Here’s another blackout story. Where the fuck do I begin? The most important question is, how much do I fucking remember?

It was a nice Saturday evening. I went to see my French DJ friend from Paris, Aurelie. She was spinning tables at Output in Brooklyn. I went there to see her and also the fact that it was her last night here in New York City. She needs to go back to her own reality in France. This is what I love about New York, I continue to establish friendships with people from around the world. After she finished playing, we went to another little neighborhood of Bushwick, also in Brooklyn. We revisited our favorite spot, Happy Fun Hideaway. It’s more of like a pansexual bar where anything goes. Whether your straight, gay, bisexual or undeclared, there will be always be someone for everyone. I suppose I can say that from experience. LMFAO!!

So the minute we arrived at the Happy Fun Hideaway, we immediately did our tequila shots, whiskey shots, cans of PBR, glasses of whiskey and ginger. And after noticing that I was liquored up, I invited Aurelie’s boyfriend, Damien outside to smoke cigarettes. Since Aurelie is like an adopted sister to me, I made some pretty defensive/overprotective remarks.

“Can I ask you a question?” I asked Damien.
“Sure” He replied.
“Are you in love right now?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Good! You see Aurelie is like my sister, I’ve seen her hurt by someone before and I don’t ever want to see her hurt again.”
“To hurt her is the last thing that I want to do.”
“Very good, I hope so!”

Damien decided to return inside while I stayed in the patio finishing my cigarette. While I was smoking, I noticed an odd couple staring at me from the corner, a lesbian girl who looks like Kristin Stewart and gay guy that looks like Ronan Keating. I put out my cigarette and approached them.

“For some reason, you two remind me of a rendezvous!” I exclaimed.

They both grinned.

“Really?” Kristin Stewart asked me.
“Yeah, it’s a compliment by the way.”
“So where did you meet this similar couple that you had a rendezvous with?” Ronan Keating asked me.
“Oh I think it was at a Russian Bar somewhere in East Village.” I replied.
“Was it any good?” Kristin Stewart asked me.
“Yeah, it wasn’t bad. I had five orgasms in a row. It was amazing!”

They both looked at each other and smiled. Like a couple of sexual freaks planning a tasteful menage-a-trois. Then suddenly, Damien came out and called me.

“Lorenzo! Aurelie wants to see you!” Damien yelled.
“I will be there in a minute!” I responded.

I never got the chance to get their names but that could’ve been a meaningful threesome. I kissed them both in the lips before I went inside and my self-esteem was skyhigh! I came back inside the bar and joined back Aurelie and Damien. The three of us did more shots and drank screw drivers, since Aurelie has a flight back to France the next day, they needed to leave. So I had another round of shots with them, this time it’s vodka, then I was all by myself at that bar. That was my last memory. The next day, I woke up in someone’s apartment a few blocks away from the bar. I don’t remember shit of what happened. But I like the sight of the person I woke next to, a naked girl, about age twenty four, with long blonde wavy hair. She woke up too. She looked like Tara fucking Reid. The worst part is, I don’t remember meeting her, I don’t remember getting into her apartment. Fuck! I had brain damage AKA blackout!

“Good morning cutie!” She said
“Hi! Please don’t hate me but I don’t remember anything, not even your name…” I replied.
“That’s okay, my name is Cassie and your name is Lorenzo. You approached me at the bar and recited some of the poetry that you wrote and you’re also a novelist trying to find an agent.”
“I’m sorry again Cassie, I don’t mean to be a dick. I don’t usually blackout but last night felt like I had brain damage.”
“Hey, don’t be too hard on yourself. I like your poetry, not too many guys write it these days..”
“Thanks! I better go.”
“Oh relax, stay up for a little bit and then we’ll talk about your finished novel.”
“My finished novel?”
“Yeah, you emailed it to me last night after you pitched it. Oh I’m sorry I forgot you had a brain damage and can’t remember anything!”
“Oh god, I’m sorry..”
“Stop being sorry! Did it ever occur to you why you emailed me your manuscript in the first place?”
“Umm, I’m trying to get into your pants?”
“I’m an agent assistant at ICM Partners, a talent agency that represents…”
“Yes, I know ICM Partners, I used to live in L.A. and I pitched a screenplay to them but they turned it down.”
“Don’t worry, I like the premise your novel. If I put my faith and believe in it, it could also cement my career as a full blown talent agent.”
“Do you believe in my work?”
“I wouldn’t bring it up if I think that it’s shit, does it make any sense?”
“Yes, it makes perfect sense. I’m just amused by myself that I don’t remember pitching it.”
“Well, I believe in it. If your book gets published, it could also open doors for film studios in Hollywood to buy the film rights and turn it into a movie. So it will benefit both of us.”
“That sounds very good! I’m actually happy to hear that but I don’t know how to express it!”
“You can give me a quickie before you leave..”
“Of course I will!”

So I gave her the quickie (by going down on her), and she enjoyed it. We exchanged numbers and then I left her apartment. I was still bewildered that I managed to pitch my book to someone despite the fact that I was piss drunk. But at the same time, I was also impressed by myself. The following week Cassie secured me a meeting at the ICM Partners office on Fifth Avenue in Manhattan. They love the premise of my the novel that I pitched to Cassie – about the teenage son of a priest and a prostitute who ran away from home and living vicariously in Berlin. I also secured myself an agent, and that was none other than Cassie. Now the next step, is to publish the novel itself. They’re hitting up their contacts here in New York and also in Los Angeles, and Cassie advised me to stay still because my success is in the pipeline. That alone re-established my belief and faith in myself. Because for some reason, I’ve been hating myself for quite some time and lost every fragment of belief or faith. But this time, all that changed. I no longer feel like a fucking failure. Maybe my drunken behavior and “brain damage” incident was a blessing in disguise. I never expected it. One thing’s pretty clear, I’m headed for another major change. After all, my life has always been eventful. I told myself the same thing that I would tell my younger self if I could travel back in time, “Fasten your seat belt and enjoy the ride!”. Because I refuse to change anything in the past and have absolutely no regrets!