My Horizontal Life: A Collection of One-Night Stands

by Chelsea Handler

  Ed felt bad after what happened with Lily, so when I called him about Dumb Dumb, he told me he'd throw in a little extra. I didn't quite know what that implied but hoped it meant anal.

  To set up the rendezvous, I took Dumb Dumb to a Backstreet Boys concert--the only way that I could get her out of the house. There have been a couple of times in my life where I have considered killing myself, and this was one of them. Watching these five guys prance around onstage made me question so many things about our culture. One, where were their instruments? Two, were there actually women out there who were turned on by this? Unfortunately, I was chaperoning one who was. Dumb Dumb was just about climaxing. Not like she would have known what had happened if she had.

  I had Ed meet us there and we would "accidentally" bump into him. Then he would introduce himself as the Backstreet Boys' manager and allude to the idea of going backstage. He looked really good that night, and Dumb Dumb actually spotted him before I did, pointing him out as the cutie standing by the bar.

  "Oh, my God, I know that guy! That's Ed. I've met him a bunch of times!" I said. "What on earth is he doing here?"

  The look of excitement on her face was enough for me to call it a night. This plan was going to work.

  We went over to him, and I made the introductions. "Dumb Dumb, this is Ed. Ed, this is my roommate, Dumb Dumb."

  Ed gave her his newly bleached smile and said, "Well, Dumb Dumb, Chelsea never told me she had a roommate who was cuter than her." This guy was good.

  "Really? Oh, my God, you're soooo funny."

  This was her standard response to anyone she liked, whether what he said was funny or not.

  I left them alone to scope out my own man, but within a few minutes I started to feel sick. My stomach was churning and I had broken into a cold sweat. As I leaned against the wall for balance, doubled over from nausea, it hit me. The Backstreet Boys were actually making me ill. I really had to get out of there. Luckily, this could work in favor of my plan. I couldn't believe I hadn't thought of it on my own.

  I went back inside to find Dumb Dumb and Ed and explain that I wasn't feeling well. Just as I had suspected, they were sitting together in a booth, where he was regaling her with stories of God knows what, and she was eating it up. I asked Ed if he would mind driving Dumb Dumb home because I wasn't feeling so hot.

  She looked a little scared for a second, but he assured her that she would be in good hands and he would be nothing but a gentleman. I gave Ed a look to make sure he didn't mean that.

  The minute I stepped outside and could no longer hear the music, I felt much better. My girlfriend Jen was going to some male model party that night so I decided to give her a call. She didn't even answer her cell phone with "hello"; she just picked up and said, "Get your ass over here now if you know anything about anything." Jen was Ivory's roommate, and I had grown to like her just as much--mostly because, unlike Ivory, she could hold her liquor and didn't believe in long-term relationships. Jen was the kind of girl who went out only once every so often, so when she did, she meant business. This was gonna be good.

  I got to Falcon at a little after eleven. Plenty of time to make some one-night connections. There were models everywhere. The unfortunate thing was that there were some female ones too. Good. A challenge.

  I found Jen surrounded by three guys who were all named Ross. She threw one my way, and Ross and I grabbed a table in the back.

  Over drinks, I told him all about my roommate and the night's secret mission, and he thought it was hilarious. He must have laughed at everything I said, which can be very annoying, but only in the morning.

  Ross told me how much he hated modeling, and all the pressure, and blah blah blah. His teeth were so white I found myself wondering what kind of teeth-bleaching agents models had available to them that weren't available on the regular marketplace. He was a little predictable, but I'd met a lot worse.

  I thought he had potential in the game of life if he played his cards right. He definitely had potential in the game of my vagina, but who didn't?

  All the other Rosses joined us, along with Jen and some model girl she befriended. Jen befriends everyone. In this case, I had no objections, because the minute this girl opened her mouth, Dumb Dumb seemed a nuclear physicist. Here was proof that lots of people are indeed very challenged. She kept giggling and talking about her parrot who couldn't stop saying "poop." Like "poop" is such a naughty fucking word. Eventually, everyone started ignoring her, and I think she may have finally fallen asleep at the table.

