by Tucker Max
I was very thirsty. Lying in the bathtub, looking up at the faucet, I thought of a great idea: I could just put my mouth up to the nozzle. It was like drinking from a fire hose. Water was going in, but that doesn’t mean it was staying in. I was too drunk to notice that I was getting completely soaked by water that was shooting out of my nose. Mark noticed.
Mark “Dude! That’s a good way to get brain damage.”
Tucker “Whaaaat?… could you get me sum food, peas. Der’s brownies in da kitchen.”
Mark walked off and Francis moved me over to my bed, laying me on my stomach. I felt snot coming out of my nose.
Tucker “Francis, will you peas bow my nose?”
Francis “Oh, Jesus.”
Francis got a tissue and held it up to my nose as I blew. I felt much better. Then Mark came in my room and placed the phone up to my ear.
Mark “Here Tucker, it’s your mother. She wants to wish you a happy birthday.”
Tucker “WHAT THE FUCK… FUCKIN’ FUCK MOTHERFUCK!”
I grabbed the phone out of Mark’s hand and threw it across the room. The phone shattered against the wall. Mark’s hysterical laughter was my last clear memory.
The next morning I woke up so dehydrated I couldn’t even blink my eyes. Francis and Mark had placed me on my bed, with my head hanging over the side, a trash can below it. The side of my bed below my mouth was streaked with a black paste. Apparently I ate a brownie, then threw up. The trash can was filled with a watery brown paste, about two inches deep, apparently the gallon or so of water I drank at the end of the night, mixed with what remained of the brownie.
I slept all day long, my only waking hours occupied with drinking water and listening to the countless messages my mother left on my machine, wondering why I called her, cursed, and then hung up.
I eventually got much better at drinking, but the first time I did it legally, I failed.
FUCKED-UP PILLOW TALK, PART 2
Occurred—various 2006–2010
I love women, I love alcohol, and I love combining the two. If God invented anything better than drunk sex with a hot girl, he kept it to himself.
The vast majority of the time, it turns out great. But not always. Sometimes it’s fucked up. I don’t know what it is about sex that provides such a fertile ground for humor, but it seems like a lot of my hookups contain some sort of hilarity. Does this have anything to do with my reckless sexual behavior, combined with the fact that a lot of the women who fuck me are screwed up in one way or another?
Maybe, but we’re going to skip over that reflection; the less I think about it, the easier it is for me to pretend it’s not a problem. I’ve collected some of my favorite little exchanges that aren’t part of any larger stories:
—With some random girl who was really annoying:
Girl “Why don’t you last longer during sex? Ten minutes is not long enough for me.”
Tucker “I don’t understand. I lasted long enough for me to cum. Why would I go any longer?”
Girl “I want to cum too. What about me?”
Tucker “Who?”
Girl “Me.”
Tucker “Who are we talking about here?”
Girl “ME!”
Tucker “Who?”
Girl “I HATE YOU!”
Tucker “Who hates me?”
—We stopped for food on the way home to hook up, but she didn’t like my suggestion:
Girl “NO!”
Tucker “Come on, the company is owned by religious freaks. It’ll be delicious and ironic.”
Girl “Tucker, I will not fellate you as you eat Chick-fil-A!”
—After a seriously drunk night out, I did not wake up with the girl I remember leaving the bar with:
Tucker “What the fuck?”
Girl “What’s wrong?”
Tucker “I didn’t think I had standards, but now I’m thinking that maybe I do. At least the next day, when I’m sober.”
—I generally prefer vaginal sex over anal sex for many reasons, the main one being that it’s way, way better. There have been a few girls who are exceptions:
Tucker “I want to fuck you in the ass again.”
Girl “You and the anal sex. What is it with you?”
Tucker “It’s not me, it’s you. You are the only girl I’m like this with. Your ass is way better than your vagina.”
Girl “I wonder why.”
Tucker “Probably because you’re such a huge whore, your pussy has the consistency of chewed hamburger. Your ass has less miles on it.”
This didn’t even piss her off. She just agreed and bent over. Gotta love honest self-assessment.
—From a girl who fucked me within minutes of meeting me:
Girl “So now that we’ve fucked, I’m thinking maybe we can get to know each other better.”
—With a girl who met me through my website:
Girl “I thought you’d be different in bed.”
Tucker “Different? How?”
Girl “I don’t know. I like to get punched and slapped and stuff. I thought you’d humiliate me more.”
Tucker “Fucking-a. Some people think I’m horrible to women, while the women who want to be treated like shit think I don’t treat them bad enough. What the fuck? I can’t win.”
—This girl was not only very young looking, she walked right into this old joke:
Tucker “Turn over, I want to have anal sex.”
Girl “Isn’t that a bit presumptuous?”
Tucker “That’s an awful big word for a middle schooler to be using.”
—In bed with one of my regular fuck buddies:
Girl “You won’t believe who is now your biggest fan: my 15 year old cousin. He brought your book home from high school and annoyingly quotes it all day long.”
Tucker “Did you tell him I shoot huge loads in you every week?”
Girl “NO! He needs to learn to respect women!”
