It was a Thursday night and I was out in Bucktown at some not-so-happening bar which was jamming out to disco. It was one of those hot July nights where nothing mattered more than getting shitty. I was at this place drinking for too long, I knew this when I started disco dancing. I was on beer 9 of the night when Dada walked into the bar. He was sitting alone, which now I look back on probably wasn’t the best person to start a flirtatious conversation with, but I did anyways. Three more beers later I had learned he was an artist and he asked if he could paint me naked, to which I replied “uhh ok.” I seriously thought I would be his muse and it would be all bohemian and poetic. Well I found myself agreeing to go back to his place to check out his paintings and then agreeing to take off all my clothes and once I asked where the art was he showed me the bedroom instead. I was so fucked up when I woke up I had no clue where I was, he was living in some sort of lofty crazy apt in god knows where in the west loop, where I had to climb a ladder to get to his bedroom. I shot up kind of frazzled and tried to put back the pieces from the night before….it took awhile but I got it, as I was figuring out how to get on my clothes, climb the ladder and get the fuck out of his place he shot up. He was crazy polish looking! Nothing like the stud I thought I went home with, I was pissed. I was especially pissed when he tried to have sex again and I was like “DUDE, im not drunk, there is no art, and I’m freaking out about how to get out of here!” I finally managed to find clothing while Dada rubbed all over me fighting me while I tried to put on articles of clothing. Then he said “It’s pretty dead in this neighborhood, if you want I can give you a lift” I just thought screw it, “OK” so me and Dada took me home and listened to NPR the entire time because we had absolutely nothing to say. When he dropped me off he handed me his number and invited me to some party. Once I got out of the car I immediately threw it out. I thought I was out in the clear I can get on with my life and forget what happened….well not really.

Two weeks later I’m at small bar and Dada pops out of nowhere I immediately knock over my beer onto him. He starts talking to me trying to pick me up again! I was so out of there, no Dada is will ever be near me again – they are only full of bullshit, with empty pockets and empty apts with no fucking art.