I got invited to a party by a girl who met me through my website. She had been emailing me for about three weeks before the party, had sent two pictures, and seemed pretty cool. But there were several red flags:
1. She claimed she was a 4th year Northwestern Med student. I have a friend in her 3rd year there who had never heard of her.
2. She refused to meet me, give me a number, or email me from her med school account before the party.
3. She continuously talked about how much she wanted to fuck me.
4. She made lots of quantum physics jokes.
5. The party was on the south side of Chicago, about a 45 minute drive from Northwestern, yet it was supposed to be her med school friend's party.
Now, what would you think? Obviously, and I thought the same thing, but I played along, because how the hell else am I going to get material if I don't get drunk and put myself in these absurd situations? People want to know how I get into the predicaments I write about--well, going to random parties thrown by complete strangers you met on the internet is one way to do it.
My friend "Bret" and I arrive at the party at around 10:30. It was almost immediately apparent that my assumption was correct, and I had been duped. There was a party going on, but it sucked. It was a University of Chicago grad school party. If you know anything about the University of Chicago, this should be all the description you need. The depressing thing about the party was that the people who threw it had bought three kegs, 15 bags of chips, three or four cases of non-alcoholic drinks, and had a DJ, all in anticipation of lots of people, yet there were only about 40 people there, max. It was awkward and sad. Bret and I camped out by the keg and started drinking.
Being a University of Chicago grad school party, the average level of attractiveness was hovering somewhere around "Tele-tubby." The one major exception was this beautiful Asian girl. She was standing next to a guy who could only have been a bigger dork if he had thick black glasses with tape in the middle. I walked right up to her as if he didn't exist, cracked a few jokes, and he disappeared. Well, he pretended to go get a beer, and then walked about ten feet away and nervously stared at us.
She was a statistics grad student, had been in America for only 2 years, and spoke marginal English. I was bored, so the conversation became immediately absurd. The highlights:
Tucker "So, you're from China?"
Girl "Yes."
Tucker "Do you know Yao Ming?"
Girl "Who?"
Tucker "Yao Ming. He's 7'6". You can't miss him."
Girl "I don't know this person. China is very big."
Tucker "Yeah, but he's twice as tall as anyone else in the country. You can probably see him from miles away. He's famous. Do you have famous people in China?"
Tucker "So, what's your name?"
Girl "My name is Angel."
Tucker "Right, and my name is Deng Shao Ping. What's 'Angel?' Your stripper name? Come on, what's your real name?"
Tucker "So do you like America?"
Girl "Yes, I like it."
Tucker "Alright, let's cut the bullshit--Did you come over here to steal our secrets."
Girl "I don't know; do you have any secrets?"
Tucker "Not my secrets you ninny--our nuclear secrets."
Girl "What? I don't understand."
Tucker "Yeah, whatever. That's exactly what Wen Ho Lee said."
Tucker "Where the hell can I get some good Chinese food in Chicago?"
Girl "Oh, I don't know, I am from China."
Tucker "Yeah, I know that, but don't you eat out?"
Girl "Eat out?"
Tucker "Go to a restaurant. Or do you cook for yourself?"
Girl "Oh no, I don't like to cook. Maybe only vegetables."
Tucker "Yeah, you're too beautiful to have to cook."
Girl "Too beautiful to cook?"
Tucker "Nevermind, it's an American girl thing."
Tucker "So who's that guy you were with. He looks like a tool."
Girl "A tool?"
Tucker "He's just temporary, isn't he? He's just taking up space and buying you food until you can find someone good to marry and get your citizenship. Right?"
Girl "Oh, I don't know. Hehehe."
Tucker "Alright, you've sold me. Give me your number and we can talk about it over some fried chicken and Ripple."
Girl "Ripple? What is Ripple?"
I ended up getting her number. I am debating whether or not I should call her. On the plus side, she's very hot. On the minus side, she speaks bad English and understands about 25% of my jokes, which would probably get real annoying real fast.
I still have yet to completely figure out what happened, and who orchestrated the Bring Tucker To The Party fiasco, because the girl (or guy/people) responsible never stepped up to me. I wasn't mad at all; I thought it was pretty funny, and I got two hours of free beer out of it. No one said anything to me when I was there. Nothing at all. I probably would have congratulated the person(s) who thought this up and pulled it off, but they just (presumably) stared at me and giggled to their friends.
The best part was the next day when I emailed this person, congratulating her on a job well done, and asking the details of the plot, so I could accurately report it here. In the email I got back, she (he/they) tried to talk shit to me. OK, buddy, whatever. Have fun being a University of Chicago physics grad student.
UPDATE: I did call Angel and ended up hooking up with her. I'm glad I did too, she was great in bed.
Posted by Tucker Max at 11:31 AM