  Jen and I had some alone time while Ross 1, 2, and 3 went to get some more cocktails. A minute later, I noticed Ross chatting up some other girl at the bar. I'm not the jealous type, but I had to lay down the law.

  "Hey, Ross!!" I shouted. Three guys turned to look in my direction. "No, you." Not wanting to be rude, I pointed at my Ross with two fingers instead of one. "Who are you talking to?"

  He smiled and said, "I'm sorry, I'll be right back."

  "No, no, it's okay," I said. "You can talk to other girls, but when I leave, you're coming with me."

  He smiled again and said, "Yes, okay."

  Perfect. I had landed my man and now I could hang out with Jen. I didn't really have much more to say to Ross anyway, and I'd better save what little I did have for later just in case I found myself in a pinch. Jen went on to tell me how Ivory's current boyfriend, Wang, likes to clip his toenails in their living room as well as make fruit smoothies every morning, and then leave the dirty blender in the sink.

  "That's annoying," I told her. "Dumb Dumb would never stand for that."

  "And how is Strawberry Shortcake?" asked Jen.

  "Well, judging by the way I left things, she should be really good."

  I told her about Ed, and after staring at me for close to thirty seconds with her mouth open, she said. "Wow, you're a really good friend."

  "Well, I can't help it if I'm a giver," I told her. Last call came around and I collected my man. He followed me back to my place in Santa Monica and parked in the street, and then we tiptoed inside.

  Quietly, we sneaked across the apartment toward my room. Dumb Dumb's door was shut so I assumed that Ed was in there popping her cherry. I don't know if I slipped myself a roofie or what, but the next thing I can remember is hearing Dumb Dumb screaming at the top of her lungs and Ross nowhere to be found.

  I looked at my clock. It was four-thirty A.M. I threw on a T-shirt and ran into the hall to find Ross standing there naked and Dumb Dumb in a pair of Finding Nemo pajamas still screaming. Apparently Ross thought the toilet was in her room and was so disoriented that he went in there and started peeing. On her.

  I had never taken a guy home to my apartment before because I knew Dumb Dumb had an aversion to strangers, especially men. I thought it would be okay that night because I figured Ed would be there too. Then in the morning, the four of us could fill each other in on the details of the previous night, and Dumb Dumb could make us all heart-shaped pancakes.

  Boy was I wrong.

  I couldn't even understand what Dumb Dumb was saying because it was at such a high pitch. The only other time I had seen her this upset was when I cut off her subscription to Tiger Beat.

  I told Ross to get lost. It was clearly his cue to leave. He kept apologizing and apologizing, but it didn't help. He just looked ridiculous standing there naked.

  I had to calm Dumb Dumb down. Of course, her first interaction with a penis had to be really up close with urine coming out of it. Not a dream come true. It took me a couple months after my first time having sex to even look at a penis. They're just so silly.

  Innocently, I asked her where Ed was, and she said she had the best night of her life, but he didn't even kiss her good night. That bastard! If only Ed had been there, he could've knocked Ross out, and no one would be the wiser. Plus, I'd have had my bed all to myself.

  I apologized profusely and told her how sorry I was about Ross. I assured her I'd get rid of him. Then I helped her change her s
heets and wash the pee out of her curly red hair. But I knew, from that moment on, our relationship would never be the same.

  When she finally calmed down enough so that she could sleep, I went back to my room. Ross was passed out on the bed. He must have really felt terrible about pissing on my roommate's face.

  "Ross. Ross. Rossss!" I yelled, slapping his face.

  "That's not even my fucking name," he groaned.

  "What?"

  "That's not even my name." Now be was mad. Puhlease.

  "You told me that was your name."

  "No, you said that was gonna be my name because my other two friends were named Ross. You thought it would be funny if you called me Ross too."

  "Whatever," I said. "Listen, there's street cleaning at six. You need to move your car."

  "On a Saturday?"

  "Yes," I said, "unfortunately." Then he asked if he could come back in afterward. Why, so you can urinate on me this time? I thought. "Sorry, I have to go to church very early," I said.

