#Question: What do a mentalist, the grotto at the Playboy Mansion, and an eyes wide shut sex party have in common?

Me, and this was only Thursday through Saturday night.

Maestro ...

<tangent> You freaky little bastards, btw. I have NEVER received so many texts, tweets, emails, and Facebook notifications wondering what happened last night. Kinky fuckers ... my kinda people.

</tangent>

A few months back I was on Bumble (new dating app obsession), and came across a familiar face ...

The motherfucking mentalist, from Talk Nerdy.

<tangent> Long story short, he was a guy that I dated (and lived with) who cheated on me with literally hundreds of women (all while he was on tour). He is in fact an actual mentalist (which is more smoke in mirrors) - and he's very very successful with it. I had no idea he was cheating, obvi, and it wasn't until the two girls that lived in the living room (inside the one bedroom apartment) actually sat me down and told me everything.

That story changed not only Talk Nerdy, but my writing style in general. I was almost done the 103 dates in 9 months, and knew I was still not being truly honest with myself and honest with my emotions. I was so ashamed that I didn't see any of the signs, and ashamed that "something like this could happen to me." (Which is all just ego bullshit, but it was there.)

Either way, this was the summer of 09 (I started Talk Nerdy November 3, 2009) and I told him OVER AND OVER how HUGGEEE social was going to become, and that he needed to start creating these channels and marketing himself in social.

"I'm a mentalist, he piped up. I have to keep an air of mystery."

You are HUGELY going to miss the boat, I pressed. (Obviously I had no idea "how big" social would become, but I was so pissed off after the break up that I said fuck him and fuck you - I'll show you!! I'll just do this shit myself!! My worst case scenario is that I'd work towards building a portfolio, and maybe get a job out of it. That was an unexpected rabbit hole.

</tangent>

Either way, we matched on Bumble, and that's the app where the woman has to message first.

Aren't you married or something? I said wondering if anything has actually changed.

No, he said, but I knew we would match!!

I was so angry writing those posts years ago, that I wanted blood and revenge. Then, here I was wondering why I was even wasting my energy typing to him. He was a teacher, and (if it does better than just a pilot) he also might make me a really rich bitch. It seemed strange to think of thanking the guy who broke your heart and cheated on you - but why the heck not?!

Please, let me buy you a drink.

I thought about it, and said fuck it. Just do it.

He told me he would be gone for a bit, but I messaged him a few weeks back and knew he was coming back into town on the 3rd. I messaged that afternoon asking to meet up for that drink. He happened to be free, so I grabbed a LYFT to head over to Santa Monica (where he was staying).

On the way over, I had a great chat with the driver (takes about an hour to get to Santa Monica from where I live). Are you meeting someone for business or pleasure? he asked.

Neither, I said. I'm meeting a guy who broke my heart years ago, but gave me the inspiration to start my (now) very successful first business.

He fully turned around in his seat (I always sit in the back), and said, "you got cheated on? Is he a fucking idiot?"

I laughed saying I wasn't fishing for a compliment, but thank you. People are people, and shit happens.

I then arrive at the place we arranged to meet, and I laughed as I got carded at the door. Few days away from being 31 and I still get carded. Damn it feels good to be a gangster!

I see him, and my first thought was what the fuck were you thinking Friel?

See, the mentalist and I met back in 07 on a Super Shuttle en route to the airport. He "read" my mind, and I was working for a charity event in NYC that I wanted to hire him for. He wound up being WAY out of our budget, so we just friended each other in Myspace and kept in touch.

I'll keep our conversations to myself, but the whole time I just kept staring at him thinking I really don't know anything about him. I remember his mom was still alive, but did he have siblings? Like super super basic questions I discovered I knew nothing about. Like ...

What's his favorite drink?

He had five answers all based in different scenarios.

No, but what is your go-to?

He couldn't answer that question for me.

WHO IS THIS GUY?!?! I kept wondering.

Honor, loyal, and integrity aren't just words to me - they're everything, and this guy is SO full of shit!!

This feels like a first date, he said as I shot him back a blank look.

He at one point did apologize to me, as he started tearing up. His emotions weren't congruent with his body language so it literally rang in my ears like nails on a chalkboard. One and one stopped equaling two.

That was a really strange time for me, he admitted. I had just moved to LA, and was a kid in a candy store ... 

I cut him off, whom got caught with his hand in the cookie jar?

I said, I really don't want to talk about it. I wrote about it all, and have been over this for years.

By the end of the night, I say goodbye and thank you for the food and time.

I give him a hug, and even his hug felt fake.

Give me an actual hug, I said pushing.

He does, as the LYFT driver pulls up.

Thanks, I said. Take care.

I got in the LYFT, and the driver says awww look at that. True love, he said.

I laughed saying that was never love, it was lust. Lesson learned.

Then, the next night, I had another Bumble date with a guy that I used to hang out with at the Playboy Mansion.

