) and talked to him at the table for some minutes (!!). Leaving the jacket draped over the chair, Our Hero went “to the restroom while [you’re] talking” and, in reality, cruised on out, sticking her with the bill, well over the value of the crappy jacket he left behind.
I have never confessed this before, because it’s just too damn embarrassing.
I had weird periods as a teen, so I went on BC to fix them up. As with all meds, the first one you try might not work. Well, when I went on the placebo week, all hell broke loose. I was over at a friend’s house before I realized the extent to which the gates of my womanhood were flowing forth. There were a few of us sitting on her bed playing video games and when we were done and going our separate ways for the day, I looked down to see a huge bloodstain on her bed.
I just left the room without saying anything and I don’t think anyone noticed. It could have been from any of us. Five years later and I still haven’t worked up the nerve to tell my friend that I was the one who did it.
This isn’t my story, but from a good friend at the time:
My friend decided to “surprise” her boyfriend, another friend of mine. One evening, before he got home, she carefully stripped along the path to his house, leaving the clothes along the path. First shoes, then skirt, then shirt, then underclothes, with the panties hanging on the doorknob.
He comes home, discovers the treasure trail, and reacts as any 20-year male would. They are soon involved in intimate experiences.
Unfortunately, the unexpected sight had made him forget that on his way home, he had called an acquaintance who was going to meet him with some fine green herbs for sale. As far as we could tell, said acquaintance arrived on the scene, saw the clothes, maybe heard some sound effects, and beat a gentlemanly retreat.
When they went out to collect her clothes a few hours later, my friend found a bag of fine green herbs tucked considerately inside her left shoe.
All these stories of successful escapes. I think we need one that’s not as successful.
I was probably younger than ten when some friends of the family came to stay with us. They arrived in an RV. When they got in and a little settled, they gave us a tour of the RV. This is the bed, this is the kitchen, this is the bathroom, this is the bathroom sink.
I was flabbergasted. It was like a house – on wheels! That was about the coolest thing I could think of, except maybe giant robots that could kill my enemies, and even those didn’t have working bathroom sinks. No, this was the coolest thing that actually existed.
A little while later my dad and the owner of the RV were standing next to it, talking about the general awesomeness of it. Everyone else had gone inside our house. Mom told me to go wash my hands because we were about to have dinner. I contemplated whether I should use the downstairs or upstairs bathroom for that.
Or…
I could use the one in the RV. Since the door wasn’t near where my dad was standing, I figured I could sneak on, wash up using the Coolest Sink in the Universe, and sneak off. The perfect crime!
The first part of my plan went off without a hitch. I had snuck aboard. Now for the second part – turn on the water. Just as I did, the RV’s engine started up. Woah! What the heck?!? Dad and the owner of the RV both exclaimed “What the hell? It just started up on its own!” I quickly turned the faucet off, and the engine turned off a second later. Dad and the owner exclaimed “And now it turned itself off! What’s going on?”
There was no smooth escape for me. They were coming towards the side door and I had no escape. I had to face the music. So I exited the RV and sheepishly said “I… I guess I shoulda asked permission first.” “I guess you should have”, my dad said. He looked really mad.
I never really thought about it until now, but were bathroom faucets that acted like an ignition a standard feature on RVs at the time? Because that seems like a really dumb feature.