Last Chance for Ass

Today’s blog is from a special guest contributor who truly understands the Relax Your Face ethos. Enjoy!


My story begins in El Paso, Texas, a few weeks before I embarked on an all-expenses-paid trip to Afghanistan for the better part of a year. Since it was July 4th weekend, I had a four-day pass (read: last opportunity to drink, fuck, and do anything else soldiers love). I spent most of my 96 hours of freedom bouncing between alcohol-fueled shenanigans and alcohol-induced dementia. Most of the roughly 200 deploying soldiers were staying at the same hotel and it remains an unexplained mystery how no one was kicked out; a sampling of the weekend’s offerings included skinny dipping in the fountain, crashing a wedding reception, vandalizing the elevator camera (in order to have sex in the elevator), and 5 a.m. pool parties, for starters.

It was Saturday night: our last evening for debauchery. Everyone was in rough shape from the previous three days, but my buddy Mike and I decided to rally and take a cab downtown. We had only one goal: find someone to pleasure our soon-to-be-very-lonely genitals.

11:00 pm: Bar #1. We arrive and start downing vodka+Red Bulls in an attempt to remain both tipsy and awake.

11:30 pm: We determine there are no promising “prospects” at Bar #1. Change course, move down the street. Embark on new flight path.

11:45 pm: Bar #2. This place appears to be more promising. Consume more vodka+Red Bulls, acquire shots, commence conversations with pretty girls.

12:30 am: We are both drunk and tired. Despite dancing and socializing with few prospects, no one seems inclined to head back to the hotel with either of us. Examine our options.

1:00 am: There is only one solution: more alcohol and lower standards. New course set…engage.

1:30 am: Two girls we started talking to at about midnight are starting to look attractive and they seem interested. Perfect. Maintain course.

2:00 am: They offer us a ride back to the hotel. Cram into the backseat, maneuvering soldier-size arms and legs into every tiny inch of real estate not occupied by a car seat.

2:15 am: Make a quick stop for sustenance (the only time Taco Bell is ever an appropriate choice of nutrition). Steady course.

2:45 am: We arrive at the hotel. Despite the hour, there are still a couple of our most strong-livered friends on the pool deck. They’re draped around a table, which boasts a mountain of empty bottles and cans teetering on the brink of a cascade. They have reached a historic level of inebriation. We socialize as briefly as politeness allows – approach maneuvers complete.

3:30 am: Mike and his date head to the relative seclusion of the outdoor hot tub.

3:45 am: Pants down, head up: Mike’s date is blowing him on the pool deck. I suggest to my own date that we “go get some sleep” and we head to my room. Landing zone in sight.

4:00 am: My date is being a little shy. I gather my last bit of energy to persevere. I give thanks to the god of Red Bull and flight.

4:15 am: Coming in for the approach. I hear the sound of water dripping and briefly consider that this is unusual for a balcony room during a very dry July. Fuck it, maintenance issues aren’t going to stop me now.

4:20 am: The dripping now sounds like a small waterfall. Whatever, clothes are coming off. Beginning final descent, coming in hard, balls to the wall.

4:25 am: Her hand is on my cock when she asks, “what is that sound?” I tell her it doesn’t matter. She doesn’t accept this answer. I snap on the bedside lamp to investigate and find Niagara Fucking Falls cascading into the foyer through what used to be the hall light fixture. The water is already about two inches deep in the entryway and bathroom, and is starting to gush into the hallway towards the main room. I have brought no snorkeling gear on this mission and am not prepared for a water landing.

4:35 am: There are no other available rooms. The concierge is “very sorry.” Wave off, wave off, wave off.

4:45 am: I am sex-less, sleep-less, room-less, and knocking on Mike’s door asking to share his bed. Hooah.

The End.


It should be noted that the fine gentleman protagonist who spawned the Relax Your Face blog itself is today’s guest author and the protagonist of this story.

Imagine my surprise when I ran into him after a number of years and sheepishly admitted to running a blog dedicated to godawful dating stories inspired by his antics – and my delight when he volunteered his own fantastic contribution. Thank you, my good-spirited friend!



Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s