Or, being the stripper.
I could give a one word answer to this question, Vegas. My good ole stomping grounds, from way back before I was 21. My friends and I made an annual trip of going to Vegas for my 21st birthday, bachelorette party, and several other birthdays and events.
Well, over the years, I had a family, became divorced, and was eventually experiencing the single life again, with two budding young teens. So, I turn the big 40 and I'm looking good, (always have)--feeling good with that "Who am I going to be in life" insecurity long faded with time. So, I'm feeling confident. Anyway, something about Vegas made me feel soooo old, although the more I drank, the more nostalgic, you could say, I became. So of course I'm drinking alcohol for the first time in like two years, because, why not, I'm in Vegas, its girls night, and It's my birthday! Wooo. The only problem is that when I drink, I become laser-focused on sex and getting it. So, I'm acting like the bell of the ball, while also being fully aware that this crazy ass shit is about 2 decades late and I've got two teens and a professional career to sober up to the next day. But none of that matters, because I'm feeling good, I'm horny, I haven't had sex in 3 years, and goddamn it, it's my birthday! I'm a forty year old woman and goddamn it, I am here to get laid! I'm gonna make some lucky guy's night!! Oh, yeah, he's gonna get that star struck look in his eye, glance back over his shoulder and say, "Who me?" "Really?" Like he just won a car playing video poker or something. So I meet this guy, he's about 30 and his reluctance to get cozy with me is completely lost on my drunken stupor. But wait until he see's what I have in store for him! I'm gonna make him forget what inhibition EVER felt like!!! So, rather than talk about his room or mine, I drag him into an elegant restaurant off the side of the resort floor. The restaurant is closed, but not closed-in and we freely make our way to a darkened corner booth, where there is (conveniently) a privacy shade. So I draw the shade and we start kissing and the feeling is like some sort of supernatural sensation, which was, apparently, actually a long forgotten normal part of my human experience of the past. (Oh, the nostalgia). So, I'm thinking, "Yes, MyNameisClever, you're gonna get your birthday present--all this responsibility, and abstinence, and sobriety, and upstandingness has certainly earned you this impish birthday present!" So, as I'm riding (yes, fucking in the restaurant) my newfound, prey of the night with fantasies of someone stumbling upon us to gratify my exhibitionism, (the exhibitionism that only comes out when I drink), I'm fully turned on by the fact that I'm having sex with some strange dude, in a semi-public place, in a fully drunken state of being.
The rest of the morning fades, until suddenly I'm feeling half naked in a public place, with cotton mouth, morning ass breath, and a bursting bladder. I'm looking at this guy and saying to myself, how the fuck did I get here?! I said to myself, don't be embarrassed, just get to your room as soon as possible and you will never have to see him again. He was clearly feeling embarrassed and awkward and he said, "You didn't have to do that." Um, what? Not, "god that was amazing." Not, "God thank you, you made my night so fun..." but, "You didn't have to do that."??? We stood up, walked toward the elevators, I was significantly disoriented and we said goodbye. No, "Can I get your number", no, "hey thanks I had fun," No, "Can I help you find your room." Guy just beelined for wherever the fuck he was going. Sigh.
Uncool.