the stupid things girls do

A long, long time ago, in what feels like a previous life, I had a thing for a boy named Steve. And then he broke my heart. So what’s a college senior living in L.A. to do in order to get over said broken heart? Well, the girl gets her girls together and they go bar-hopping on Sunset Blvd, L.A.’s version of Adams Morgan. Nothing like a whole lot of alcohol to numb the pain.

Have you ever heard of an Adios, Mother F***er? It’s a bright blue drink that’s designed to get you really drunk in the shortest amount of time possible. I used to drink it all the time when I was in college and luckily stopped drinking it when I moved here. The first couple of times that I requested this drink at a bar in DC, the bartender would look at me with confusion and ask, “What’s that?” I guess the recipe hadn’t made it across the country yet. Anyways, the night I tried to get over Steve I had quite a few Adioses.

At some point in the evening, we went down to Saddle Ranch, a restaurant/bar on Sunset that has been shown on TV many times for its famous mechanical bull. In fact, if you are a Sex and the City fan, you’ll recall that in Season 3, Carrie and the girls escape NY for L.A. (in an episode titled Escape from New York) and Miranda rides the mechanical bull at Saddle Ranch and her button-up shirt pops open to expose her bra.

Yeah, so there I was with my friends, drinking on the patio trying to forget about Steve. My main concern was that this guy still wanted to be my friend. It wasn’t enough that he went back to his ex-girlfriend. This foolio still wanted me in his life too. I was confused because Steve's friendship consisted of some more-than-friendship behavior. So, as I drank away to gain some lucidity on the subject, my friends came up with a brilliant idea. They thought that I should do something truly daring, something that would show Steve that I was enjoying my life and didn’t need him to have some fun. My girl friends insisted that the best way to show Steve my new perspective on life was to ride the mechanical bull. In my drunken stupor, I said, “Sure, let’s do it.”

We left the patio and entered the bar where someone was riding the bull. After a few seconds of buckling and jostling on the bull, the rider was thrown off. He gingerly got up, clearly in some pain, and a new victim entered the ring. Suddenly, I wasn’t feeling so ballsy. “It’ll be so much fun, Liz,” my friends said. “You’ve got to do it. You’ve got to show Steve that you’re fine without him.” For some reason, this logic made sense to me. I downed my drink for a boost of liquid confidence. I went up to the counter to sign up to ride the bull. I was going to ride that bull and show Steve that I didn’t need him to have a good time!

When I told the lady behind the counter that I wanted to ride the bull, she gave me a sheet of paper that I needed to sign. I looked at it. The font was small and barely legible (and I didn’t need glasses to see back then). I scanned the form for anything I absolutely needed to know about riding the bull (I don’t’ know…like tips on how to stay on). I was able to make out the words, “not responsible for injuries…including paralysis…and death.” Hmmm…was I signing my life away? Did Saddle Ranch assume that I was sober enough to make such a decision? Granted, these questions were all afterthoughts. After all, this form was the only thing keeping me from my destiny of riding that bull and proving to the world that I didn’t need a man to have a good time. (Later in life, I realized that my vibrator could make this statement for me without having to risk my life).

Finally, it was my turn. I waved goodbye to my friends. They cheered loudly. I got on the bull and the guy who strapped me in (and by strapped in I mean, loosely put a band of leather—which may or may not have been attached to the saddle—around my waist) told me that I could only grip the saddle with one hand and then he gave me a tip. He said, “Relax, it’s just like sex.” Ummm…riding a bull is just like sex? Perhaps he assumed that I was into bestiality.

Suddenly the bull came alive. He buckled and jostled and felt nothing like sex. My legs held on as tight as I could and every second I was on the bull, I felt as though I was going to be thrown off. While listening to my friends cheering my name, I closed my eyes and my short life flashed before me. I thought, after all of this hard work, I will not be graduating college. I thought, I’ll never fall in love. I thought, I’ll never have a guy give me a real orgasm. I thought, I will never have kids (which at the time wasn’t a scary thought). And then it was over. I opened my eyes and realized two things—I was still on the bull and, as a result, I was in a great deal of pain.

I woke up the next morning incredibly sore. I went to the bathroom, pulled down my undies and freaked out. As a result of the previous night’s bull riding, I had bruised my lady bits. I had no idea I could bruise down there. The whole area was black and blue.

The following week, I went out to Sunset with my friends and Steve and I met a boy who kissed me right in front of Steve. Eventually, the bruises on my lady bits faded away and Steve became a distant memory.

Fortunately, I survived probably the stupidest thing I had ever done. However, I don’t regret it one bit.