Well my name is John. John Smith. Yeah, real original. Just like my parents who could have called me a thousand other names yet settled on the fucking most common possible name, John. Not even Jonathan or Jon without the stupid ‘H’. People have even asked me if that was my real name! This is the story about karma fucking with me, but in a kind of good way, not that I considered it good until my now-wife showed me how to look at in with a new perspective.
I’m not a gambler. I have the worst possible luck. I’ve been to many casinos and bet on red just to lose ten bucks to black. I have since given up on hoping my luck will change. I’ve tried betting alongside someone who’s on a roll - I break their winning streak. I go to the supermarket and get in the shortest line then the man in front of me decides he wants to write a check and the supermarket’s machine breaks down ... I watch people in the much longer line next to me leaving with their purchases and I’m STILL waiting. You get the idea. Whatever I think will be a winner is destined to become the loser.
I blame my parents for my horrendous luck. It’s like karma is paying me back for having lucky parents by ensuring I have none at all. Actually that’s not true. I was very nearly lucky one time. I tripped over a bag in the park once and skinned my knee. A grey bag on a gray blacktop walkway. I was mad, so I got up, kicked the bag and hurt my toe too. Yeah, just my luck. What surprised me was that when I unzipped the bag, it had tools in it, but that wasn’t all. There was freaking bundles of hundred dollar bills too! I figured karma was FINALLY giving me a break until I was surrounded by law enforcement officials telling me to get down and put my hands on my head. That whole shit was finally resolved but I still had a skinned knee and a sprained toe, plus I lost an afternoon I’ll never get back. I’m never going to open a bag left unattended again!
Any good luck I have is accidental and not aimed at me. Karma just likes to fuck with me by giving people around me good luck just to prove luck exists. I can give you an example of that too. This example is really where I’ve decided to start my story since any place is as good as any other. My computer will probably break down before I get this written up anyway so it doesn’t really matter where I start.
I was at a party and all around me, guys were drunk and hitting on equally drunk girls. I wasn’t drinking because I knew that with my luck, I’d get alcohol poisoning or something. Anyway, there was this one chick who was smoking hot. And drunk. Surely a good combination even with my luck ... NOT! I’d learned my lesson already.
All I wanted to do was sit by myself and enjoy perving on her as guys tried their luck. This one guy, almost too wasted to stand came up to her and lifted her dress to do an impromptu, ‘underwear inspection’. She just giggled, twirled and gave me fodder for masturbation fantasies for weeks! Bronzed legs a mile long with a teeny tiny white satin thong. Her butt cheeks were the most amazing cheeks I’d ever seen live. If I’d done that I would have been slapped or arrested but instead, I got lucky. See?
Anyway, the guy was suitably impressed and when he slurred a request to see the rest of her underwear, she popped her boobs out to prove she wasn’t wearing a bra. That started a full blown stripathon! Chicks and guys alike began trying to outdo each other with their lewd behavior. Guys were getting lucky all around me and I mean right the fuck in front of me! Because I didn’t participate, I didn’t ruin anyone else’s fun and Ms hottie gave another guy a fantastic bj including a happy swallow not four feet from where I sat. I was sorely tempted to get in on the action and I’ve often wondered if I might have actually gotten lucky that one time if I had. But I know my luck. I probably would have gotten a venlarial present or something if I even got that far.
So I sat there perving instead. Eventually I saw a chick sitting out the fun and games too, which stuck me as odd. I mean the main point of that particular party seemed to be to get blasted and out of control. I was only there to drive my drunk buddies home. See, they got lucky having me to drive them home.
With no particular intent in mind, I got up and made my way around the budding orgy to say hi to the plain Jane sitting out the debauchery. I had no sexual interest in her and so it’s not like I was expecting a rejection or anything, because I had no interest to start with. She smiled at me when she saw me heading her way but made no move to really, ‘invite’ me to visit with her.
I walked right up to her, saw she had an empty Dixie cup and, ignoring the urge to focus on the erotic goings on behind me, asked her if I could refill her glass. She thanked me and declined, asking me not to be offended, but she’d had a drink spiked before. That sounded like my sort of luck and I told her so! Her reply to that floored me.
“No one has luck like mine,” she started. “Especially good looking guys like you!” She even said it with a smile.
No one had EVER called me good looking. I was instantly ready to marry her but of course knowing my luck she’d turn out to be a guy in drag and couldn’t legally marry me so I offered to accompany her to refill her own drink instead.
