Because I am not a good person and have no friends, instead of celebrating the holidays in a traditional way, I went out drinking. The Christmas Pub Crawl was $25 all-you-can-drink from 7-10pm. That wasn't good enough for Tucker Max, so I pre-partied at The Union from 5-7, where it is $5 all-you-can-drink. For you state school graduates, that works out to 5 hours of all-Tucker-can-drink. Tucker can drink a lot.
We started the pub crawl at Durkins, which was crawling with hot girls, but my friends are stupid and wanted to leave. There was a trolley that ferries the drunks from bar to bar, but it was moving slow, and by the time the trolley came around it is 9pm and I was nearly Tucker Max Drunk. This, combined with the menagerie of idiots on the trolley, set me off.
The first person I lit into was a woman in a cheap pleather coat with a fur collar. The fur collar was multiple colors, each more bright and obnoxious than the next. It began:
"Great Holy Jesus. What are you wearing? Did you get in a fight in a paint store? Is your favorite musical Joseph and the Technicolor Dream Coat. Do you realize you are in public?"
Her boyfriend comes over and says, "Let her have it. I tried to tell her not to wear that out."
I yelled at an old guy sitting at the front of the trolley so much that even my friends were embarrassed. Things like,
"The early bird special ended at 6."
"What are you grandpa, our chaperone?"
"There is no senior citizen discount on a pub crawl, pappy."
These did not go over well with the others on the trolley. EVERYONE except my friends got off at the next stop, and one girl told me that I was the reason they were getting off. I told her no harm done, I wouldn't have slept with her anyway. Her boyfriend told me to shut my mouth or he would "stick my dick in your ass." I forget exactly what I said to him, but I am pretty sure it involved me questioning the difference in his choice of partner and his preferred method of sex, and then pointing out to his girlfriend that perhaps she re-examine his preference for anal intercourse in light of his desire to fuck the butt of a man.
We got off at Duffy's, where there was a buffet. I was feeling myself lose control, so I decided to eat. At this moment in time, it seemed perfectly logical for me to stand directly over the tray of chicken wings, sucking the meat off each wing in under a second, then tossing the naked bones and half chewed sinews on the ground behind me. I needed to eat. Doesn't the world exist for my pleasure?
We eventually got back to Durkin's, and I began to come off of Tucker Max Drunk, settling down comfortably in Shit-Housed. For some reason, my friends and I got enmeshed in a conversation with three very marginal looking girls. I started bullshitting one of the girls (who incidentally was an archetypical Chicago Girl--cute face, fat ass), when I noticed a good-looking girl with a stunning, almost Anna Kournikova, body that kept circling my area staring at me. Finally she approached and said,
Girl "What is your name?"
Excellent. I turned away from the marginal girl I was bullshitting, and directly to her.
Tucker "I'm whoever it is you're looking for."
Girl "You must be Tucker Max."
Tucker "Yes I am. And you are?"
Girl "You don't know me. I saw where you were going to be on your website, so I came here. I wasn't sure if it was you at first. You are much better looking in person."
Tucker "Yeah, I am aren't I?"
Goddamn, I love my website. Her two best quotes from that night:
When I introduced her to my friends, she told them, "Tucker doesn't know me. I'm stalking him."
When I asked her if I was what she thought I'd be like, she said, "Your game is a lot more subtle than I expected. I imagined I'd find you laying drunk on the floor, yelling at people."
The rest of the night went very well. I doubt I need to give you details. I mean, come on, the fucking girl came out looking for me--is the ending that hard to predict?
Anyway, I wake up the next morning to find this email in my Inbox:
Subject: Durkins
Date: Sat, 21 Dec 2002 11:20:13 -0600
From: "Marginal Chicago Girl"
To: tuckermax@tuckermax.com
Tucker Max....
Now that I've read your website, I can't say that I can't believe you ran off with that cheesy, skanky girl who recognized you at Durkins, when you had, halfway on the hook, a highly-educated, classy and attractive woman who knew little to nothing about your uh, fame. But I *can* say that you're an idiot! Hope you had fun....
Marginal Chicago Girl
Marginal Chicago Girl is the girl I was talking to when the hot girl came up and asked if I was Tucker Max. Now, I get shit like this all the time, I didn't really feel the need to respond to it. She has a Chicago Girl ass, is marginally attractive, not that smart or fun, and had already been dissed by me in public. I didn't feel the need to completely eviscerate her sense of self. Besides, if she can't take a joke, fuck her.
But, seeing the opportunity for a cat fight, I forwarded the email to the girl who recognized me, "Gertrude". She was less forgiving than me. This is what she wrote:
Subject: Durkins revisited
Date: Sun, 22 Dec 2002 10:10:53 -0600
From: Gertrude
To: Marginal Chicago Girl
Marginal Chicago Girl,
I can appreciate the cathartic value gained from calling Tucker an idiot. After hearing the story, I can't say that your assertion about Tucker's behavior was unwarranted. However, I do take issue with the fact that you would denigrate another woman to make your point. However "cheesy" or "skanky" I may be, I have the class to defer from making derogatory comments about other women, especially when the woman in question is only peripherally involved in the situation. I think your anger was misplaced. I hope that in the future, you will preserve your self-esteem, not at the expense of other women, but by reassuring yourself of your attractiveness and intelligence.
Best of luck,
Gertrude
This is my life. Sometimes I don't even believe it.