  "But it's Saturday," he reminded me--again.

  "Temple," I said. I think he got the message. If not, he definitely got the message when he realized our street didn't have any street cleaning. I decided that potty training, which had fallen off my list of prerequisites years earlier, would have to make a comeback.

  It turns out that Ed even found Dumb Dumb too stupid. He apologized profusely but couldn't bear to break her heart, and also couldn't bear to listen to her for another second. He told me there was only so much he could hear about the The Lion King.

  The next day I went out and bought Dumb Dumb a karaoke machine and told her it would be a great way to jump-start her singing career.

  "Really?" she asked. "Has anyone ever done that?"

  "Uh duh!" I told her. "How do you think Yanni got started?"

  Ed felt pretty bad about the whole thing. He had never not fulfilled his job requirements before. So we both agreed it would be best if we slept together. Talk about fulfilling a requirement.

  DOCTOR, DOCTOR

  MOST WOMEN I know prefer female gynecologists, masseuses, and therapists. I prefer men. I've always felt that men have a better grasp of the female body, and I've always felt more comfortable naked with a man in the room. Their hands are usually stronger, they're usually more confident when performing the task at hand, and most men have penises. I love penises.

  Ivory had just been referred to a new gynecologist. Apparently her last gynecologist started to give her attitude after seeing her three times in one month. She thought that maybe Ivory was a vaginal hypochondriac.

  She was right. After any sexual contact or her period, Ivory would schedule an appointment with her OB GYN to make sure everything was still intact. She tried to assure me these visits were driven purely by her desire to maintain maximum sexual enjoyment at all times. Knowing Ivory as well as I did, I was aware of the real reason: terror. She was constantly afraid of picking up a disease. This is someone who worried that her clitoris could catch unwanted UV rays from a maxipad that had been sitting in the sun too long. As if maxipads just decided to get up in the middle of the day and walk outside for a tan. She once asked me if I thought you could get crabs from giving someone a blow job. Knowing that crabs are attracted to hairy areas, I told her, "Yes, but only if you have a mustache."

  After her first visit with Dr. Luke, Ivory came directly over to my apartment. She was beaming.

  "You are never going to believe how sexy my new doctor is," she said. Ivory has excellent taste in men. I knew if she thought someone was sexy, he was. "He's funny, sexy, smart, and he's not married!" she cried.

  "Great," I said. "Go out with him."

  "I can't," she said. "I've been seeing Jackson for two months. We've decided to become exclusive."

  Jackson and Ivory. Jackson was the lead singer of some band I can't remember the name of. He was pretty sexy, but his hair was longer than Ivory's and it always looked like he was hiding something in it. Ivory came from a lot of money; her Cuban parents had started a lucrative pet-grooming business that now occupied fourteen different locations. She usually dated rich men. She also wasn't one of those girls who went crazy for musicians, so I was surprised at their pairing. Other than seeing his band perform twice, I didn't know much about Jackson other than the fact that he loved going down on Ivory.

  "Well, too bad," I said. "You'll have to wait until you break up, then. I'm sure you'll get to know Dr. Luke in the meantime."

  "You go out with him," she said.

  The thought of going steady with someone who knew his way around a vagina seemed like a great idea. "Okay," I said. "But first, I'm making an appointment. I have to make sure he's good with a speculum."

  "You're the best! I knew you'd do it. You have to sleep with him too, though. I need to live vicariously through you."

  "Well, let me see what I can do."

  Ivory had never asked me for a favor before. I had done small favors for her, of course, bringing her medicine when she was sick or driving her to the airport, but nothing of this magnitude. I was honored that she trusted me enough to take on this task. She was in need, and luckily she had someone like me to depend on.

  I called that afternoon to make my appointment with Dr. Luke. His first availability was in two weeks. Due to my lack of employment, my schedule was wide open and nothing conflicted on my end. And I couldn't think of a better way to spend my afternoon.

  I immediately scheduled a bikini wax with my aesthetician. When I got there I asked her if she could wax a special message for the doctor. Like, "What's up, Doc?" She said my vagina face wasn't big enough for so many words. I loved the term "vagina face" and couldn't wait to use it in a sentence.

