When I got to Lydia's place, all three girls were already dressed. Ivory was a sexy schoolgirl, Lydia was a sexy cop, and Jen was an M&M.
The genie costume was really cute and fit me perfectly. As soon as Jen saw it on me I caught a look on her face that said, "Take that off, I'm wearing it."
"Chelsea," Jen said. "I have an idea. You can be the M&M!"
"That's okay," I said. "You keep it. You like chocolate more."
"I insist," she said, grinning like one of those crazed cheerleaders after they've been hurled into the air. "And anyway, the genie's my costume in the first place. I brought it for you."
I put on the M&M suit. The top part was the shape of a pumpkin and formed a perfect green sphere around my body. It came with matching green tights that I wore over my red period panties. Jen's shoes for the M&M outfit didn't fit me and none of Lydia's shoes fit either. The only shoes I had with me were the ones I had worn over. Black Adidas slides. This became my outfit.
"I need your panties," Jen said while checking herself out in the full-length mirror. You could see right through her genie pants, and she was wearing a leopard thong.
"I'm not giving you my panties," I said, "and can we please stop using that word?" There are three words that gross me out: "panties," "moist," and "slick." They all seem like words a child molester would use. Together.
"You need to give me them. I can't wear this outfit with a thong," Jen insisted.
"Fine!" I huffed as I took them off and put my tights back on.
"Don't you want some underwear?" Lydia asked.
"No, I'll just free-ball it." I wasn't in the business of borrowing other people's underwear and could not believe Jen was willing to wear mine.
"Do you want the green paint for your face?" Jen asked.
"No thanks," I said, shooting her a dirty look.
There's a fine line between being easygoing and being taken advantage of, and allowing someone to paint my face green would have been the latter.
"What's the matter? You look adorable," Jen said in the same voice you'd use talking to a girl who was going to her prom in a wheelchair.
Holden waddled up to me, wearing a scuba suit with a mask.
"I guess the two of us will be hanging out together tonight," I said.
The party had potential, but I never got into the swing of things due to my somber mood. Holden and I sat in a corner, making fun of people's costumes, and when we tired of that, I started making fun of Holden, who was sweating so profusely that he had taken down the top half of his scuba suit and was now topless.
At the end of the party, Lydia told us that we were all going to after-hours at some guy in a Batman suit's apartment. The only selling point was that the apartment was in Santa Monica, located conveniently around the corner from Lydia's.
We were approaching the building when I thought it looked eerily familiar. There are many apartment buildings in Santa Monica that are nearly identical; I figured that was the case here. But as Ivory, Jen, Lydia, Holden, and I piled upstairs into Batman's apartment, I glanced around the place and got a not so melancholy feeling. I never forget an apartment. A face, maybe, but not an apartment. I eyed Batman carefully but didn't recognize him at all.
"How long have you lived here?" I asked as I was checking my e-mail from his computer.
"About ten years," he told me.
"Do I look familiar to you?" I asked him as he handed me a beer and I sat there in my M&M costume. I clicked over to Oprah's Web site to see if they had decided on next month's book.
"Not really, what's your name?"
"Chelsea."
"No. Maybe we've seen each other around."
After realizing that this after-party was going nowhere fast, I went into the kitchen and made myself a bowl of Top Ramen. Unfortunately, I had to eat it right out of the pot with a pair of unused chopsticks, because I didn't spot a dishwasher and judging by the looks of this place, he wasn't a good cleaner. The girls were all sitting on his couch as they listened to music. I was tired and reminded them that nothing positive happens after two A.M.
Batman looked at me with devilment in his eyes and said, "That's not true."
I didn't like his tone and left the room. I walked into his bedroom and found a Nintendo box attached to his TV.
Nintendo had been replaced by Play Station years earlier; I hadn't seen one of these boxes since middle school. The excitement I felt at that moment could be paralleled only by J. Lo releasing another album.
