Last summer, I went to visit a friend in Nashville. One night, she had to work, so I went with her friend to see another friend’s band play. Ok, sounds kinda cool, right? Except they were playing at the Hard Rock Cafe. In Nashville, the city of awesome indie music, I had to go spend an evening at a lame music chain.

The music was terrible. Amateur bands are hard to listen to when your friends are the ones playing, but when it’s strangers? Really, really bad.

I tried to make the best of it. I drank several glasses of ($6) rail bourbon and flirted with the musicians. One was probably in his late thirties and was a drummer for one of the band. He told me that he was Swiss and lived in Brooklyn (of course), but he was “on tour” with his band for a few months. Playing for thirteen people at the Nashville Hard Rock Cafe.

Anyway, I got super drunk, and decided to go home with him – to the place where his band was sleeping, in someone’s basement. The highlight of the evening was that his band had picked up a mason jar of peach moonshine (the real, illegal deal) in Virginia that was one of the best things I’ve ever tasted.

We took our moonshine onto the back porch and started making out. He told me that he had a girlfriend in Brooklyn, but she understood that “what happens on the road, stays on the road.” Very classy. But not my problem. Then he decided to go down on me – right on the back porch. I was drunk enough to let it go. Who could possibly see us on the back porch, anyway? The lights were off, right?

At some point, I pulled him up from in between my legs and told him we should take things inside. He sat down in the chair next to me.

“Actually, you should probably go home,” he said. “I have this weird rash…”

I was kind of taken aback. Ok. So you let me come back with you to some strange house, eat me out on the porch, and THEN tell me about your rash? And send me home? What???!

At that point, it was three in the morning. I called my friend.

“I’m so sorry, but could you come pick me up? I’ll explain later.”

While we waited for my friend, we sat and talked for a while, about life, as if he hadn’t just been all up in my lady parts and then disclosed something totally weird. I drank some more delicious moonshine. And then, finally, my friend got there, and I left.

If you’re out there, rashy friend, I hope things have cleared up. And thanks for the moonshine. I should have stolen it.

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