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

After a good ten minutes of no one approaching me, I saw a hottie walk by me in a beautiful Ted Baker shirt. I knew Ted Baker shirts like the back of my hand, and anyone who wears one deserves to be complimented.

"Excuse me," I said as he glanced around, trying to see where the voice was coming from, "I absolutely love your shirt."

"Thank you," he said, finally noticing me. He smiled. "That's sweet."

"Is it Ted Baker?" I asked.

"Yes, yes it is." He was pleased.

"I used to work for him in London." I wasn't planning on lying, but I needed to keep him here long enough to get my rhythm going.

He sat down next to me and we talked for a couple of minutes about what a brilliant designer Ted was, and then he said, "By the way, I'm David, and you are… Beulah? Is that how you pronounce it?" I couldn't let him think that was my name.

"Oh, no, the lady at the front was a little intense. I was just messing with her. I'm Chelsea."

"That's funny," David said. "Beulah's gotta be one of the ugliest names I've ever heard."

David told me he was a real estate attorney and had just moved back from Atlanta to be close to his family. He didn't know that many people and came here to try and reconnect with some friends from high school. Most of his friends were married and he had just ended a two-year relationship with someone because he hated her family and didn't want to expose his future offspring to them.

"I like your scarf," he said. "Not a lot of people can get away with that look."

I got the feeling he meant that no one could get away with the look, and I started laughing. "Point taken," I said and took off my scarf. He quickly wrapped it around his own head. "You're right," I said and pulled it off his head.

This could definitely turn into a relationship. I knew because I didn't want to sleep with him right away, and I've felt that way only a couple of times. He was solid, good-natured, and most of all he was sarcastic.

He had just asked me who I was there with when I saw Nathan out of the corner of my eye.

"Beulah! There you are! Where have you been, my little bean dip? I hope not flirting with other men," he said as he lowered his lips to mine and kissed me on the mouth. He looked at David. "Oh, hey, I know you, right?" he asked.

"Yes, David Stevenson. I'm sorry, what is your name again?"

"Nathan," said Nathan with a venomous look on his face. "I think you were a year or two older."

"Yes, I think you're right," said David. "So how are you doing?"

"So you met my wife?" Nathan said to my horror.

I started to object, but Nathan jumped in, saying, "It's hard for her since she got out of rehab… I mean to be around other drinkers, you understand." He picked up my drink and sniffed it. "Goddamn it, Beulah! No drinking!" he reprimanded, pointing his finger in my face. Then he shook his head, took me by the elbow, and said, "Let's run along now, dear, shall we?" I couldn't even look at David. There was no point in explaining myself out of that one, so I just turned and walked away, as if everything Nathan said had been true.

"Why are you being such a queen?" I asked him. "He was adorable and he was straight."

"He's an asshole. I know him. You don't want anything to do with him. And he used to think I was gay."

"You are gay, assfucker!"

"Shhh," he whispered. "That crazy lady was practically raping me thanks to you, and she works for the school so I couldn't tell her I was gay."

"Oh, I'm so sick of this shit with you. No one cares if you're gay or not already! I need to have a good time too. This is not all about you!" I yelled as we argued in a corner of the patio like an old married couple. Then I left him and walked over to the first table I saw with an available seat.

"Hello," I said to the older black couple who were already sitting there. "Do you mind if I join you?"

"Oh, absolutely, what we need is some young blood around here to liven things up," the woman said with a big warm smile. I liked her instantly.

I used to think I was a black person in a past life because I looooove black people. It's the way they express themselves that draws me to them. White people, for the most part, are too conservative with their emotions and not nearly as effusive as black people when they get excited. If you've ever watched a game show where a white person wins and then, later, a black person wins, you've seen the difference. Black people don't stop and think before they jump up and down in celebration. They are so much more spontaneous and festive, and I've always felt that without that kind of energy, what would be the point of anything.

"Are you and yours having a little tete-a-tete?" the woman asked me, motioning in Nathan's direction. Apparently they had seen our little spat.

"Yes," I said. "He'll be okay, he's just having a little episode. I'm Beulah."

"Well, that's just beautiful. Is it a family name?" she asked me.

"Yes," I said. Technically, it wasn't a lie. Beulah had to be someone's family name. The only Beulah I knew of was Beulah Balbricker, the crazy gym teacher in the movie Porky's who was a complete mess.

Their names were Valerie and Larry William. I loved the way Valerie spoke. Everything she said rolled off her tongue in a soft mellifluous melody. It had a soothing southern sound to it, and she was one of those people who just kept smiling and whose skin was as smooth as a Milk Dud.

They told me their son had gone to this school, and he was now on the road playing professional basketball, so they had come in his honor. Couples who have been together for so long intrigue me. I am genuinely curious to know what was so different thirty years ago that you actually had a desire to wake up next to the same guy every morning for the rest of your life. Watching Larry rub Valerie's hand, I wanted to be in love like them. But as long as Nathan was around, that wouldn't be happening any time that night.

They were in the middle of telling me about how Larry William proposed to Val, when Nathan plopped down in the seat next to me, slammed his drink on the table, and introduced himself. His tie was crooked and he was licking the corner of his mouth, trying to free some hummus. He was clearly drunk, and I had finally had it with his behavior. I didn't know why I was doing him any favors when obviously he had some serious personal issues to deal with.

I decided it was payback time, and it hurt me to have to bring Val and LW into it.

"Hi, honey," I said in the best beaten-wife tone I could muster.

"This is my husband, Nathan," I told Val and LW, "but you wouldn't know it because he refuses to wear his ring."

"That's not true," Nathan said. Nathan meant it wasn't true that we were married, but it came out sounding as if it wasn't true that he actually refuses to wear his ring.

"Junior, that's just plain disrespectful," LW blurted out. I loved that LW had referred to Nathan as Junior. This was turning into a real-live sitcom. Nathan was flustered. I jumped in before he could get his bearings.

"It's just so hard. I mean, we've been married for two whole years and he won't even say my name on our outgoing voice mail message." I started to tear up at the thought of this.

" Chelsea!" Nathan blurted.

" Chelsea? Who the hell is Chelsea?" I asked.

"Sorry… Beulah," he corrected himself. LW and Val looked at each other in horror. It was clear to us all that Nathan was having an affair.

"Son, you need to get your head on straight here," cautioned LW. "Now, I don't mean any disrespect, but you have got one hell of a little lady here, and if you don't wake up and smell the cappuccino, somebody else will."

I thought I had died and gone to heaven. Not only was a big black man defending my honor, he had referred to me as little.