Last weekend, I spent the night in an Indianapolis hotel room with one of my closest friends, Tori*, and a new guy friend I made through work. This guy, Brian*, also brought along two friends, Brent* and Kevin*. No one besides Tori and me knew each other that well, so the night was a little bit random but pretty entertaining. We drank, we danced and eventually I found myself doing some inevitable, hard-core flirting. This happens every time I meet guys: I single out the one I find cutest or funniest, go for them and eventually end up playing kissyface and smudging my eyeliner.
This time, it was Brent. He’s tall, decent-looking (though, admittedly, better-looking while I was drunk) and the last time we’d met I mentioned to Brian that I thought Brent was attractive. So what do we do? Grind on each other at Ugly Monkey, take tons of drunken pictures in the cab and eventually make out in the Marriott elevator on our way up to the 15th floor.
Nothing happens beyond kissing, mainly because I’ve been down that road and 99% of the time it’s a dead end (sorry to use what sounds an awful lot like a cliche).
I wake up and things are normal. All of us are hungover, laughing and sharing stories about the night. Things were fine until someone comments on “America’s Next Top Model,” making a racial slur.
You name it, these three guys said it. They bashed Jews, blacks, gays, Indians, the Chinese, Barack Obama, Hillary Clinton, Amish people, retarded people, women … and not just in passing. This conversation lasted about three hours. They made rape jokes and looked up gross videos on YouTube. And the most vocal guy of all? The one whose face I sucked on drunkenly in the courtyard just hours before.
I’d rather wake up next to a 60-year-old, or Carrot Top or a rabid Doberman, for God’s sake. The last thing I want to do while wildly hungover is hear about how ugly/stupid/poor/pathetic (insert non-white-guy word here) is. Scratch that: Hungover or NOT, I just don’t want to hear about hate. I’d rather sit there and have him insult me — well, he indirectly did — than tell me horrible stories about the mean things he and his friends have done to (again, insert non-white-guy word here). At least I’d defend myself. I wish I had said something instead of staying silent, exchanging looks of horror with Tori and just biding my time until checkout. I guess I was afraid of sounding like a “feminist bitch” or something else along those lines.
I’m sure they had some mean stuff to say about me after we’d all gone our separate ways. I should’ve just said something. Now I have to look at my Jewish family, my Black best friends and my Chinese little cousin and know that there are people all over the place who spout hatred toward the people I love and do it without a second thought. I’ve gotta look at my family and know I didn’t do anything to try and protect them.
Worst hangover I’ve had in a long time, and it hurt long after the headache wore off.
Posted by Katie 
