The Premier Party: Why Girls are Bitchy Prudes

It was a beautiful night last Spring, I was on my way to a film premiere party with a woman, and I looked great. We didn't go to the film screening, just the after party at the W Hotel in Westwood. It’s hard for me to sit through an entire movie without going crazy.

My girl wore a classy, blue dress. She is smart, pretty, and girlfriend material. Too bad I'm not a girlfriend guy. We’ll call her Blue Dress.

We stroll into the W Hotel. I get more stares than my girl, which feels great.

There is an immediate problem, I see a woman that is hotter than the girl I'm with. We'll refer to the hotter girl by the style of dress she wears; Cheetah Print.

I have to get rid of Blue Dress. I tell her I feel bad for forcing her to stay at this boring party. her that I have to stay for work, but that she should salvage the night and go have fun with her girlfriends, then we'll meet up later. She tells me how sweet and selfless I am for suggesting it. Blue Dress scampers off.

I approach Cheetah Print, "Good evening. Did you enjoy the film?"

"I didn't see it, I only come to after parties," she says while smiling slightly. "That's a nice suit."

"Thank you, it wasn't cheap. Unless you consider Armani to be cheap."

"You seem like a man who isn’t afraid to spend money on the finer things in life,” she says as she grabs my tie.

"You are correct, In fact I rented out the best suite in the hotel."

"Really. I'd love to see it."

That was easy. I know I'm attractive and confidant, but I thought this would be more of a challenge. "Let's finish these drinks and head up there," I say.

"No problem," then she tells continues, "My overnight package starts at $1500."

"Oh."

"Oh?"

"I didn't realize you were a prostitute."

"Really? You thought a hot women would jump into bed with you so quickly?"

"Yes. You obviously don't know who I am. By the way, this suit costs $1200."

My self esteem has taken a bit of a hit and needs to be revitalized. I down three more tanqueray and tonics, then walk over to the bartender. Everyone hits on bartenders, but most people aren't me. We'll call the bartender Silicon.

She is in the middle of a conversation with some d-bag, but I confidently interrupt, "Do you know what I can do for you?"

"Throw up all over me?"

"Is that what you're into?"

"Uh... no," she says.

"I'll cut to the chase, I'm a high powered agent. I know this is forward, but I have a part for you in an upcoming movie. It's an indie, but it'll play the festival circuit."

"What makes you think I'm an actress?" she asks.

"You are a bartender in Los Angeles."

"I'm paying my way through nursing school."

I look at massive breasts, "I bet those puppies really pop in a nurse outfit."

"You can walk out of here or I'll have a bouncer escort you ," she threatens.

"I'll walk out of here, but you didn't pay ten grand for people NOT to notice those DD's. I'm just validating your purchase."

I walk out of the bar, self esteem even lower than it was ten minutes ago, but I'm not throwing in the towel. I walk over to the UCLA bar, Maloney's. UCLA is a good school and people that went there spent high school with their face stuffed in a book. When these girls finally get to college, they let loose and they go crazy. When I get to the bar, there is a line and a bouncer. Are you kidding me? I slip the bouncer a c-note and I walk past the line of frat boys with freshly popped collars.

I am dressed in a nice suit and everyone else is casual, I must look really impressive to the college girls. I order two old fashions and ask one lucky girl, "What's you major?" She just kind of looks at me without responding. It's understandable that she would be so shy around someone as good looking as myself.

I see a drunk girl giving another girl a lap dance. Target confirmed. I approach her and say, "Hello there."

She replies, "Howdy. Are you like a grad student."

"Actually, I work in... (wait for it)... the business."

"Wow, that's so cool. I like totally want to like be a writer when I graduate."

"I bet you are really talented, what do you write?"

"Nothing yet, school is just so demanding..."

Yeah, like going to class 2 hours a day and partying every night is demanding. She keeps going, "... but I like have so many good ideas you know, it's just takes soooo long to write it all out."

"Yeah, you really seem cut out to be a writer though," I try to say without laughing. "You have such a creative vibe about you."

"Thank you. The Twilight series really inspired me. I wrote poems all through high school, they're mostly about my dad, but some are about my uncle."

"It's a bit cramped in here. I have a large suite at the W, would you care to join for a night cap?"

"The W? You are so classy. Sure. Let me say bye to my friends. I'll meet you out front in 5," she says. It's a done deal.

I'm ten drinks in and really need release some liquid. So I go by the side of the building and start urinating. A hulking arm grabs me. "Yo, what the fuck?!" It is the bouncer from earlier. The meathead pulls me out where everyone can see and pushes me in front of a cop. I just gave him $100! What a tool.

So my pants are down, the entire line can see me, and a cop is laughing at me. My girl walks out, she takes one look at me standing in front of the cop, and she walks back inside. I stare daggers at the cock blocking bouncer and say, "I make more money in one week than you do in a year."

"That may be so, but you aren't getting any tonight," he replies.

The Cop hands me a ticket. "I have to go to fucking court! Are you kidding me?"

The cop replies, "Do you make your money in a week than I do in a year? I hate you rich, hollywood types. You think you can just do whatever you want, whenever you want."

"Oh great, so you understand me. Let's just put this whole thing behind us."

"You just earned yourself a drunk-in-public citation too. Have fun in court."

Worst. Night. Ever.

I'll save the court experience for another story ... let's just say I learned a lot about the lower class.