Once upon a time, in a galaxy far, far away, I met a guy who was only in town for the night. We kind of hit it off and exchanged phone numbers and email addresses. This guy turned out to have too much money and frequent flier miles, so he offered to meet me in South Beach one weekend so we could get to know each other better. I took various security precautions to ensure he wouldn\u2019t leave me for dead, but I did not know this meant I was expected to, well, put out.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
In honor of PEOTUS\u2019s hands, his inauguration (I will be wearing black, in mourning for our country and general notions of sanity and goodness) and throwback Thursday , I bring you the story of tiny hands in South Beach.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Miami International Airport.<\/em> There he is\u2014tiny hands. Okay, he\u2019s cute\u2014short (with tiny hands\u2014as I\u2019ll discover later), but cute. I can handle this. We grab a cab and direct our driver to our hotel. \u201cSecond-best hotel in South Beach,\u201d tiny hands says to me, as if I care. I nod and wonder aloud, \u201cAccording to whom?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Second Best Hotel in South Beach. <\/em>We check in and find our room decorated in white; very sleek and very modern. I stare at the bed. THE bed. Just one. There\u2019s also a couch\u2026could I ask him to? Ah, forget it. I\u2019ll get drunk and pass out and then I won\u2019t have to deal.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Tantra.<\/em> Very cool place. Diva recommended it specifically for the aphrodisiac menu. I tear into my entr\u00e9e and wait for the aphrodisiac effect. Nothing. I gulp some more alcohol and look at tiny hands. Nope, still nothing. What is he babbling about? Oh yeah, something about the millions of trips he\u2019s taken this year. And how he\u2019s a really bad dancer. Thanks for the warning. What the hell? Now he\u2019s text messaging his friend.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cThis guy, who I\u2019m talking to; he\u2019s the one who recommended the hotel-second best in South Beach.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n I think about faking a heart attack so I can spend the weekend in the hospital.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Second Best Hotel in South Beach.<\/em> We return from Tantra slightly buzzed. Well, I am. I\u2019m also exhausted\u2014it\u2019s been a long day. I brush my teeth, change for bed and dive under the sheets.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cGood night! So very tired!\u201d I say, and turn over. I wonder if tiny is a tiny bit disappointed, but then again, so was I when I realized how lame he is.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Lunch.<\/em> Somehow, we\u2019ve gotten turned around on the directions from the girl at the concierge desk. We\u2019re walking; well, I am\u2014and tiny hands is sort of shuffling and whining about his Adidas soccer slippers. They\u2019re hurting his tender feet. Maybe that\u2019s because (1) they\u2019re brand new (2) they are supposed to be worn with socks and (3) tiny hands doesn\u2019t play soccer.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Yet he\u2019s insistent on finding this stupid restaurant. We pass roughly 6,000 sidewalk cafes and I\u2019m about to gnaw my arm off when we finally choose one at random. We choose badly, as the waiter is so stoned he forgets about us. Which means I get hungrier and tiny hands gets chattier. This time I get to hear about his Saab and how it really punches on the highway. I watch some hot guys play volleyball and wonder if I could join them.<\/p>\n\n\n\n We\u2019re walking back from lunch when tiny hands takes my hand. It\u2019s all I can do not to snatch my palm out of his. Oh jeez. It\u2019s so SMALL. And sweaty. Dude, is this guy really 13? What\u2019s going ON here?<\/p>\n\n\n\n Beach.<\/em> I\u2019m lying in the sun, hoping that tiny hands will STOP talking. For just a minute. And if he does talk, please God, make it something interesting. But no. I have my nose in a novel and he asks, \u201cWhat are you reading?\u201d I answer without removing my eyes from the page.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cSo, do you need me to help put lotion on your back?\u201d he asks.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cNo, I\u2019m fine.\u201d Reading.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Sweet silence for a few moments. Then, \u201cAre you sure you don\u2019t want to take your top off?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Would it be more painful to kill him by dumping him in the ocean with raw meat tied to him, or perhaps by burying him in the sand and depositing birdseed on his head?<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cSo, have your boobs ever been in the sun?