I was walking down Santa Monica Blvd with a friend of mine, and out of nowhere a nice slice of sexy beefcake came into view. Drunk off his ass, though, but definitely a cutie, for sure. So Sunday Funday in WeHo had gotten to this poor soul, and he barely had a clue where he was. Literally falling over everywhere and he even almost stumbled out into busy traffic. Like, this dude definitely needed help. Being the nice guy I am, I ran up and balanced him out, and asked him if he knew where he was going. He tried to answer me so many times, but could barely make sense. Not just because he was hammered, but he’s from England. So I had to like rewire my brain to even attempt at understanding his drunken accent. Finally, he speaks American enough for me to grasp where he was going. He said an AirBnb on some street that I already forgot the name of, and, thankfully it was super close by. So, I forced my friend to be nice with me, and away we went, on the wonderful journey to deliver this hot mess home. Along the way, he insisted about 50x upon him not being stupid. Not stupid, just drunkenly shuffling around the streets of WeHo all alone, totally vulnerable. But definitely not stupid! It was kind of cute how intoxicatedly retarded he was, while saying he totally wasn’t. So, we get up to the apartment building, and can’t even get in because he can’t remember jack sh*t, including the code to unlock the apartment’s entrance. I wasn’t just going to leave him there, so we hungout on the sidewalk, listening to him ramble on about his life. What I could make out from the slurred monologue, was that he’s a CEO from Surrey, England. Oh, and, again, he reassured us he is NOT stupid. Thankfully, a couple arrived and opened the doors, and we slid on in behind them. We ascend to his apartment via elevator. Soon as we walk in, the fu*ker faceplants right into the TV screen and crashes down on a pile of shoes. He was just fine, though. Blunt force trauma apparently had no effect on him, thankfully. Anyways, we helped him on up to the couch, and he begged us to hangout for a bit in thanks of getting him home. I wanted to just put him in bed and leave, but my friend insisted upon staying, so we did. We were there for around 45 minutes, and the overly inebriated hunk turned into an even bigger mess. Out of nowhere, he starts bawling tears and grips onto us. We finally get him to calm down enough to tell us what was going on, and he starts thanking us again for our kindness. My friend points out that he should be thanking me, because it was only I who wanted to help him, originally. So the beast hugs me close and sheds some more tears while mumbling ‘thank you’ countless numbers of times. Then, he explains the best that he can, that he appreciates the kindness we showed him. That most people would have just left him on the streets, in danger of countless atrocities. It was super sweet, and he was correct.
Dozens of people walked right passed him as he was falling over, and it was only I who ran after him to check and see if he was okay. I think that’s terrible, to be honest. What if you were in a vulnerable state like that, wouldn’t you want someone to help you, too? So you’re not robbed, raped, beaten even more senseless, etc.? I mean, I had to beg my friend to help this man with me. It shouldn’t be so hard to get people to be kind, you know? Anyhow, back to the gentle giant. After he cried some more, and after I got done watching him drool, I took command and told my friend to help me get him into bed. So we did, but he wanted us to go with him. I wasn’t about to just take advantage of him like that, that’s disgusting. However, my friend tried to persuade me into it! Safe to say, we aren’t much friends anymore. I’d never think it’d be cool to fuck around with someone in a state of susceptibility like that. Plus, you never know if they’re orifices are like an STD virus breeding ground.
So, after having to persuade my not-so-much-friend against raping this man, I left a note saying that we took home to make sure he was safe, signed ‘Chase J.’ and left, locking the door behind us. I kind of wish I left my number, though. Don’t get me wrong, he was a wreck, but a cute wreck. And I’d loved to have been able to see if he wasn’t as stupid as he assured me of. Maybe, one day, I’ll find him a complete mess and have to take him home again. Fingers crossed!
No, no, just kidding, It’d be cool to just find him sober and still go back to his house, if you get me…