<tangent> I was the only one of my friends that ever got invited to the parties, so I always went by myself and made new friends. This guy was in the group that I would literally see every party. </tangent>

We're already friends on Facebook so I shot him a message asking what he was doing Friday night. Let's do happy hour!

I'm in, he messaged back.

See, he lives by the beach which is the LA social equivalent of living in Australia. It was the only reason why we never really hung out except for the mansion. Great great guy but geographically very undesirable.

I then grabbed a LYFT going back to Venice/ Santa Monica-ish and on the way heard a great story from the driver on how he was friends back in the day with Tupac.

He started selling drugs when he was 12, was shot at 16 (by his own admission somehow), managed to finish high school, moved to Chicago and is now just back.

For his 14th birthday the gang he was in brought him Tupac (as he was good friends with the driver's mentor).

Do you think he's still alive? I ask.

I really have no idea, he said.

Crazy awesome story, as again, it's such a long drive and people for some reason fucking love to tell me really random things. I don't even ask!!

I also got a text from the Mentalist shortly before asking if he could see me again. Funny you ask, I text saying I am on my way back to the beach. You can meet up before I meet with my friend, but other than that I'm busy.

Done, he texted.

I get out of the car, and find the Mentalist.

I just had an amazing conversation with a guy that was friends with Tupac.

Of course you did, he said. I am so glad nothing has changed with you, Jen. Who is this person you're meeting?

Oh, my friend from the Playboy Mansion. The last time we hung out we were skinny dipping in the grotto.

Do you even hear the words that come out of your mouth? he asked.

Nope, I said. I'm just living my life - it just "happens" to get stranger and stranger every day.

My friend then arrived, and the three of us chatted for a few hours. Then, the mentalist had to leave to go to a dinner and my buddy and I caught up.

Sometime way past my bedtime, we agreed to go somewhere else.

Let me grab something from my car, he said as he walked through the parking lot.

Sure, I said. I'll be here (standing outside freezing my ass off because I've been living on an island for almost 3 years and this whole concept of weather below 70 is foreign).

A few moments later, the valet sees me shivering, and says, I hate to tell you this but your friend left.

That fucker ghosted? I said laughing.

No worries, man. I'm tired anyway.

I went home, and woke up to an email that I was confirmed for the sex party tonight.

SHUT.THE.FUCK.UP. I thought getting out of bed.

<tangent> Back in August, I was on Tinder and swiped right on this guy whom happened to have two profiles. (Obvi I didn't see that they were connected.) One was his regular profile, and the other was a request for some kink in the form of a threesome.

Sure, I thought. I'd be game.

We then started messaging, and my brain automatically went to a threesome meaning two girls and a guy - this was not that.

Two dudes, one Friel.

I wasn't sure how cool I was with that. 

They are both very professionals, and both can't come out of the closet without it hurting their careers.

That's so sad, I thought. I can't STAND how hypocritical this society can be. Who cares who you sleep with? UGH! 2015 people!!!

Either way, they meet at this penthouse apartment in WeHo with a pool on Tuesdays at 11am.

I need to be wined and dined, I texted back. I also work - a lot. I can't just take off my afternoon on a Tuesday to fuck two dudes. Never going to happen.

We wound up never connecting, but one of the guys said one day over text that he needed my email address. There was a group he wanted to add me to.

Alrite, I texted and received an email from a "host" a handful of hours later.

I had to submit photos, and go through a series of questions so they could understand my motives.

Out of respect, I won't post the rules, but one of them was that this was like Fight Club. It doesn't exist. You are to enter the private venue like you are going to your friend's house on a Saturday night. You don't have to use your real name, everyone is vetted through this "host."

I submitted for a party a couple of weeks back (as each time there is an event you have to submit recent photos), and never heard anything. I was genuinely shocked to hear that I had been accepted and that there were only going to be eight other people.

I've gone to a bunch of sex clubs and what not during Talk Nerdy days, but was always a fly on the wall. I never participated, I was just REALLY FUCKING CURIOUS (no pun intended) on what actually happened.

On the flip side of things, the people that I have seen go "all out" are people I would have rather seen with their clothes on.

Not hot, at all.

Open mind Friel. Keep an open mind, I thought.

</tangent>

I texted my girlfriend (whom I was going to go dancing with), and said, remember that sex club I told you about? Well, I just got an invite for a party tonight.

SHUT UPPPPPP!!! she texted back. Are you going to go??

Of course, I texted. I am SO ready to get my freak on.

I then got an email confirming the time and address. It wasn't until midnight. I can't stay home and go out that late. I'll 100% fall asleep (old lady thing).

Let's meet up beforehand, texted my friend, saying we could get free drinks at her friend's bar in Beverly Hills.

DONNEEEE!! I am going to need a lot of those to actually go through with this.

Shortly before we met up, I got an email with the "rules" for the evening ...