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Raw meat. Sharks. Yesssss.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Finally he says he\u2019s going swimming. As soon as he\u2019s out of earshot I grab my phone.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cGIGI! Help! This guy is so not cool! I can\u2019t stand him! I want to come home! Help!\u201d She giggles and tries to reassure me. After all, I only have another 24 hours to go. Tiny hands unfortunately has not drowned, as he returns and lies down in his lounge chair. Finally, he\u2019s quiet and I sneak a peek to see if he\u2019s fallen asleep. If so, maybe I can grab my stuff and run\u2026fast. I can\u2019t tell what he\u2019s doing behind the mirrored sunglasses. Yeah, mirrored. Don\u2019t ask. So I decide to flip over. \u201cGood idea,\u201d he comments. Oh GOD. He\u2019s still awake. And WHERE is the damn waiter? We\u2019ve been out here for two hours and not a drop of alcohol. And tiny hands has a strict rule about not drinking until 5 p.m. Whatever.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Pool.<\/em> Good. Pool = drinks and food. Tiny hands gets in the water and I grab another deck chair and a new magazine. Sweet Jesus\u2014there\u2019s a waitress, heading my way with a tray. it\u2019s like she\u2019s in slow motion as she hands me a deliciously cool vodka tonic, and I\u2019m saying, \u201cYeah, just charge that to the room.\u201d Tiny hands gets out of the pool to join me, drains his Heineken and says he\u2019ll have a vodka tonic also.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI usually have gin and tonic,\u201d he tells me, while I wonder how long it would take me to drown myself.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I mutter, \u201cOh?\u201d while focused on the magazine. I may even have it upside down.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cBut I decided to try vodka tonic.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cWhy?\u201d Do I look like I care, buddy?<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cBecause you\u2019re drinking it; and well, because it sounded so light and refreshing that I wanted to try it.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n I grab my own cocktail and down it. He did not just say \u201clight and refreshing,\u201d did he? There should be a list of words straight men should not say\u2014and \u201clight and refreshing\u201d should be on it. And why the hell does it matter what I\u2019m drinking?<\/p>\n\n\n\n Hotel Room Patio.<\/em> Three vodka tonics later, we\u2019re waiting for dinner. Well, that\u2019s what I\u2019m doing. If I can just keep him out of the room, maybe he won\u2019t try and make out with me. I keep running to the bar to get more vodka tonics, while tiny hands babbles about everything from his cable modem to his mom\u2019s boyfriends when he was growing up to condo fees for the new place he wants to buy in Georgetown. Oh\u2014and don\u2019t forget\u2014this is the SECOND best hotel in Miami beach. THE SECOND BEST. I resist the urge to scream \u201cSHUT UP!\u201d and smile and sip my cocktail instead.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I\u2019m getting out of the shower\u2014door locked\u2014when I hear my cell phone ringing. It\u2019s Diva. \u201cWhat are you doing?\u201d she asks.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cHiding in the bathroom,\u201d I hiss.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cOh no,\u201d she replies, laughing. \u201cThat can\u2019t be good.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI can\u2019t wait to get the hell out of here,\u201d I tell her. I hang up with Diva and make up songs about how much I hate tiny hands. Yup, the alcohol is helping.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Some Restaurant.<\/em> Tiny hands and I can\u2019t agree on wine so we order by the glass. I\u2019ve lost track of how much I\u2019ve had. I just know that as soon as he gets up to go to the bathroom, there\u2019s a guy facing me from across the room who shakes his head sadly at me. I start laughing and mouth, \u201cHe\u2019s that bad?\u201d He shrugs and makes a motion to slit his throat. I\u2019m convulsing with giggles when tiny hands returns to the table.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cWhat, are you flirting with someone?\u201d he says. He looks enraged but still\u2026tiny and lame.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I giggle some more, take a gulp of wine and nod. \u201cYup! He\u2019s cracking me up!\u201d Tiny hands looks wildly around the restaurant but Heckler has fallen smoothly into conversation with his table. I try and catch his eye but he\u2019s a master\u2014until tiny hands stumbles to the bathroom again. Then Heckler starts up again. He\u2019s clearly indicating that he thinks tiny hands is a loser and he can\u2019t understand what I\u2019m doing with him. I shrug. Dude, I don\u2019t have any answers either. More wine.