I was on level four of Super Mario Brothers when Ivory came in and told me that she thought Jen and Batman were going to hook up.
"She can't," I said. "I think I may have already slept with him."
"You did?"
"I'm not sure, but this place seems familiar."
Ivory left and got Lydia. They stood above me with their arms crossed, watching me play.
"Well, did you or didn't you?" Ivory asked.
"I don't remember, but I know I've been here, and I can't imagine sleeping over at a stranger's house without having sex with him." Then Batman walked into his bedroom holding a black piece of tar and asked if any of us were interested in smoking hash.
"Are you serious?" I said. The thought of smoking a brick had about as much appeal as seeing Michael Bolton perform live.
"Who smokes hash?" Lydia asked.
"Wait a minute. I know how I know you," I said.
Upon being offered hash, the memory flooded back. I was once partying late night at the Compound with some of Lydia's neighbors and Batman was there. He lived about ten blocks from me at the time, so we shared a cab home, but I was so drunk that when we stopped at his place, I got out as well. He didn't remind me that I didn't live there. When I walked inside and realized I was at his house, he leaned in and tried to kiss me. I told him to back off and get me a cold compress, a fan, and a pillow for his couch.
"I crashed here one night a couple of years ago, remember? I slept on your couch and you brought me a cold compress and a fan? Remember, I didn't feel so well?"
"Oh yeah, kind of . . . you were pretty wasted," he said.
"Oh, my God, that is so funny! Where was I?" Lydia asked.
"You were probably dating Ass Breath," I told her.
"Did you guys hook up?" asked Ivory.
"No, I just slept over," I said.
It was true: we hadn't had sex. I felt an immense pride at that moment for having slept over a stranger's house without hooking up. All of a sudden it was as if I were the mature one in our group of girls, and I made a note to myself to counsel them later on how "no means no!"
"Didn't you clean my apartment?" he asked me.
"Yeah, a little bit," I said. I had cleaned up because when I woke up in the morning, I couldn't believe the squalor this guy was living in. I am not a neat freak, so if I'm tidying up around someone's place, it's got to be pretty unsanitary. I distinctly remember there being cold cuts stuck to the wall.
"How did you remember sleeping here after a couple years?" Ivory asked me.
"Because he offered me hash that night too, and these are the only two times in my life that has happened."
"I can't believe you didn't sleep with him," Lydia said.
"Well, Lydia," I said very condescendingly, "sometimes you have to make smarter choices."
"Shut up, asshole," said Ivory.
"Can we go, or does Jen want to hook up with him?" I asked.
"Yeah, let's go. You wanna sleep at my place?" Lydia asked.
Holden, Ivory, Lydia, and I called a cab while Jen stayed behind. We got dropped off at the Compound and Ivory had the cab take her home. Holden walked to his apartment and I told him I'd come by in the morning for my car.
People were still up at the Compound partying. There was loud music playing and strangers were dancing in the courtyard.
"I'm going to bed," I told Lydia. "Give me your keys."
She looked through her purse for an amount of time that I knew could only result in her not
having them. "Shit," she said. "I think I left them at Batman's or in the cab." She didn't seem bothered by this at all. "Oh, well. We'll figure it out," she said.
Lydia's neighbor Gary moseyed over in his cowboy costume to say hi. He tipped up his five-gallon hat and asked what was wrong.
"Lydia lost her house keys and I need to sleep," I said.
"My door's open," he told me. "Just go crash. I'll take the sofa."
"Great," I said. "Thanks, Dubya."
Not knowing Gary or his hygiene very well, I decided to keep my M&M outfit on. My tights and green rotunda would protect me from any potential bedbugs. I passed out and remember feeling Lydia climb into bed some time later that night and then someone else climbing into bed with us.
At around six in the morning I awoke to noises that can be associated only with heavy petting.
They were coming from the bathroom. Suddenly, there were loud crashes of what I presumed were toiletries falling to the floor.
