We Try Harder to Abide

I ran into a friend at a back table who had all of her teeth knocked out in a bike accident. She has no insurance and is desperately trying to raise $7,500 to fix them. I have dreams that my teeth have fallen out. I can't imagine how she feels. Still, she gamely keeps going out and living her life. The dudette, it seems, abides.

All in all, it was a very Seinfeld evening, with nothing much happening, save the occasional trip to the bar to wait for the bartender to notice me. My two male friends and I passed the time by talking about our first sexual encounters. "Mine was awful," said one, and went on to say that he didn't fit inside of his date. We just sort of stared at him. "What a nightmare," I deadpanned.

The second said his was awful, too. She got pregnant, and at the age of 15 they had to raise $300 for an abortion. I agreed that his was worse.

But then I brought up mine, which was pretty much date rape, with the guy bashing the sides of my head in and screaming in my face because I told him he was hurting me. In all, I had the number-one bad first-time experience of all of us. It was the Hertz Rent a Car of traumatic deflowering. I assured them that I am fine now, and that the guy who did it has been punished by living out the rest of his life as a total douchebag loser; a total failed-artist type. That dude is definitely not abiding.

The evening ended early and we walked out to the strains of Gish by Smashing Pumpkins. You usually never hear that record, just the band's later stuff. I liked Delirium for that. And you know what? The bartender even waved a modest goodbye to us and seemed to smile. He was indeed trying harder, which, in my book, elevates him to a number two.