Hey! We're not virgins!

Few things excite me more than New Year's Eve. It's one of those times when I just get to let loose, without fear of losing my job because the people I work with all have kids and wives and go to bed at 10PM.

They got old. I got bold.

Most people watch the New York City party and think, "Gee, I should leave the house." Not me, my own balls were dropping to greet the new year. But there was a dilemma. Two women, with the same name, were both hitting on me. For roughly three hours before midnight, I struggled to figure out should I throw out the threesome idea, or pick one and hope the other didn't know where I lived.

Apparently the Leslies (their names were Leslie, did I not mention this?) didn't like each other. Threesome, abort mission. So I had to pick one. Who would be the Highlander of the Leslies? Let's look at the stats for both.

LESLIE #1: Blonde, funny, a little chubby. Not like The Mindy Project chubby, but getting close. She reminded me of a young Amy Schumer.

LESLIE #2: Skinny, shy, brunette. Had a lazy right eye. She was checking me out, and the lamp to the right.

The debate was long, and often hard. Plus I was drunk. Who doesn't drink on NYE? Communists, that's who.

At the end of the night, the choice was obvious. Who did I pick? Leslie #2. I don't bone fat chicks.

But something happened after the ball dropped. Maybe a little humanity in me was restored. Maybe I sobered up. Maybe I had whiskey ♥♥♥♥. I didn't sleep with her. Not even a little bit. Not even just the tip, which I often suggest as a barter between full-out anal rapeage and boring missionary style. I didn't do any of it.

Maybe it was the eyeball, staring longingly at my bedroom rug. I don't know. But what I do know is that I took the high road this New Years Eve and didn't sleep with the women I brought back to my plush condo.

I did fist her for four hours. What do you expect, I'm only human.