This isn't the end of the story. I ended seeing Gertrude for a few weeks, until she flipped out over me. I ignored her for a few days, when she came to my message board and we had this exchange:
"I told the story to a couple of people who now read your website and it was not too difficult to identify me in the story. While your story sticks pretty close to the facts, some things were a little mesleading [sic] and I think I come off like the cheesy, skanky, girl that Marginal Chicago Girl accused me of being. Further, I have a friend who read the account on your site and has been cold to me ever since. I think he is disappointed in the lack of self-respect that I seemed to display, according to your story.
As the more sober of the two of us, I would like to my account of the Christmas Bar Crawl night. First I remember our initial conversation much differently than you remember the conversation. I approached and said, "Are you Tucker Max?".
You, "Yeah".
Me, "I'm Gertrude. I owe you a beer (per a favor you had done for me, from which, incidentally, I have not received any follow-up)."
I asked what you wanted and you insisted on following me to the bar. I told you I would be right back, but you again insisted on following me to the bar. When my friend decided she would rather order from the front bar, I told you I would be right back, but you again insisted on following me. I am not saying that I minded, but that is what happened. Point being, it is not like I broke into your group and then stalked you around the bar, separating you from your previous conversations.
Then, you kept insisting on paying for my drink and my friend's drink. But I refused, because, while I had stalked you, I started out the night with no more than the intention of meeting you. The reason we stalked you is because you were funny and it gave us something fun to do. I often stalk people for various reasons but my efforts rarely come to fruition, making it all the more funny that we found you. It also helped that you were kind of cute. However, my intention was only to be friends with you, otherwise I probably would have let you buy the first drinks.
Further evidence for my Stalking Just To Be Friends Claim:
I tried to talk to your friends and other people at the bar to assuage the intensity with which you had been talking to me, but you kept insisting that I talk only to you, eve physically pulling me away from other conversations.
Second, at one point, I was looking in my purse for money and you pulled out your credit card insisting that my friend and I use it for whatever we needed, so I would not leave our conversation. Again, I refused the credit card because I did not want to give you the impression that I was interested in you romantically at that point.
THE MOST MISLEADING PART:
Now, in you account you write, "The rest of the night went very well. I doubt I need to give you the details. I mean, come on, the fucking girl came out looking for me, is the ending hard to predict." Although your attempt at discretion was oh-so valliant [sic] (and I really appreciate the adjective that you used to describe me), please let me supply "the details".
You, "Let's go back to my place and I'll make something to eat."
Me, "I'm sure that's why you want us to go back to your place."
Point being, I was not some love-struck fan who guilelessly followed you home. My friend wanted to go home and I was having fun so I went home with you.
Now let me get to "the details". We went to your place, you cooked chicken with a ton of garlic, gave me shorts and a t-shirt to sleep in, and maybe I kissed you. But really I don't think much more happened before we went to sleep. I woke up in the middle of the night to find you tring [sic] to grope my breast and saying "You're so hot". I pushed your hand away (this happened a few times). At this point, I either could have assumed that your groping was a really cheap attempt to get some action, or that you were talking in your sleeep [sic] in a drunken stupor. I decided to give you the benefit of the doubt becasue [sic] the night before you said you sometimes talk in your sleep (nice set-up, by the way). Anyway, the next morning we talked, and you won some points with the camel by your bed and your knowledge of David Buss's research, so I think we fooled around a little. But there was no oral sex, rubbing of genitals, orgasms, or intercourse. And then we went for breakfast. Those are all of "the details" of the night, as I remember them. Feel free to correct me if I am wrong."
Here was my response:
"Oh this is awesome. Exactly what I originally intended the message board to be for.
The best part about this post: This girl is in a PhD program at the moment, and is TAKING HER TWO PART PHD EXAM THIS WEEK! Yet, she took time out of her study schedule, right before the exam that will determine whether or not she stays in her program, to write that. Awesome.
I don't really have a lot to add to the story, as I had been to an open bar from 5-10 before meeting her, and was very drunk. What she says may be a correct rendition of the night. Who knows?
But there are a few things I must point out, being that the gauntlet has now been thrown down.
1. I'm guessing people find it easy to identify her in the story BECAUSE SHE TOLD THEM ABOUT IT.
2. I probably did insist on following her to the bar, as I was talking to a fatty when she came up. She has a great body, so that's an easy decision, and I'm not subtle when I'm drunk.
3. The paying for drinks thing is probably true, as I usually become very generous, and very stupid, when I get drunk.
4. I think I may have said something about coming back to my place to cook, because I was fucking hungry. Notice that I actually did cook when I got home, thus it wasn't a line. But that is not why she got in the cab with me. She got in because I got in and told her to come with me, and she wanted too. That simple.
5. We did not in fact sleep together that night, nor did I say we did. But we fucked soon thereafter. I think it was during a booty call on Saturday or Sunday night.
I love this stuff."
Her response:
"I guess I really am an idiot. Even after reading your website, I bought all of your bullshit about it being merely a caricature. I even fell for your protestations that you weren't that big of a jerk, when I called you out on less vile actions.
Congratulations on pulling the wool over my eyes!"
And the final word:
No one pulled any wool over her eyes. I told her repeatedly that I was a bad person.
And I still don't know what her problem is. I'm not mad at her. I'm not even really trying to blow her off, but when, after only about a week or so of hooking up, she calls me every single day the next week, each time upset about this thing or that thing that she read on my site, ESPECIALLY WHEN SHE CAME OUT TO MEET ME BECAUSE OF THE SITE, it gets a little tiresome.
Where do I find these girls?
Oh wait...never mind.
Posted by at 12:01 AM