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Outside Some Restaurant<\/em>. I realize tiny hands also has a Tiny Alcohol Tolerance. And boy are those tiny hands moving fast over my ass. The night has turned windy and I decide if we\u2019re going to Lario\u2019s to dance I\u2019ll need my sweater. Tiny hands and I start walking toward our hotel. And his hands feel permanently affixed to my ass, despite my constant protests.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cSeriously, tiny, stop touching me,\u201d I keep saying, and he babbles about being drunk and how that prevents him from listening, apparently. I tell him I don\u2019t care. Lario\u2019s is out of the question as he has become too drunk to function. Damn those light and refreshing vodka tonics!<\/p>\n\n\n\n Then he says to me, \u201cYou got me drunk. You should expect this.\u201d My annoyance quickly transforms to revulsion. I got him drunk? So I could take advantage of him? WTF is he saying?<\/p>\n\n\n\n Quick, think. Okay, we\u2019ll buy liquor. Maybe people from the club at the hotel will drunkenly wander to our patio, and as long as I have people around, he won\u2019t be able to molest me. I drag the Octopus into a liquor store. I\u2019ll put his drunk ass to bed and party with some cool people. He\u2019s all over me\u2014still. \u201cBACK the FUCK OFF,\u201d I snarl, as I\u2019m purchasing a bottle of vodka.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Second Best Hotel in Miami.<\/em> Back in the room, he heads for the sliding glass door as I grab my sweater. He\u2019s smoking a cigarette and apologizing for being so forward. \u201cI jus\u2026I jus\u2026needed a lil\u2019 nicotine,\u201d he slurs. Outside, I sit in the chair opposite him, longing to be on the crowded dance floor. It\u2019s just\u2026a few steps away\u2026<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cYeah, nicotine will fix your problem, all right,\u201d I spit.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI promise to stop hitting on you,\u201d he says, getting to his feet and putting a hand on my shoulder.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cYeah, see, with that hand on my shoulder, you\u2019re already breaking a rule,\u201d I tell him. \u201cTHE ONE THAT SAYS STOP TOUCHING ME.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n It appears my party plan won\u2019t work, as I realize at some point I\u2019ll have to sleep in the same bed with mr. handsy. I toy with the idea of running off the patio, finding a group of people and hanging with them all night. But at some point I have to return to this damn room. Tiny hands is smoking another cigarette and complimenting himself on ashing into the water bottle.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI\u2019m not very comfortable here,\u201d I announce, standing up. \u201cI think it\u2019s time for me to go.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cThas\u2019 ridiculous,\u201d tiny hands exclaims, looking up at me and then quickly back the cigarette to see if he\u2019s succeeded in getting the ash into the bottle again. \u201cWhere you goin\u2019?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cSomewhere else,\u201d I tell him and go quickly into the bathroom, gathering shampoo, conditioner, makeup and toothbrush in an armful. I dump them in my case while he struggles toward the bed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cAwww, come on,\u201d he mutters, patting the bed beside him. \u201cWe\u2019ll jus\u2019 sleep. Really. No touching. Sleep nice.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cNope. Don\u2019t believe you,\u201d I respond brightly, throwing clothes into my bag at lightning speed. Freedom never seemed so sweet.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cPlease? Jus\u2019 siddown. Jus\u2019 sit and talk to me.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI don\u2019t think so,\u201d I reply, and hoist my bag to my shoulder. \u201cI\u2019m outta here. Have a nice night!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n I flee before he can stumble after me and grab yet another body part with his tiny hands. In the lobby, I ask the desk clerk where I can grab a room for the night; she directs me to a hotel down the street. I walk through the streets of Miami with a duffel bag over one shoulder, wondering what the hell he\u2019s doing now. My cell phone rings. Oh. That\u2019s what he\u2019s doing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I ignore his call, check into a new hotel, and have a fabulous Sunday in Miami. Alone.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Once upon a time, in a galaxy far, far away, I met a guy who was only in town for the night. We kind of hit it off and exchanged phone numbers and email addresses. This guy turned out to have too much money and frequent flier miles, so he offered to meet me in … <\/p>\n