She shrugged, got up and immediately tripped over her own feet, falling into me and banging her head against mine. She apologized profusely and suggested sadly that I’d be safer staying away from her. She never even slapped me or gave me a hard time for the fact that when she head butted me, my hands automatically came up and, well ... you know ... came in contact with her blouse in the most intimate place. It was only a moment and not even long enough to burn the feeling of her bra covered breasts into my memory yet the contact was my first time ever being that close to a female. So sue me. I was a twenty two year old virgin at the time.
I wanted to apologize for that and making her bang her head against mine, but how does one do such a thing? ‘Sorry it’s my bad luck effecting you and it was actually my fault that you tripped over your feet and oh, I feel awful about copping a feel too.’ Yeah ... no! Instead, I just grinned like an idiot, asked if she was okay and insisted she’d done nothing wrong. Together we got cokes and returned to her seat but wouldn’t ya know it, they’d been taken by a couple doing the nasty.
It didn’t take more than a moment to decide to take our cokes outside, away from the major distractions I was being forced to witness. As we got to the front door, it was thrown open and I found myself wearing my coke. Ya know what? I’d been expecting it. I had another shirt in my car. So there, karma, take that! I didn’t even get angry. Of course we went outside and the rain started. It had been totally cloudless when I’d arrived with my buddies too. The plain Jane with me began giggling! I didn’t even know her name and she was already laughing at me.
Instead of getting angry or depressed, I just accepted the fact that I was going to get soaked. I’d really expected the girl to skip back inside so imagine my surprise when she stood with me in the rain and offered me her cup to take a sip from! She was getting soaked too! Damned if I couldn’t already clearly see her bra through her blouse. Was I lucky or unlucky? You have to decide. Wearing a coke, stepping outside away from the visual and audio overload going on inside then getting caught in a downpour. I’ll be damned if I didn’t feel like the luckiest son of a bitch ever! I knew that overthinking it would ruin it for me and tried not to dwell on things.
We walked in the rain together just sharing her coke until we got to my car. Inside it was at least dry. We’d probably been sitting there a good twenty minutes chatting about, of all things, luck - when I realized I didn’t even know her name. You’ll never guess what she told me once I screwed up the courage to ask. I wasn’t being shy, just embarrassed that maybe she’d already told me and I’d forgotten. Anyway, her name ... wait for it ... was fucking Jane. Well not fucking Jane, just Jane actually. The plain Jane I was talking to was actually christened Jane. And Jane had a secret. She was unlucky.
‘You have got to be fucking shitting me, karma!’ I thought to myself. Instead of saying something witty or supportive, I just couldn’t help myself. I began laughing at the universe. When I couldn’t stop immediately, that just made me laugh harder. Jane eventually went from smiling, to frowning, to angry. It was only her opening the door with the intent of storming off that got me to quit. I quickly got hold of myself and her wrist and promised her between gulps of air that it was me, not her, I was laughing at. She snatched her hand away from me but didn’t step back out into the rain, instead allowing me to explain myself.
I composed myself somewhat and explained that there was no way she could call herself unlucky in comparison to how unlucky I was. After a moment, she pulled the door closed again but only so she wouldn’t get wetter since the rain was driving towards her. We spent the next hour or so - hell it could have been four hours, I don’t know - giving examples of how luck avoided us like the plague.
We were still attempting to outdo each other with our stories when my buddy, Chuck, rapped on the window. He was standing there, if you can call leaning on the car somehow not falling over as the definition of standing, without pants or underwear, but his very masculine sized schlong was covered in various colors of lipstick as well! Worse, he didn’t even seem to notice his state of undress!
The rain had stopped, so he wasn’t getting wet. It was dark so it wasn’t as bad for him as it could have been if he’d been sober and half naked in daylight. He’s lucky I guess. My car is a two-door though. My driver’s seat is busted and doesn’t move at all thanks to another buddy’s quick fix. He’d have to get in on Jane’s side. He didn’t care but when she opened the door for him, he did try to squeeze in between Jane’s seat and the door pillar before she could move out of the way, resulting in her getting a face full of his junk. Okay, maybe she is unlucky too, but if I was a girl and interested in guys, it would have been more of a pleasant surprise than anything. But that’s just my opinion. Anyway, she pushed him back, got out and hit the seat-release lever so he could climb in. Instead of getting back in, she leaned into the car, smiled and suggested we could pick up the conversation at a later date.
Does it surprise you that the only pen I had in the car wouldn’t work on my hand and I had no paper? She just laughed and wrote her number in lipstick on the inside of the passenger window. We said our farewells just as Steve, my other rider, came strolling up, carrying Chuck’s pants and sporting a grin. Jane walked away with a wave as Steve slammed his door and cranked his window down, smearing lipstick as he did. I never even thought about it at the time. I just started my car and headed home. Only after Steve climbed out later and I had to reach across and wind the window back up, did I realize what he’d done.