"Oh! Oh! Oh, my God! G-G-G-G-Gary! Yes . . . right there, no up more, oh, my GOD!" yelled Lydia.
Though I couldn't see myself, I knew I had the same look on my face that Macaulay Culkin had in Home Alone when he finds out that his parents have forgotten him.
I rolled out of bed, fell on the floor, and crawled out the door, keeping my head down like I was dodging enemy fire. I hadn't walked two steps outside before I realized I needed my cell phone, purse, and shoes. I tried the door. Locked. I knocked, but no one answered.
I looked around for any sign of life but quickly realized that at some point the night before I had taken my contacts out. Everything beyond twenty feet was blurry. This was not good. I paced back and forth, wondering what my next move would be, when I remembered my car was only blocks away at Holden's.
Could I walk the five blocks to Holden's in my M&M outfit? I knocked on the door of Gary's apartment again, but to no avail. I could still hear Lydia moaning. I felt as if I might become physically ill. This was a complete disaster. I couldn't believe Lydia would have sex while I was feet away in the same apartment. This wasn't high school!
Hearing your friend moaning someone's name during sex is down there with seeing your parents have sex. I know because, luckily for me, I had now experienced both.
There was no other choice. I ran down the steps of the complex and started sprinting along the sidewalk toward Holden's apartment. I stubbed my toe almost immediately, which slowed me to a brisk limp.
What I could barely make out as a woman walking her dog toward me crossed to the other side of the street upon seeing me. A guy in a passing car slowed down and yelled out the window, "Rough night?" This was humiliating. I had never been outside this early before and I didn't like the crowd.
It was one thing to wander around in an M&M costume on Halloween or maybe even the day after, but it was a whole other turn of events for me to be doing it in February. To make it worse, with every step, the thick cottony upper-body part of my costume, the actual M&M, kept riding up above my butt, and I kept having to hold it down with one hand behind my back. And this little M&M had to pee so badly.
When I arrived at Holden's, I immediately started throwing rocks at his sliding glass door. "Holden!" I screamed.
"Keep it down," one of his neighbors yelled, then came out on to his balcony. "Lady . . . oh," he paused. "How would you like it if I called the police?"
"Oh, please, go ahead," I said. "And tell them what, there's a crazy M&M outside?"
The neighbor shook his head and went back inside.
After what seemed like a year, Holden finally came out, rubbing his eyes. As soon as he saw me, he burst out laughing.
"Can you just please come down and get me?" I said. More laughing. Now he was doubled over on his balcony, his face turning red.
"You know what, asshole? Can you laugh at me after I come inside instead of while I'm standing on a street corner?"
Holden went back inside only to come back out thirty seconds later with a camera. After his third snapshot of me at my worst, another neighbor appeared on a balcony. "Here we go again! Can't you and your girlfriends just give it a rest?"
That snapped Holden out of it. He went inside to open the door for me. "I'm not his girlfriend," I shouted up to his neighbor.
Holden came down and let me in. I went inside and peed for close to five minutes. This outfit was a disaster and the panty hose were starting to give me a rash.
"Take me home. I can break into my kitchen window," I told him.
I needed to be in my bed, at my house--now. I had been through enough humiliation for one day. And it was maybe time to start focusing on the path my life was taking.
We got to my apartment at around eight-fifteen. I asked Holden to wait outside just in case I couldn't get in. It shouldn't be hard, I figured; since I lived on the first floor, all I had to do was push myself up to the kitchen window and climb through. I punched in the code to open the gate and made my way over to the kitchen window.
It was higher than I had remembered. I looked around nervously. I had never done this before. I knew it was possible because Lydia had done it once, but then again, she had help. Instead of going to get Holden, I tried on my own. It was unlocked, but I needed to hoist myself up in order to squeeze through. Halfway through, my M&M costume got stuck. The wiring that kept the shape of the M&M wouldn't budge. I either had to take it off my head or climb back down. If I took it off, I knew I could get in--I was already halfway there. So I squirmed out of the costume.