Tucker “And you think lying to him is the way to teach him?”
—In the middle of sex, almost making me unable to finish:
Girl “OH GOD I WANT YOUR SPUNK IN MY CUNT!!!”
Seriously, who says that?
—From a girl who was less than attractive:
Her “You aren’t going to make me crawl out the window like that fat girl in your book, are you?”
Tucker “No, I live alone. There’s no one for you to embarrass me with.”
Her “Ugh!”
Tucker “If my friends were here, though, you’d be out the window like a chamber pot.”
—From an engaged girl:
Girl “God, I never cum like that with my fiancé. Sometimes I wonder why I’m even marrying him. When can I see you again?”
Tucker “Thanks, just leave the money on the dresser on your way out.”
—Probably not the best way to play it:
Tucker “You’re a squirter? Awesome, I want to see it right now.”
Girl “OK, but you have to make me cum before I can squirt.”
Tucker “You’re barking up the wrong tree, honey.”
—I’ve never been happier I was wearing a condom than at this moment:
Girl “Can you hurry up and finish? My dealer turns off his cell phone at 2am and I want to score again.”
I now ask girls if they are drug addicts before I fuck them, and if they say yes, I don’t fuck them at all. No sex is worth the adrenaline dump I had after she said that.
—With a girl I’d been fucking for a while but wasn’t going anywhere with:
Girl “I want you to date me!”
Tucker “Well, I want to ride a unicorn over a rainbow, but neither of those things is going to happen.”
—With a girl I was fucking in Florida. I told her I wanted her to pay for my vacation to Key West (and go with me):
Girl “I’d rather go somewhere else. Why Key West?”
Tucker “Because there are a lot of whores there who will suck my dick and then spit the splooge in y
our face.”
Girl “WHAT!?!”
—From a random right after mediocre sex:
Her “That kinda sucked.”
Tucker “Yeah, I totally agree. I’m not very attracted to you, so it took major concentration for me to even finish.”
Because of that statement, she fucked at least 20 guys the next week. You’re all welcome.
—One of my regular fuck buddies came over, but this time brought me a mix CD. She made me put it in the stereo, and the first song to come on was the 50 Cent song “Magic Stick.” As she started to pull my pants off:
Girl “This song makes me think of you.”
She was 23 years old and still making mix CDs. I was so creeped out that I almost asked her to leave, but she had brought a full slab of ribs over with her and gave great head.
—After we were finished fucking:
Tucker “That was pretty good. You ready for another round?”
Girl “Jesus has better things in store for me, I just know it.”
Tucker “What?”
Girl “Nothing. Let’s go again.”
That was really funny when it happened, but the more I think about it, the more depressing it gets.
—This girl asked me if I wanted to go to dinner with her and her mom:
Tucker “Does your mom have big tits too?”
Girl “No, asshole! She had breast cancer!”
Tucker “Did she get big implants?”
Girl “SHUT UP.”
Tucker “I’ll go with you to dinner and meet her, but you have to tell your mom to put her prosthetic knockers on. I don’t want to get all freaked out and lose my appetite.”
—From a girl who wanted to come fuck me at 2am but needed a ride:
Girl “I need you to pick me up, otherwise I can’t come over.”
Tucker “I’ll buzz you into my building. That’s the maximum effort I am willing to expend on us having sex.”
—This was after sex, with a girl who graduated from the University of South Florida:
Girl “Do you like sushi?”
Tucker “I’m not eating you out.”
Girl “I don’t get it.”
—This girl recognized me at a bar and was all about it. After we fucked, she dropped this:
Girl “You know, I normally charge for this. A lot.”
Tucker “You’re an escort?”
Girl “Yep. But this is not sex work; being with you is like a vacation.”
Tucker “You’re telling me I’m Disneyland for hookers?”
—I woke up next to a girl I truly did not remember leaving the bar with. Or even meeting:
Tucker “Who are you?”
Random “Uh, you should know me: We had sex.”
Tucker “No, we didn’t.”
Random “Yes, we did!”
Tucker “You slept with me? You must be a whore!”
—At a book signing, this one girl wanted to fuck me and was about as subtle as a head kick. She came over to my hotel, fucked me, and approximately one second after I finished, she rolled over and texted this to her boyfriend:
Girl “I have cum in my pussy. It’s not yours.”
—This one girl was a ridiculous screamer during sex, and it annoyed me:
Tucker “You think you could not yell at the top of your lungs next time?”
Girl “A lot of guys are into that.”
Tucker “I think my name is ‘Tucker,’ not ‘A Lot of Guys.’ ”
—A single mom I was fucking:
MILF “I want you so bad. I want your cum inside me…”
Tucker “Isn’t this how you got your first kid?”
—A random I brought home from a bar:
Girl “You don’t remember my name? Now we can’t have sex, I can only suck your dick.”
Tucker “Start sucking, and I’ll try to remember.”
—I was kinda seeing this one girl for a few weeks. Definitely not exclusive, and we had not even come close to having any sort of relationship talk, but more than a booty call. Like a fuck buddy. I was sore from working out the day before, so I asked for a massage.
