Look at how fast you clicked no that. You perv.
I wasn't a teenage prostitute. I was just a whore. Relax, this isn't a rehashing of my escapades. This is about the one time I was approached by some dude at an arcade. I was in the 8th grade so I think that made me thirteen.
I just did the math in my head; I was 13.
Anyway, some middle aged, bald, white guy chatted me up outside while I smoked looking all ironic as fuck (I was hipster before hipsters even existed). He tried to make small talk about video games and girls. I was like what the fuck does this crazy ass white man want?
He invited me to his place across the street. He lived in the pretty sweet condo complex across from the shopping center that housed said arcade. I said no, but he offered booze and pot. So I said, what the hell?
I wasn't a prostitute, but I was definitely a cheap date.
We got to his place and I kept my hand in my pocket on the knife I carried. It wasn't much, just three inches, curved and serrated, but it was sharp and I knew how easily it cut through... stuff. Mostly, it gave me a false sense of being in control of the situation.
The TVs were on in every room. All on porn. I made sure he was never out of my line of sight. He told me he had a son about my age.
He offered me a Coors Light. I fucking hated him.
I took the shit beer, chugged it and told him I had shit to do. He didn't try to stop me. I didn't get any pot.
I ended up making out with some brunette chick in the arcade parking lot that night.
Oh yeah, and my mom was pissed when I told her. Which is kinda why I told her.
There's a thing happening on twitter right now - #allthebeststories It's a Frank Turner thing. People are sharing stories of the m...
A lot of you have asked what happened that made me want to drink during the tour. Well, I didn't want to write about it because I didn...