  We agreed on the basic Brazilian--right after I downed a Vicodin. I don't know who thought up waxing, but it was clearly the same person who invented Vicodin.

  Finally, the Tuesday of my appointment rolled around. I decided on a business suit to give the illusion of being a professional. The thought that I would be lying there naked escaped me.

  When I got to the office, I was nervous. What if he didn't like my vagina? What if I had some weird vagina that made him laugh? I usually wasn't this insecure, but I needed him to like me. I could not let Ivory down. Having someone depend on me really made me want to pull through. I filled out some paperwork and took a couple deep breaths.

  When my name was called I went into the examining room and was given one of those cloth robes that doesn't close and has a bottom the size of a napkin, so if I was to sit up, my ass crack would be facing the door when Dr. Luke came in. This was not the first impression I wanted to make. I drew the robe shut and lay down.

  Dr. Luke walked in. He was older, in his late thirties, and Ivory was right--very sexy. He reminded me of a friendly Richard Gere. Really warm. He flashed me a wide, genuine smile revealing a good bedside manner. I hoped this led to a good bedroom manner.

  I liked him instantly. Ivory should be a matchmaker. I had my legs crossed and I was leaning up on my elbows. I looked like I was posing for Playboy.

  "You are Miss . . ."

  "You can call me Chesty--I mean Chelsea." I gave him my best smile. You would have thought we were at a picnic.

  "Okay, Chelsea, you can call me Dr. Luke."

  "Oh, thank you!" We both laughed. He was funny.

  "And what seems to be the problem today?" he asked

  "Oh, nothing in particular, just my annual Pap smear."

  "It says on your chart here that your last Pap smear was two months ago."

  "Really?" I asked. "That's weird, I could have sworn it's been a while."

  "Well, your last doctor sent the test results over, and that's the date of the exam."

  "He's actually not all there . . . mentally, if you catch my drift. That's why I'm here. I think his time as a doctor may be up."

  "Oh, I see," said Dr. Luke. This was going badly. What was with the third degree?

  "Well, let's get started," he said. "Why don't y
ou lie back and relax. We'll just take a look and see if everything's in order."

  I noticed pictures of him on sailboats all over his walls. "Are you a sailor?" I asked as he stuck something cold into my vagina.

  "Yes, about every free chance I get."

  "How weird," I said. "Me too!" If had seen pictures of people eating each other on the wall, I would've told him I was into cannibalism.

  "Really?" he asked. "How often do you go out?"

  "Every chance I get."

  "Do you have your own boat?"

  "Yes. It's being fixed, actually, just a little Boston whaler." It occured to me that a Boston whaler was not a sailboat. He asked what was wrong with it, and I panicked and said a flat.

  "I mean . . . uh, not a flat, an oil leak," I said.

  "Do you compete?" he asked me, as he peered up from in between my legs.

  "Not really, but I love to watch. Sailing has always been my favorite thing to do."

  I didn't even know what I was talking about. I wasn't sure if I was making any sense at all, and I needed to steer the conversation elsewhere, before he found out that the closest I'd ever come to sailing was going down the water slide at Great Adventure.

  "There's a regatta in Catalina this weekend," he told me.

  "Yes, I was supposed to go, but since my boat's in the shop, I think I'm gonna miss it. I was really looking forward to it."

  "My partner and I are going." He didn't look at me when he said this. Was this an invitation?

  "No kidding! Oh, I'm so jealous. It's gonna be such a blast."

  "You know, you can take a boat over to Catalina from Long Beach," he informed me. That definitely didn't sound like an invitation.

  "Oh, yes, I know," I said, "but it's just not the same."

  "Well, everything looks okay down here. We should have the lab work back in a couple weeks, and we'll let you know if anything comes out irregular."

  "It shouldn't. I haven't had sex in a while. Anyway, thanks again. I didn't feel a thing." I considered telling him that it was the best Pap smear I had ever had, but I didn't want to overdo it.