Tales From The Wrestler’s Bedroom

Posted on June 7, 2013

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Stop yelling at me!

This story is from Jamal, a 25-year-old teacher in NYC, as told to Raz:

One night, I got to talking with a girl, Katie, at a bar. One drunken thing led to another and we ended up making out a little. Eventually though, her even-more-wasted-than-us friend pulled her away and they started talking to two other guys. Later, Katie came back to me, said the other two guys had asked them to go back to their apartment with them, but she’d told them that she would only go if I could go with them. Without even considering how weird that was, I agreed and went along.

And these dudes had one of the most gorgeous NYC apartments I’d ever seen. It was enormous. It didn’t take long for the guys to admit that it wasn’t exactly theirs…They were house sitting (and dog sitting) for Mickey Rourke. After a little exploration, we found that Micky Rourke has a pretty elaborate “sex den” in the back. One guy took the drunk friend to that room almost immediately.

Me, Katie and this other random guy sat down on the couch. Awkward. I could tell he was trying to edge me out, and I couldn’t really blame him for it. But Katie was just not into him and kept leaning closer to me. When he realized that getting her alone was a lost cause, he decided to go another route: all inclusive. He told me I looked like Edward from Twilight and leaned in closer. Yeah…this wasn’t gonna work for me. I asked him if there was a place where I could take Katie. He reluctantly showed us to a spare bedroom.

That’s when I realized I didn’t have a condom. I knew if I left the apartment, these guys would never let me back in. So I reluctantly had to ask my newly rejected friend if he had a spare. Let’s just say he didn’t look happy as he handed it to me.

I passed out immediately post-sex, and when I woke the next morning, Katie was standing over me, yelling hysterically. I couldn’t make out anything she was saying, and I really wanted it to stop. Finally she leaned in real close and screamed clearly, “You stole my bra!”

I hadn’t stolen her bra, which I calmly explained to her. My first thought? One of our hosts came in and took it. When I asked them (extremely uncomfortable morning-after conversation, by the way), the guys blamed the dog (because dogs can open doors). Eventually, one of the guys “found” her bra in another room. Katie went home in a huff. I went to get a bagel.

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Posted in: His Stories