Chelsea Handler - My Horizontal Life - A Collection of One-Night Stands

"I'm not picking up guys for you," I said. "Not for two hundred dollars."

"These guys are all from my prep school, there won't be any dumb ones, I prooooomise," he said.

"You're dumb and you're going to be there," I reminded him.

"There's my girl. You'll do it?"

"Not for two hundred," I told him. "I'll need some other incentive."

"I'll buy you a dress, from wherever you want. "You get it and I'll reimburse you-no more than two hundred and fifty dollars."

"That sounds reasonable," I said in my best impression of a litigator.

I ended up spending less on the dress than the two fifty allotted me by my gay pimp because Barney's was having a 75 percent off sale, so I also bought a head scarf in case it became windy. It was actually a neck scarf, but I had seen J. Lo wrap her head with one and tie it at the nape of her neck, which split the silk into two different sections of flowing magic. The shade of my dress was a hot pink more accurately described as "summer whore" and the head scarf was cream with rings of citrus, lavender, and summer whore as well. I had never worn a head scarf publicly before and was looking forward to finally commanding the respect I deserved.

Nathan picked me up in a town car outside my apartment. He did this when he wanted to impress. He claimed he was just being responsible because we would be drinking, but considering he had been convicted of three separate DUIs, I knew better.

"Look at you!" he squealed as I made my way to the car. "Three words: beau-teee-ful!"

"Thank you," I replied with the cool air of an aristocrat. I wasn't giving in to him that easily; he was going to have to work for my forgiveness.

The Bel-Air Bay Club is located north of Malibu and overlooks the Pacific Ocean. Throughout the course of our ride, when I wasn't staring out the window I had rolled down to aid my scarf in a current of strong wind, I was reminding Nathan of how lucky he was to have a friend like me.

"You better drop this shit when we get to the party. I said I was sorry and sent a letter apologizing to your parents."

"Well, I hope you did. I am not allowed to ever bring anyone back there again!"

"Listen, I'm sorry and I know I drank too much, but let's focus on tonight," he said. "You could meet your future husband here. There are a lot of rich and successful young men who went to this school."

"I'm not that shallow, asshole. I don't need money," I said. "It's way more important for them to be good-looking."

We finally arrived at the front door of the club and the car slowed. "You are my girlfriend unless I tell you otherwise," he reminded me as our driver opened our door.

We checked in at the front and they gave us name tags. I wasn't about to ruin my ensemble with such a cheesy name tag, not to mention the blatant clash of color; the Magic Marker the woman was writing names with was fire engine red. I was already going out on a limb with the head scarf and didn't want anyone to think I was trying to one-up Sarah Jessica Parker.

I told the woman I'd put mine on my purse, and she said she'd prefer if I wore it on my dress. Then I told her I wasn't part of the alumni and that no one would be recognizing me anyway.

"That's not the point, dear. It's just better if everyone's names are displayed so that the lines of communication have already opened."

I thought maybe she was trying to be funny but then realized this was impossible to do without a sense of humor.

"What's your name, dear?" she said.

"Beulah. My name is Beulah," I told her.

Her eyes darted from mine to Nathan's, but he backed me up with a quick nod in her direction.

"How is that spelled?" she asked.

"Just as it sounds, B-e-u-1-a-h," I said. Then she ripped off the adhesive and stuck it right above my right breastplate. "I love your head ornament," she said with a closed smile.

"I love your personality!" I said with wide eyes and an open smile. I had used this look before when a bank teller at Wells Fargo had threatened to put a ten-day hold on a check from my father because my average balance was $3.56.

Nathan grabbed me by the arm and pulled me toward the patio. There were various food stations all around and two bars positioned at either end.

"I'll get us drinks, you find somewhere to sit," I told him. I went to the bar and ordered two Ketel One and sodas.

"Fourteen dollars, please," the bartender said.

"This isn't an open bar?" I asked.

"Only for well drinks," he told me. "The well vodka is Gordon's."

"Who's Gordon?" I asked him.

He half smiled at me, shrugging only one of his shoulders.

"Hold on," I said and ran over to Nathan. "Give me money, it's not an open bar. This party is starting out very badly, Nathan. Not so good, so far!" I intimated that an unhappy Chelsea would lead to unhappy times. He got the message.

After I paid for our drinks, I came back to find Nathan being harassed by a middle-aged white woman wearing a strapless cotton-poly blend that pushed her breasts out like a shelf. Her blond hair was three shades too light and she was holding what I presumed could only be a chardonnay. Women like this love chardonnay, especially while it's still light out. She seemed very taken with Nathan, as many women were; he has a way of making women feel beautiful and sexy, which is why my friends and I liked him so much in the first place.

She kept moving closer to him and I didn't want to steal her moment, so I discreetly took a seat at the table behind where they were standing and observed. Five minutes later, she noticed me and introduced herself. "I'm Lynn," she said, extending her free hand.

"Beulah, how are you?" Nathan said.

"Oh, I'm sorry, are you two…" she pointed back and forth between us.

"Oh no, no, no, he's just my swim instructor, we're very close, but not like that." I winked at her.

Nathan turned his head in order to avoid eye contact with me and with her.

"Are you a professional swimmer?" she asked.

"Synchronized swimming, actually. I'm the only professional synchronizer who can compete without a nose plug," I told her.

"Is that right?" she asked excitedly. "How are you able to do that?"

"It's not easy," I told her. "I've trained myself to hold my breath underwater as well as above water for close to six minutes at a time. Each competition is five minutes." I, of course, didn't have the faintest idea if this was true, but five minutes sounded like a reasonable time to be able to hold your breath. Why anyone needed to hold her breath above water was beyond me, but when I make things up, I rarely have a filter.

She had a confused look on her face and opened her mouth to say something when I jumped in.

"There's a good chance I'll be competing in Athens in 2004."

Nathan coughed loudly and sat down, "Actually-"

I interrupted. "He's so superstitious, he doesn't like me to talk about the Olympics before the trials, he thinks I'll jinx myself," I said dismissively. "I keep telling him God gave me a talent and there's nothing to jinx about that."

"Amen!" she said.

"Hallelujah!" I responded.

She turned to Nathan and put her hand on his arm. "A swim coach. You must be in fantastic shape!" Nathan smiled sheepishly as I got up to excuse myself.

"I'm going to see if I can't find a fish in this big swimming pool. You kids get to know each other." Nathan averted his eyes and looked down at his hands in his lap. I winked at the woman and mouthed, "He's single!"

I wandered over into another room dominated by a massive chandelier. The club was huge and extravagant, with four separate patios. I love places that are spread out like that; this way once you embarrass yourself in one area, another forum is just a hop, skip, and jump away.

This being an all-boys school, there were guaranteed to be dozens of men to harass. I sauntered over to the sushi bar, filled my plate, and went to sit by a window all by my lonesome. I put on a sad, wounded, dovelike expression to let any potential male suitors know I was available and, more important, vulnerable.