MONKEY BUSINESS

The Gods of Stupidity have struck again.

Some of Pete's good friends have been in town from Rochester and we've been going out almost every night this week with them. They're awesome people and I've really enjoyed getting to know them and have time with them. Last night was their final night in town and they wanted to keep it mellow, just dinner and maybe a movie. We all eat at my favorite pub in Uptown and then walk over to the new movie theater, which holds no movie of our interest. For those not in Charlotte, you have to understand Uptown is not our typical area of the city to hang out in. It's nice, but it's in the hub of all the banking buildings so you get more the suit/yuppie crowd when you go out. We kind of stick out like a sore thumb when they're there. So we're walking around this new shopping center with restaurants, bars, stores and the theater. After we nix the movie idea, the five of us go stop in to this bar that Dale Earnhardt, Jr. owns. It's not our type of place AT ALL, but we decided to just go have a drink there to say we did.

We go in and see they have a mechanical bull and this is going to sound weird, but it's the nicest bull I've ever seen. Seriously, it's all cow hide (ewww) and has a fake cow head on it and everything. So April says she wants somebody to ride it so she can get a picture. Nobody's willing to go, and finally I'm like, "Okay, I'll do it." Luckily the bar is pretty empty, but there's a small crowd at the second bar by the bull. So amongst a room of suits, Nascar fans, and slutty-looking women, I crawl onto the bull in my jeans and sweatjacket. I'm trying to play it off like "Whatever, I'll be off in 10 seconds, this is funny" type of thing. So I'm doing okay and I'm totally laughing, as is everyone else and all of a sudden it stops and totally starts vibrating. I've ridden mechanical bulls before, but never experienced that. It made me feel funny in my pants and I looked up like, "Huh?" and then he starts up the bull again and of course I'm so distracted, I fly off.

Now, this isn't the story. This is just the background information to bring you to how I ended up in the situation I ended up in.

I take a blurry picture of the bull and text it to some of my friends saying I just rode the thing. We leave the bar, go back to the neighborhood and go to our favorite bar there. So we're all hanging out, talking and I got some texts back from some people, and then I get one from Brian. Here's what you need to know for this...Brian is one of my good friends back home and is Chad's boyfriend. We call him Monkey. Chad is in Paris right now.

Brian texts me back, "Who is this?"

I text back, "Oh Monkey, it's Heather!"

The phone rings and it says it's Brian.

Me: MONKEY!!! How the heck are you?

Brian: (Brian is WASTED and can barely talk) Who is this?

Me: Heather!

Brian: Heather who?

Me: Heather Duffin, silly. Boy, you're really wasted. Are you driving? I can hear you driving. You shouldn't be driving if you're wasted, Monkey. Did you see the picture of the bull? I rode a bull tonight!

Brian: Yeah, I saw the picture. I'm taking some buddies home from the bar. I'm not wasted.

Me: You're out with buddies? Ohhhhh, poor Monkey. You miss, Chad don't you? You're all fucked up and out with buddies because you miss Chad. He'll be home soon, Monkey.

Brian: I'm just buzzed I'm not wasted. Just a sec....Bye man. Okay, sorry. I just dropped off my friend.

Me: I can only talk a second. I'm out with friends. How are you doing? I miss you, Monkey.

Brian: I'm doing okay, just been out with my buddies, heading home now.

I notice that his voice has sobered up a little and Monkey sounds very different to me.

Me: I can't wait to see you in May, Monkey! You sound weird. I don't think you should be driving. Seriously, you sound super drunk. You should pull over. So Chad comes back this weekend?

Brian: You keep talking about Chad. Who is Chad?

I stop. Oh my god, this isn't Monkey. Who the fuck am I talking to?

Me: Is this Brian?

Brian: Yes.

Me: Monkey?

Brian: No.

Me: Brian (I say his last name).

Brian: No.

And then it hits me who this is. Last weekend we're at a cookout (that's what they call a BBQ back here) and met this couple and they invited us out to the beach house they're staying at for a month. They were saying we all should come out there and so as Pete and I were leaving, the guy gave us his number so we could get in touch with them about the beach house. His name? Brian. I am NOT telling him who this is for sure. I think it's a bit creepy he's still talking to me, trying to figure out who I am when I'm calling him Monkey. And the guy lives with his girlfriend! Why did he not tell me I was confused? Why is he still talking to me?

Me: I'm really sorry, I have the wrong number. Click.

I grab Pete and tell him what just happened and he's laughing at me. "You might want to delete his number now. You don't want this happening again, do you?" I shake my head and delete the number. Never again. Whatever preventive measures I can take to stop the stupidity, must be done.