My Horizontal Life: A Collection of One-Night Stands Read online

  "Get your stuff together. We're leaving in two hours for the Vineyard and you need to follow me in case the Civic breaks down." Then he turned and walked back into the house.

  About two and a half hours into the ride, my father's car got a flat tire. I pulled up behind him and watched him try to fix it. Moments later, a Toyota 4Runner stopped by the side of the road and a black man got out. I climbed out of my car as well. We both met at my father's car, and the stranger asked, "Do you need help with that flat tire, sir?"

  My father looked up and said, "Yes, that would be nice. Don't know what happened here. I just need to get the spare on so I can have this tire looked at." The tire needed to be thrown in the trash, not "looked at," but this was another case of my father being delusional about the condition of his cars. When my father noticed me checking out the black guy, who wasn't half bad looking, he said, "Chelsea, get back in your car and keep your pants on." The black man glanced at both of us with a confused expression on his face and then kneeled down to start loosening the bolts.

  Once we got to the Vineyard, my father gave my mother the rundown of what had taken place.

  "Whitefoot and I are having breakfast at the table, and who do you think pops out of her room like everything's coming up roses? Chelsea, that's who. And before you know it, I hear the sbvartzer jump out of her window and steal a car."

  "Dad, shut up. You know he didn't steal that car, it was his," I said. I was bored by the replay of events.

  My mother came over and sat down beside me. "Melvin, please leave her alone," she said.

  "Oh, here we go. Mommy loves Chelsea and Daddy is the bad guy. I'm always the fall guy. I get it, I see what's happening here. It's daddy-bashing time, is that it? I'm the worst daddy in the whole wide world!"

  I wanted this whole discussion to be over with already. But mostly I wanted my father to stop referring to himself as Daddy. It was creeping me out. My brother Greg walked in as all this was going on and gave me a high-five.

  "Good work, Chels. Nicely done."

  "Don't encourage her, Greg. Chelsea, you need to get prioritized, not parade around doing nothing all day but watching your programs and talking on the goddamned telephone. And what the hell is it about the blacks that you like so much? Are you just trying to piss me off?" he asked.

  "Well, they are known to have rather large penises," Greg said.

  I was out the door before I could see my father's face explode with wild fury. My brother and mother weren't far behind, and the three of us jumped into Greg's car and headed into town for some ice cream.

  After two days of complete silence from my father, he ventured out and got three large cases of blueberries. Blueberries are my favorite. He left them on the counter and drove back to New Jersey.

  MY LITTLE NUGGET

  I THINK WE can all agree that sleeping around is a great way to meet people. Furthermore, sleeping around with midgets is a great way to meet midgets.

  The great thing about sleeping with a midget is that first you get to have sex with them and then you can use them as a pillow. Those little midgets have it so easy. Sometimes when I see one, I want to chase it. I don't want to scare them, but I want to hold them and cuddle them. Mostly I would like one for the carpool lane.

  I guess what I'm trying to say is this: If you want something bad enough, you just have to go after it.

  This is what I can remember. I showed up at a party in Cabo San Lucas, Mexico. I had been living in California for over a year, with Ivory, and I was meeting my sisters for a vacation, but they weren't arriving until the next night. A hotel room all to myself is my idea of a good time.

  I went to the pool, where I met a couple who told me they were going to some sort of Cinco de Mayoish party with plenty of margaritas. I thought it sounded like a great idea, and my new friends and I decided to go.

  It's always the couples that are the friendliest who have the most problems. It makes sense, if you think about it. They're so miserable with each other, of course they're fascinated by you.

  When they weren't asking me questions about my Jewish father and gentile mother, they were busy cursing each other out. These two fought constantly, which I didn't have a problem with. It's so much better than watching a couple who can't get enough of each other and sit around making googly eyes back and forth. I had a roommate who had a boyfriend and all they did was make eyes at each other. He was all emotion all the time, constantly talking about his feelings and his profound love for her. He was minutes away from getting his first period. He wrote her poems too. It's my personal belief that if men are writing poems, they're making up for something else. Like a big hairy back, or one ball. Not that one ball is a bad thing. Especially since I don't know any females who are dying to get their hands on a set of balls. The way I see it, the less balls, the better.

  Anyway, this couple wasn't the ogling type. If you put a napkin between these two they'd figure out a way to argue about it. So they bickered all day while I proceeded to get viciously burned in the sun. My mom had just sent me one of those traveling cases, where you put your shampoos and creams into little unmarked containers so you don't have to travel with big bottles that might spill. What I thought was sunblock turned out to be foot cream. I was wondering why the smell was so pungent. My mom spent my entire childhood taking naps while I was stranded at the mall or Hebrew school for hours at a time, and now all of a sudden I'm twenty, and she wants to pack my bags.

  This wasn't the first time I'd looked like an asshole. This was however, the first time complete strangers referred to me as "the asshole." I decided white would be a good contrast for my blistering tan at the party that night and a great way to get the attention I deserved.

  The party was a blast. It was about a five-minute walk from our hotel at some millionaire's beachfront mansion. Everyone was salsa dancing around his pool as the waves crashed on shore. There were belly dancers on balconies. There were margarita-shaped ice sculptures that were made out of actual margaritas and people were slowly disrobing. Everyone was incredibly friendly, and I had a sneaking suspicion that some sort of Ecstasy was involved but I abstained because these weren't my people and, besides, I make it a personal rule never to experiment with drugs while having such a brutal sunburn. Alcohol, on the other hand, is never off-limits.

  Then I saw him. My little midget, wearing a sombrero filled with chips and salsa on his head! It was the most adorable thing I had ever laid eyes on. As if my night could get any better, he was topless but wearing an apron and white pants. I thought I'd died and gone to heaven.

  We hung out all night. I couldn't stop hugging him. He was one of the funniest midgets I'd ever met. Actually, he was the only midget I'd ever met--if you don't count the Internet. He had the cutest little hands and a high-pitched voice. He was shaped like a perfect sphere. He kept telling me one racist joke after another, and I couldn't get enough of him. At one point I had to send him away because I needed to catch my breath. My stomach was aching. He kept slapping my chest when he laughed, leaving what looked like puppy's pawprints all over me. Then he started barking. I love a guy who doesn't take himself too seriously. He was a tricky little oompa loompa too. He kept giving me shot after shot of tequila, and he kept getting taller, and taller, and taller.

  His name was Eric and he was from Cleveland. I wanted to call him Nugget but thought I'd wait until after we became better acquainted. He had moved to Mexico to party for a year after he graduated from mortuary school. He figured his future was gonna be pretty grim, so he wanted to get in some hard-core fun first.

  We talked and danced, and at one point I tried to pick him up, but he was heavy for a little guy. His mom was a midget too, but his dad was human-sized. I guess his dad had a thing for little people, because he had married another midget before his mother. She had cheated on him with someone her own size, so he had gone on his way. I thought his father sounded like a great guy. So open-minded and such a broad thinker, to have fetishes for the little people too