Last year was my first Burn, and my reasons for being there had nothing to do with getting laid. Nevertheless, after three or four days of walking around seeing some of the most beautiful women I had ever seen (We had some in our camp even!) some of whom were wearing only shoes and a smile, I was feeling a bit randy, to say the least. All you men know what I'm talkng about, those Playa Princesses that you still think about on an almost daily basis. I decided to go out that night and see if I couldn't do something to remedy the situation.
I started this little adventure at the Root Society Dome, well I guess technically I started it at Thunderdome right before that, when I spoke briefly to an Aussie Angel with an accent and perfume that drove me crazy immediately. Alas, that was not to be, she was with a group of friends who decided they wanted to leave almost immediately so with barely even a "G'day" she was out of my life forever. That's when I headed over to the Root Society, I hoped to meet some girls on the dancefloor and indeed I did, I danced for about five hours and in that time I "met" three women. I put met in quotes because it was so loud in the dome I have no way of knowing if they understood a word I said. It went something like this; I would be dancing (or what passes for dancing in my case) I'd spot a girl who seemed to be alone and try to catch her eye. If she gave me a smile I'd work my way across the floor and proceed to dance with her. The first couple of times I made the mistake of trying to start a conversation.
Me: "WHAT'S YOUR NAME?"
Me, louder: "WHAT'S YOUR NAME???"
Her, louder: "WHAT?"
The third girl I didn't even try to speak to, I just motioned that it was really loud by covering my ears and then pointed outside. She nodded and we walked outside where we promptly ran into her boyfriend, who'd apparently been looking for her at another camp. After introductions were made he told her that the party was way better at the other place and invited me to go with them. I said no of course, but did manage not to slug the guy as he and his incredibly hot girlfriend were hugging me goodbye. (That last part was a joke, they were very nice people really!) Anyways I'd had enough for one night, so I returned to my camp, to my enormous canvas tent in which I slept alone.
The next night I decided to ride a few art cars in hopes of meeting someone in an environment where I could actually hear something besides bass and possibly get myself laid, but the only thing I got was VERY, VERY, DRUNK. Damn those Bar Cars, I love them! I didn't meet any single straight women until I was three sheets to the wind with the fourth sheet fast approaching. Finally I met a beautiful girl, and guess what? I actually REALLY liked her, she was smart and funny as well as beautiful! But I'm getting a little ahead of myself. A few minutes prior to meeting her, the art car I was riding nearly hit a darkwad and our driver, who was almost as shitfaced as I was, was forced to slam on the brakes rather hard, jostling everyone on board. Unknowingly, and not a little drunkenly, I spilled the entire contents of my cup right into my lap. A few minutes later, having at long last jumped ship and once more afoot, I met the abovementioned beautiful, smart, and funny girl. We were talking about our Burn experiences so far and flirting, and I was actually scoring a few points, despite my state of total inebriation, when for seemingly no reason at all she turns and walks quickly away. I'm wondering if it's something I said or if, like Lewis Carroll's white rabbit, she was just really late for something. It's then that I notice the wet patch on the front of my jeans, clearly visible and far too perfectly round to be anything but what she thought it was. That poor girl will always believe she was being hit on by a sloppy drunk who'd recently pissed himself! I wanted to chase after her and explain but I knew there was no way she was going to buy my ridiculous story which just happened to be the truth.
Feeling rejected and oddly humiliated (I didn't do anything damnit!) I headed back across the Playa in the direction of camp. I decided that "Bernie" had a better chance of getting laid than I did. But things like rejection and humiliation can't survive in the desert, and before I made it back to my camp my pants had dried and I found a really good party at the gay camp near home. (5&G)
NO, I DID NOT "EXPERIMENT."
What happened was I met a cool straight girl, and while she was not the most beautiful or even the funniest or smartest, she did take pity on me and drag my drunk behind to her tent and have her way with me, after which she promptly showed me the door. That's how I knew it was pity and not lust! In fact I think I may have been the recipient of one of those "gift fucks" someone mentioned before! I didn't mind being used in the slightest!
The morale of the story is this: If you're looking for it you're probably just setting yourself up for diappointment, but in BRC good things will almost always happen when you least expect it!