Always Remember Where You Parked

**This is a Story I revised from an old blog**

“I can trust you right?” the voice said on my phone. It had such a calming tone as if the person on the other end already knew the answer. I could tell it was just a knee jerk reaction. Ol’ boy and I had never officially met in real life yet, but we had messaged back and forth on a forum we both write on. He was a vet and I was just a young grasshopper in training.

“Yea man, I got you.” I said in a chill voice.

“Okay, I’ll hit you up where we are heading in a bit,” He answered back.

I hung up. My mood was already high from hitting on group of girls at H&M earlier. The main chick had a blonde daddies little girl attitude, that screamed for me to playfully put her in her place. She was standing at the checkout line having a serious internal crisis about whether to buy a necklace.

“I’m really hoping you take one more step, because I am totally taking your spot in line.” I said with a coy smirk. My eyes locked with hers. She froze a bit, and had a confused look about her as if to register that this total stranger has read her body language. From there it was classic back and forth teasing. During pauses, I would stare at her ass determining if it was more onion or apple shaped. I never reached a definite verdict, but leaned towards apple.


My boy hit me back and I hopped in my 2016 Navigator rental to meet him. Never mind the fact that I’m late returning it and have Jerry from Alamo leaving me stern voicemails. Ol’ boy called with an SOS flag needing a wing man to run interference, don’t be an ass Jerry. Plus, he dropped the line that she was from France. Never met a French chick before, but I’ve also never met a normal person from the internet before. Hopefully this will be a first.

The spot was popping off as I pulled in. The street was all blocked off due to the debauchery. I parked at a random garage and proceeded to get lost multiple times on my way to the bar, typical occurrence for a new Floridian. No worries though, I’ll just ask the nice citizens of South Florida for directions. “Excuse me miss do you know whe-”


Got to love the hospitality around these parts.

Finally, I find the place and meet up with my internet friend. He’s right up my alley, chill guy, and has a vision for his future, which is one of the things that brought us together.

He introduces me to his friends and without hesitation drops a hint of information about how this French girl looks more like Crystal from the blueberry farm. No curve-ball my way, saw that one coming. But I’m here for the fun of the night.

And like a scene from a bad horror movie she walks in. 7 feet tall, short hair, and broad shoulders. My money is on her if she challenged Shaq to a 1-1 game. But being the polite guy I am, I introduce myself to her and shake hands.

“Jesus Fuck!” I say out loud. Her meaty calloused hands are twice the size of mine. One hand job and my dick will become dust! No bueno!

We plow through the rest of the night. I’m having a blast chilling with my new homie, flirting with some women, and he is all over his girl. Everyone parts ways and I’m left with Frenchy. We chit-chat about why she’s in the states. She won a scholarship and is living out a dream to study here. As a poor educated man myself, I can respect that.

Eventually, I say my goodbyes and roll outside. I get the street corner and realize I have no idea where I parked. It’s the first time I’ve ever been to this city. All the parking garages look the fucking same. While, I’m trying to retrace my steps in my buzzed head, there is a tap on my shoulder.

I turn.

”Could I get a ride from you?” said Frenchy with eyes that said she wanted more than a ride. You gots to be kidding me.

I immediately forgot about where my car was. I had a serious dilemma. I’m on a cold streak, should I fuck this monstrosity of a women or not? The pros and cons get weighed out very quickly.

Pro: I’m drunk, horny, and will break my cold streak

Con: There is a good possibility that she does kegels as a part of her workout and her washboard pussy will snap my dick off.

Pro: That could be a funny story to write about later.

Fuck it, pros win.

I grab her waist and pull her close. We begin walking. “The car is this way.” I said in an assuring tone. To kill some time I began teasing her about how french girls don’t shave their armpits. This goes on for a bit and she eats it up.

I’m like a magician doing misdirection. I’m flirting on the outside, but scanning around the street on the inside.

Remember Dammit! Where the fuck did you park!

After walking down different blocks in circles, 30 minutes later I start to get the sense she knows somethings up. Time to kick it up a notch.

“Oh there is the 7-11,” I say.

My old roommate taught me that trick. I throw in another for good measure.

“Here I thought we where on 4th street, ohhhhh. Sorry I’m an idiot sometimes.”

Nailed it! This works for another half hour.

Unfortunately I still can’t find the damn parking garage!

The jig is up and it’s painted all over my body language. She senses it. Nothing I can do at this point. I know what’s coming.

“You don’t know where you parked, do you?”

No hesitation, “Yea, I have no idea.”

She takes a step back and let’s go of my hand. She pulls out her phone.

“I’m going to Uber home. But it was nice to meet you.”

And just like that, the factory closes down for business.

3 thoughts on “Always Remember Where You Parked

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