The Beginning of Nothing Special (Detroit: Part 1)

I met this one close to eight years ago. We had a mutual friend in common. He was in Vegas visiting and borrowed one of my friend’s motorcycles. Since I had just gotten my bike out of the shop, I was ecstatic to ride again. I went to my friend’s house to meet up before a ride that night, not knowing he had company.

His friend was cute. He actually reminded me a little bit of Triangle, who was still a fresh wound at that point. The three of us rode together that night to a meetup. He had a couple of friends in a car following us. At the meetup we were all hanging out a bit, with the two of us being flirtatious. 

I didn’t think too much about it, though I was a bit interested. We all ended up going to a strip club that night after the meetups. The flirting continued – in between his private dances. I found out he has quite a fondness for exotic dancers. Some of the guys in my club were there and we were all just having a great time. We left when they shut down, around 6 or 7 in the morning.

The next day, they rode some more while I had to work. I definitely didn’t want to be there. I was a little hung over, extremely tired, and would have much rather been riding with the guys.

After work, I met up at my friend’s house again. I was telling him and his girl that I thought the guy was kinda cute. They laughed at me, of course. But they also let me know he was inquiring about me, as well. I tucked that info in my pocket and kept moving.

That night we went out again to a big motorcycle event. I knew quite a few people there, so I was making my rounds, but would circle back to the little group and talk to my friends and my new little crush and his friends.

Somehow, at one point, they noticed one of the other guys kept eyeing me. Even though I knew the guy had a little crush on me, I wasn’t interested at all. His wife was pretty irritated and insecure any time the guy came near me, but he kept coming by. They started making dares. I asked the guy to take a picture. He did. With me, and with the group. The photos were completely innocent. His wife slapped him.

The guys I was with thought that was a bit funny, since he was supposed to be a big, bad biker with some clout. Looking back, I find it sad that his wife was that insecure, especially in that setting where hugs and photos are commonly shared. Plus, it was all out in the open, so she could see there was nothing more going on. (I was also aware they took part in “the lifestyle”.)

The guys started calling me “Drama Setter” as a joke because of all of that. I laughed it off. It wasn’t my drama, afterall. I grabbed another beer and we kept on pushing. I’m not sure when, but we had exchanged numbers by that time.

A couple of hours (and quite a bit of flirting) later, the entire group ended up at an old diner tucked away off the strip. As we sat in a large group of our friends talking mess to each other and laughing about the shenanigans of the evening, he and I were texting back and forth.

Looking back, I’m sure it was super obvious to all of our friends. Somehow I thought it was a secret. At one point, it got a little interesting.

HIM: You’re coming back to my room with me.

ME: Is that a question or a demand?

HIM: Both.

ME: How can it possibly be both?

Before we could complete our conversation, the tabs had been paid and everyone was ready to go to bed. My friend, my crush, and I were putting on our helmets. Everyone else was in cars.

He whispered, “For real, though, please come back to my hotel with me.”

The three of us rode down Las Vegas Boulevard together for a mile or so before my friend turned right to jump on the freeway. Normally, I would have done the same. I really didn’t want him to know I was about to hook up with this guy. I’m not sure why, but I wanted it to be my little secret.

I continued on with him, with a million thoughts running through my mind. I had to figure out a way to make my friend think I went home, without lying.

We got to the MGM, where he was staying, and parked the motorcycles by valet. We went through the lobby and he led me through a maze of slot machines to the hallway where his room was. He stole the “do not disturb” sign off of his friend’s door on the way.

About ten minutes after we were in the room, I text my friend that I “made it” home, because I figured that should be about the time I should have gotten home if I had jumped on the freeway at the next onramp.

Meanwhile, his friend was at the door and they were laughing and joking, going back and forth about the sign. I was out of view.

The next morning, I woke up, got dressed, and went home. I stripped, took a shower, and laid on my bed contemplating my choices in life. I was feeling some kind of way, but didn’t really know why. As I started to drift off to sleep, my friend called.

He told me that they were going to ride through Red Rock, then go to his house where his girl was making stuffed bell peppers, then the group would be heading back to Michigan. He asked me to join.

I figured I kind of had to. If I declined, he’d know for sure because I never turned down a ride, especially when I had just gotten my bike back after a few weeks. I dragged myself out of bed, got dressed, and headed to our meetup spot near the Stratosphere.

I pulled into the parking lot and was barely taking my helmet off, noting that I was the first to arrive. Except, I wasn’t. Detroit (my crush) and his friends walked out of the tiny building and headed straight toward me.

His friend, who I lovingly call T-Pain because of the resemblance, walked right up to me with his contagious, jolly laugh. “Next time you shouldn’t run off so quick so I can get your walk of shame on camera.”

I probably turned fifty shades of red. Just at that moment, my friend had pulled up and was taking his helmet off. I wasn’t sure what all he had heard. I yell-whispered to Detroit, “You told your fucking friends?” I was furious.

He started laughing and said, “No! They saw us walking through the casino together.”

Then we jumped on the bikes and headed toward Red Rock. I was grateful for that, so I could be alone in my helmet. The entire ride, I was thinking about everything that had transpired. I was so embarrassed. But it was also nice to ride with him.

At one stoplight he was talking to me, saying he was listening to Britney Spears. I was making fun of him. At another stoplight he was reaching in my back pocket like he was going to mess with my phone/music. His friends were taking pictures of us the entire time. They were enjoying the shenanigans.

Once we got back to my friend’s house I found myself in the kitchen alone with his girl. I told her how embarrassed I was about the whole thing and that her guy knew and – she burst out laughing. She said they all already knew, even before we went out the night before.

Apparently he asked my friend if I was spoken for, or if it would be okay for him to talk to me. Between that, and me saying I thought he was cute, and our flirting, it wasn’t hard to put it all together.

I relaxed a little, though I was still embarrassed. I’m not really sure why, though, even after all these years. After dinner, they headed to the airport and my life went back to normal. For a while, anyway.