To the girls at number 17

Drained, delirious and on the verge of being violently ill is how I could describe myself as I lay in my bed at 6pm having just woken up from a decidedly stupid bender. Not unlike in the past, I have noticed that the more drugs you consume, the less likely it is for you to have any chance of pulling the trigger once you have a potential suitor isolated. You won’t pick up any subtle hints that she is happy for you to go for the kiss. You’ll be happy to ‘chat’ and find yourself actually being interested in any shit she dribbles from her mouth. You’ll make more ‘friends’ than you could possibly imagine and treat super cute girls like your best mate. Vomit.

Although sex on drugs is amazing, the chances of it happening are slim when you compare it to the greatest sex drug of all-time: Alcohol. 

Over the past couple of nights I’ve hit the drugs hard and really lost my touch when it came to figuring out my game plan. ‘Jen’ was a girl I’d seen out on several occasions. Her friend was of equal attractiveness, but I couldn’t quite go past Jen’s curly red hair and bright blue eyes. On previous nights she had shown a great deal of interest, but due to my drugs consumption, initiated anything remotely sexual was never going to happen. On this particular night I decided to give drugs a rest as I could sense nothing would eventuate unless I took the lead.

The clubs closing at 4am gives you no other option but to continue the party back at someone’s house. This is decidedly preferable to clubs closing at 6am due to the fact that it seems completely reasonable that you'd want to have a few more ‘drinks’ back at their house.

After leaving ‘Grand Café’ with both girls and my brother’s friend we made it back the number 17. I had lived at number 17 in 2009 and 2010 so I knew the house back to front. The best spots for a sneaky bang were stored securely in the back of my mind, so it was just a matter of getting my red headed target isolated. The four of us headed up to the rooftop, (a well-known sex location for anyone who has had the pleasure of staying at number 17) my brother’s friend was struggling to get anywhere with the other girl, so I made the universal head tilt signal for him to leave. With Fanta pants and I sitting rather close the friend quickly got the idea and also made an exit. Game on.

The make outs began and it she showed little to no resistance when removing the lower half of her clothing. The cute, innocent little English woman had turned into a cock hungry sex slave. I don’t recall ever seeing red pubic hair in real life so, unlike any other time in my life, I was secretly praying for a little bit of stubble. My prayers went unanswered; she was as hairless as a tongue. Out of nowhere her friend came back to get a drink so we decided it would be best to move elsewhere.  I lead her down a few flights of stairs and decide the kitchen would be an ideal sex den as it has a lockable door. Once again the clothes come off and once again condoms are not in use. Fuck. I place her on the table in a position that can best be described as the ‘stuffed turkey’.  The night would end with me observing the occupants of the house performing some type of soul cleansing ritual as they watch the sunrise.

Apologies to anyone who ate off that table the next day.

- Gavin Madden