That's when I heard the back gate open and shut. There was the sound of approaching footsteps and then they stopped. Here I was with green tights and no underwear hanging out of my kitchen window with my head in my sink. "Holden, if you take a picture ..."
"It's not Holden," said the voice of my ex-boyfriend/ landlord.
Shit. Shit. Shit. Please tell me this isn't happening to me.
"Do you need a hand, Chelsea?" he asked.
"No, thanks, I'm cool," I said offhandedly. As if people entered their apartments like this all the time.
He sighed deeply, ruffling his keys. Then he opened my door, entered the kitchen, and pulled me through. When I got to the floor I kneeled down with my arms around myself in order to cover my bra and my beaver that you could easily see through my tights. He had taken the M&M part of the costume from outside and put it next to me.
My ex didn't say anything else, but he stared at me for what felt like an unnatural amount of time with a very calm, almost scary look on his face.
"It's not what you think ..." I started to say. I wanted to tell him that despite appearances, I had actually been a very good girl last night and hadn't slept over at some guy's house and that really he should be applauding my heroic effort to get home. I wanted to explain everything, but judging by the look of despair on his face, I knew it would be pointless. It would all sound ridiculous.
"Just don't," he said. He went and got a towel, put it down next to me, and left.
I sat on my kitchen floor wondering what kind of people I was friends with. I also wondered if I was ever going to get married. After about an hour, I decided to stop feeling sorry for myself.
Why not look on the bright side? I had just spent my second night in bed with a stranger I hadn't had sex with. You don't have to be a genius to recognize that I was obviously on some sort of a roll.
FALSE ALARM
SHONIQUA AND I had somehow managed to get jobs working on the same television show. Now we were actually getting paid to act stupid, and we were very excited about it.
We were on a plane to San Francisco, where we would be shooting on location for three days. I was telling her about the latest humiliation with my ex and the M&M costume.
"Bitch, you're really gonna need to get your shit together," she said, as the flight attendant handed us warm peanuts. "Can you believe this ho?" she asked the flight attendant. "I bet you're not running around in Halloween costumes in the middle of winter losing your drawers."
&n
bsp; The flight attendant smiled at Shoniqua, then looked over at me and frowned.
"Lower your voice," I told Shoniqua. "You don't have to tell me I'm an idiot, I already know that. The problem now is that the landlord thinks I've been sleeping around since we broke up and I haven't."
"Fuck him," she said. "He was a pussy, anyway. He didn't deserve your ass and I don't give a shit what he thinks."
"Thanks, Shoniqua."
"What I would like to know is when are you gonna realize that you're a grown-ass woman?" she asked me.
I had never heard anyone call me a "woman" before and it scared me. I still thought of myself as a little girl--or boy.
"What does that mean?" I asked her.
"I don't fucking know," she said. "Don't you want to get married?"
"Yes, of course I want to get married, but does that mean I'm not allowed to go out and have a good time? Am I supposed to just marry any schmuck that comes along? And by the way, here's a news flash, Hammertoes. Nobody wants to marry me, anyway."
"You just love men too fucking much," she said. "You're like a man."
"You know what?" I told her. "It's better to get in the game and love men than to sit around on the sidelines complaining about them all the time like half of our girlfriends. Would you rather I was bitter and talked about how all men in L.A. are scumbags like everyone else in this town?" Now I was building momentum. "Have I ever once complained about being lonely or said that I was giving up? Have I?" I had started shouting and there were tears welling up in my eyes.
"All right, settle the fuck down with the crying. You obviously need to get some ass this weekend, and I'll get on it the minute this plane lands."
"Thank you," I said, relieved.
The flight attendant leaned into our row, looked at us disapprovingly, and asked us if we wouldn't mind keeping our voices down.
"I'm sorry," I told her. "She just got out of prison." Then Shoniqua made a gang sign and the flight attendant took off in the direction she came.