As soon as I moved out, Elly and I actually got to see each other more than we had when we lived together. I guess we would make more of an effort with each other; organising cinema dates, after work drinks and long lunches. One weekend, we were both bridesmaids at a friend’s wedding. It was a beautiful winter’s day, the kind where you didn’t even need a jacket. The bride looked gorgeous, and as we toasted the couple’s happiness overlooking Sydney Harbour, I felt both honoured and lucky to be there.
For a number of reasons, mainly because ‘it wasn’t his sort of thing,’ Ben did not attend the wedding with me. However, when it finished at 10pm, he came straight over to pick Elly and me up. I was expecting him to take us home, as we were both a little tipsy, but instead he suggested we all go the casino and have a few drinks. When we got to the casino, I made a beeline for an empty blackjack table so Elly and I could practice our blackjack without disturbing other people who actually knew how to play. Yet, in true Ben fashion, we were immediately whisked straight up to the very exclusive high rollers’ room full of gambling big shots who had one hell of a lot of money. Put it this way: Not the sort of place two tipsy bridesmaids could practice their blackjack. The drinks were, of course, free and as we got even more tipsy, my memory begins to blur. I do not remember much about that night (after all, I had been drinking since 1pm), but what I do know is that I had a great time. Ben and Jack very patiently taught us how to play roulette, no mean feat when you were teaching a tipsy, giggling bridesmaid who insisted on putting half her chips on black and the other half on red. However, they obviously did a good job as I came away $200 better off, or at least that’s what Ben told me. It is more than likely I spent $500 of his money winning $200 of my money.
Ben and Jack, of course, bet big and won what looked like thousands of dollars. By 1am, we were all very drunk and so Ben treated us to a sit down dinner in one of the many exclusive restaurants. That was the last thing I remember. Apparently, I ate my dinner, threw up (in the toilet, thank God) and was carried to a waiting taxi by a very sexy, but a little angry, Ben.
A few days after that was Ben’s birthday. We had planned a late night dinner with some of Ben’s friends but during the day, as Ben was busy, I decided to go and meet some boys I went to school with who were on holidays in Sydney. I hadn’t seen those boys in fifteen years, and it was so weird meeting up with them after all that time. Although I apparently looked the same, I was now ‘cool.’ They teased me all day because of how nerdy and quiet I was in school but I think they were a little impressed about how much I had blossomed in the previous fifteen years. That day, we took some drinks down to the beach, and I stayed until 7pm. By that time, I was drunk, to say the least. I had been a little nervous to see people I had been to school with, not eaten all day and had been in the blazing sun with no water whatsoever. As I was just leaving to go home, Ben called me to confirm it was ok for him to pick me up at 8pm for his birthday dinner. I had forgotten all about the dinner! I am officially the worst girlfriend / friend in the world! By that time, I was so drunk I could barely remember getting home, having a shower, getting changed and going to dinner. Even now, if someone were to ask me where we had gone that night, I would not remember, but this is what Ben told me happened.
At 7pm, he called me, and because he was in a rush, he did not notice I was drunk. He assumed, like any normal person would, that I had managed to enjoy a lovely day at the beach without getting completely wasted. Because it was his birthday, he had asked me to wear a particular dress, which was bright pink in colour, very short and very sexy, along with the very beautiful pair of Jimmy Choo shoes he had bought me for Christmas, even though I couldn’t walk more than two steps in them. Apparently, I agreed to his request. At 8pm, he texted me, asking me to wait outside my apartment block so when he drove up with all of his friends, I would be waiting there ‘looking hot.’ So when he drove up and I was not there, he called me with little patience. I was apparently asleep (more like passed out) on the bed. As I promised I would be out in two minutes, he hung up the phone and waited for his beautiful girlfriend to wow his friends in her gorgeous pink dress. When I finally staggered out of the apartment block, I was wearing the same shorts I had worn to the beach, a very old baggy orange shirt with holes in it that I honestly thought I had thrown away months before and, of course, my Jimmy Choo shoes. Although I had managed to have a shower, I had for some reason not managed to wash my hair, and because I had been in and out the ocean all day, it was windswept, salty and frizzy. As if a final kick in the gut for Ben, I managed to drunkenly fall down the steps of my apartment block on my way out to the car. Although I completely blamed the shoes, I was, to say the least, a drunken mess.
When Ben said he had not seen me that drunk since the previous weekend a stab of guilt ran through me, and I vowed to reign in my drinking so I could at least remember my nights out.
Apparently, the very exclusive restaurant we had reservations for would not let us in because when Ben said he didn’t like what I was wearing, I insisted on taking my shirt off to reveal only my bra. At the second restaurant, I was allowed in but was not allowed to drink alcohol. However, at the time, I did not notice in the slightest and was downing glasses of cranberry juice, assuming it was vodka and cranberry. After eating some pizza, I finally start to sober up very slightly and that is where my memory starts to return; or at least flashbacks do. After dinner, I invited everyone back to mine for a party. By that stage, Ben was losing all patience, and who could blame him? I had completely ruined his birthday meal. But he reluctantly came back to my apartment, along with Jack and two of their friends. As we drove back to my house, music was playing and everyone, apart from Ben, seemed like they were enjoying the night, despite the drunken mess of an English girl. As soon as we got in, Ben went to the bedroom to lie down. I tried to get him to come out and have fun, but he was having none of it. I decided to leave him to his mood and continued my partying in the lounge room with Jack and his friends.
Now, I was obviously still very drunk, but unlike before dinner, I do have some vague memories of what happened next. Ben’s two friends went outside for a cigarette, and Jack and I decided to try and get Ben in the mood to party with us. We both ran into the bedroom and jumped on the bed, laughing and giggling. Ben grabbed me immediately and started to kiss me. Because I was drunk, I was immediately turned on, but I honestly have no idea how we ended up doing what we did. As I started to enjoy the kiss, Ben whispered in my ear and told me to kiss Jack. Because I was drunk and because I totally adored Jack, I did as I was told. Jack pressed up against me and immediately got hard, and for some reason it turned me on even more. As I continued to kiss Jack, I could hear Ben getting turned on behind me. I have no idea how it happened or how we got to that stage, but I ended up having a threesome with Ben and Jack. It was the birthday present I had always wanted to give Ben, although Jack had never been part of that plan! Within an hour, the apartment was empty again, and I felt strange, like I was about to cry. When my phone did not stop ringing all night, with both Ben and Jack checking that I was ok, I knew I had not made a mistake. If I was going to have a threesome with anyone, I was glad it was those two men. I knew deep down that they really cared about me and that we were friends for life, regardless of what a drunken mess I was. Although if I’m honest, a threesome just doesn’t do it for this polite little British girl I’m afraid.‘Do what you feel in your heart to be right; you will be criticised either way.’ — Unknown.