I actually started shaking when I read that. I don't think I had fully processed exactly what I was getting myself into (that whole say yes to everything mentality I take very seriously).

I show Carolyn (gf I was meeting) the email when she arrived.

SHUT UPPPPP JEN!!! she said in complete disbelief.

I HAD NO IDEA I WAS GOING TO HAVE TO PARTICIPATE!! I said genuinely scared.

Her friend was laughing the whole time hearing the full story. I cannot WAIT to read this. Carolyn, you HAVE TO tell me every detail the second you hear it, he said laughing.

From gimlets to a glass of wine, I was feeling pretty toasty and less than an hour away from my uh, orgy.

You need to do a shot, says her friend.

I am NOT a shot person.

He then ordered me a tequila shot. I was only able to do half of it, and he took the other half.

I want to be buzzed, not black out. THIS IS THE ONE TIME THAT I HAVE TO KEEP MY SENSES ALERT!!!

I look down and it is now 11:20 aka my time to leave.

I grab another LYFT (fortunately the driver didn't ask where I was going. Obvi I would have told him and that might have gotten weird) and head over to the address. I call saying that I am outside.

You're the first one here, he says back.

Overachiever line one, I thought.

He opens the gate and HOLY SHIT he is fucking hot.

Like - WOW.

THAT! I said.

Mama wants to fuck the shit out of THAT.

Which surprised me. I don't normally go for the "hot guy." I like the weirdo in the corner with the interesting story. Since this was a structured experience, I turned into a carnal animal after one thing and one thing only ...

We sit and chat for about ten minutes before the next person arrives.

He could tell how nervous I was, so he attempted to calm me down.

You don't have to do anything you don't want to do - you know that right?

Absolutely, I said. I get it, I ... yeah ... never done anything like this before.

I then started blabbing some random nervous energy bullshit and THANK GOD he got a notification that the next person was there.

He's so hot, I thought checking out his ass as he walked away.

I was then left alone in this gorgeous man's penthouse while he went to greet the next guests.

I was super impressed. Gorgeous, gorgeous, place. Historical building. Candles lit.

I could totally be friends with this guy, I thought. It felt very "home-y." Not pretentious or like a porno set.

The next girl arrives followed by another guy.

Everyone is hot.

Holy shit, I am totally going to fuck these people, I thought.

I then thought about orgy mechanics. What the hell happens with condoms? If you're swapping partners, presumably you would have to then change the condom right?  I can and can't believe that I've never had to think about this before.

We then talked about our experiences with the club, and lives in general. The girl then uncrossed her legs and I couldn't help but notice she was wearing a red thong.

TWINSIES!!! I said to myself.

<tangent> This is where men and women are so different. In my brain I'm like aww we're both wearing black dresses and red thongs. How cute!! In a dudes brain the color red will catch his eye and then just want to know what is underneath. </tangent>

I shockingly started to feel really comfortable.

If this is just a foursome, I'd be really really happy.

Then, he got a call that there was another girl here.

Wow, alrite I thought. Anything like the others, and we're in good company. Thankfully it wasn't another dude. Figuring out the mechanics of what could go where was making me exhausted.

The new girl arrives, and the energy IMMEDIATELY changed.

She was fugly dude. Like fugly fugly.

I normally don't throw people under the bus like that, but we were all there for one reason and one reason only.

The host, and the original other girl peeled off to another part of the house, and there I was listening to this troll talk about the Dandy Warhols and how she left the concert early to come here.

This better be worth it! she said proudly.

The other guy was done at that point and said, looks like "those two" (referencing the host and other girl) hit it off. Should we go?

Sure, I said getting up and putting my coat on.

I was just over it at that point. Any ounce of turn on was extinguished, and I was starting to sober up and face the reality that this was a failed orgy.

I didn't even say goodbye, I just ghosted and caught a LYFT home.

I need to stop at the liquor store, I said to the driver. I have had a really weird night.

Oh yeah, he said turning down the radio.

I just had a failed orgy.

He turns around LAUUGHHIIINNNGGGG so hard.

Please tell me you are kidding.

Oh very much not, I sharply said back. I'm sobering up now, and need to have a glass of wine to forget this happened.

I then got a notification that I had a new email, and it was from the guy from the party (not the host). Can I have your number? he messaged.

Sure! I said.

We began texting ...

I then came home and cuddled with Buster. (See, I did get to sleep with an animal that night.)

At 8am this morning, I got more texts and an email from Jeff asking what kind of kink I am into.

I am not a morning person, and my brain wasn't even processing at that point so I just ignored it.

All in all would I do it again? Maybe one more time to try. You HAVE TO have really fucking hot people in this or it will never work. Also, of the eight confirmed only five actually showed up? That's a fail to me.

I've been texting the host this morning, and he said it was a bust on his end and that he won't do it again.

Come to think of it, I can organize a better/hotter club than this. Maybe I will ...