Girl “Where did you get these scratches all over your back?”
Tucker “Uh, playing basketball?”
Girl “What kind of basketball do you play that leaves scratches like that?”
Tucker “The kind where my penis goes inside the girls on the other team?”
—After a really good fuck:
Girl “My vagina wants to give you a high five.”
—I just got done fucking this girl, and I had fought back my terrible gas the whole time during sex, but I couldn’t hold it anymore when we were done. So I Dutch-ovened her (farted under the covers, then pulled them over her head so she was stuck with it):
Girl “Tucker, let me out, this is awful!”
Tucker “No, you have to stay in there until you guess what I had for dinner!”
—A girl who ended up fucking me because I told her she had a big nose:
Girl “It’s funny, when you said I needed a nose job… I have been thinking about getting one. But I don’t know… I think it’ll hurt.”
Tucker “It’ll hurt less than being alone.”
Girl “I won’t be alone!”
Tucker “You’re right; your nose will keep you company.”
—A girl who had read my book and fucked me ten minutes after meeting me:
Girl “You aren’t at all what I expected. I thought you would be more suave and debonair.”
She said it to me as we were lying in bed, with my cum in her hair. I guess the suave guys keep the cum on her face.
—After hooking up with a very crunchy girl:
Girl “Let’s play Frisbee golf today!”
Tucker “If you are serious, get out.”
Girl “What’s wrong with Frisbee golf? I think it’s cool.”
Tucker “Delete my number from your phone and never contact me again.”
—I was fucking a girl who lived in the same apartment building as her brother. One morning he saw us in the hallway leaving her place, said hi to her, then went into his apartment:
Girl “Sorry, he’s not very social to guys I bring around.”
Tucker “I wouldn’t want to meet some guy who was using my sister as a cum dumpster either.”
Girl “I’m not a cum dumpster!”
Tucker “I didn’t say you were. Clearly, you’re a beautiful and unique flower. But I am using you as a cum dumpster.”
—This girl was supposed to get to my place at 9pm but didn’t show up until midnight. As “punishment,” I had her fellate me in the foyer of my place. Only afterward did she explain her tardiness:
“I’m so sorry. I would’ve been here sooner, but my cousin died at seven, and you know how family can be.”
—Not really pillow talk, but a series of texts with a girl I was fucking:
Tucker: “I’m going to pull your hair as I fuck you doggy style”
Girl: “can we do it people style tonight? I want to look you in the eyes”
Tucker: “This isn’t going to work out”
—From a girl who gave me head in a car parked behind a bar:
Girl “That was easy. Do you know how hard it is to give a black guy a blowjob?”
—Right after I really cracked a girl hard in the shitter:
Her “When do I get to fuck you in the ass?”
Tucker “Yeah, right! How about right after America elects a black president?”
This was in 2006. At that point, I only knew Barack Obama as the really nice law school professor I used to play basketball against every afternoon in undergrad. If she ever calls me again, I’m obviously not picking up.
—As I was getting started with a girl, I leaned in to kiss her:
Girl “Let’s not kiss.”
Tucker “Why not?”
Girl “I haven’t showered since the last guy.”
I was very cool with this. I’ll take an honest who
re over a lying prude every single time. I’ll make her shower, but still… honesty is good.
—Right before a girl went down on me. And yes, she was serious:
Girl “I usually don’t do this, you know, because I’m a vegan.”
—Same situation, different girl:
Girl “Seriously, don’t cum in my mouth. I only let my boyfriend do that.”
—I was fucking this girl I wasn’t really into, but I was drunk and weak, so I did it anyway. The morning after:
Girl “Did you know you talk in your sleep?”
Tucker “Yeah. Lots of girls have told me that.”
Girl “Oh, that’s just wonderful. Do you even know what you said last night?”
Tucker “No. I was sleeping.”
Girl “You rolled over, mumbled something, and then clearly said, ‘This girl came over last night and we had sex and it was a bad idea,’ and then passed back out.”
Tucker “HAHAHAHAHA. AWESOME! I’m even funny in my sleep!”
—After another fuck session with a regular booty call:
Girl “Every time I get done seeing you, I say to myself, ‘I’m never going to talk to him again,’ yet somehow, I always do it.”
Tucker “Maybe it’s because I’m so awesome.”
Girl “No, that’s not it at all.”
Tucker “Why?”
Girl “I guess I just hate myself.”
THE TUCKERFEST STORY
Occurred—March 2003
In the summer of 2002, I left Boca Raton and moved to Chicago to pursue my calling as a writer. I started off the same way everyone else does; by trying to get published. I took my five best stories at the time—all of which are now in I Hope They Serve Beer In Hell—and sent copies to every single agent, publishing house, magazine, newspaper, and alt weekly I could find an address for. At least a thousand query letters and emails went out.
90% ignored me, and the other 10% rejected me. There were even a few people who took the time to write me personalized rejections, telling me how awful my writing is and how I should do anything but be a writer. The stories that eventually anchored a #1 best-seller and spawned a new literary genre got precisely ZERO interest from the very people whose only job is to discover new talent. And publishers wonder why they’re going bankrupt.