I tried to hit on a beautiful woman, and she had me arrested. At the station, the cop asked me, “What exactly did you do to her?” I answered honestly. “I asked for her number. She ignored me. I gave my butt a pat and walked away.” The words were barely out of my mouth when the beautiful woman, who had been silent until now, leaped to her feet and pointed a finger at me. “You son of a bitch, you patted my ass!” she shrieked. “Officer! He slapped my ass! And he squeezed it! A few times! You have to help me!” 1 I was at a bar when I saw her in the booth across from me and fell instantly in love. My heart hammered against my ribs. I threw back two shots of whiskey for courage. Just as I stood up, ready to make my move, a voice echoed in my head. The brave step I’d just taken, I silently took back. My buddy, seeing me sit back down, was baffled. “What? You’re over her in five minutes?” I sighed. “Nah, man. I just remembered… I’m not divorced yet.” He rolled his eyes. “I don’t get you. You’re too damn honest. You said you’d be faithful, and you actually are?” he scoffed. “For all you know, that woman’s got a whole secret family on the side. Besides, you’re divorcing her tomorrow. You’re just getting a number, not proposing. She’ll never know. It’s fine.” I hesitated. “Just go for it, dude,” he urged. “You look sharp tonight. Sharp enough to make a nun question her vows. Don’t let it go to waste.” He had a point. Convinced, I grabbed my phone and stumbled over to her table. Before my brain could catch up and stop me, I blurted out, “Hi, could I… could I get your number?” She stopped swirling the drink in her hand. For a long moment, there was silence. Then, she reached into her purse and pulled out two marriage certificates. She lifted her chin, her expression a strange mix of pride and detached coldness. “Married.” I was floored. Seriously? Who the hell comes to a singles’ night at a bar when they’re married? Who the hell carries their marriage certificates around with them? Who the hell uses their marriage certificates to ward off unwanted advances at a bar? Seeing my stunned silence, she must have thought I didn’t believe her. She opened one of the certificates, showing it to me under the dim bar lights. Her movements were dramatic, almost like she was showing off. “See? It’s got the official seal. 100% legit. We’ve been married for seven years.” Oh. Literally no one cares. I pursed my lips and turned to leave. 2 When I got back to our booth, my buddy was gone. There was no one to share my moment of utter humiliation with. I grabbed the rest of the liquor on the table and downed it, trying to numb the sting of rejection. But the more I drank, the fuzzier my head got. I touched my cheek. It was burning up. Crap. I was drunk. I have a tendency to run my mouth when I’m drunk, and to avoid another soul-crushingly embarrassing incident, my only thought was to get home. Fast. I called my buddy. No answer. I looked down at the sofa. Of course. His phone was in his jacket, and his jacket was right next to me. I waited a bit longer, but he didn’t come back. I had no choice but to go find him. I pushed myself up and staggered through the maze of tables, plunging into the crowd. The bar was dark, and my slight nearsightedness, amplified by the alcohol, made it impossible to recognize faces. I could only look for his clothes. After weaving through half the bar, I finally spotted his back on the terrace. White shirt, black pants. That was him. As I got closer, I saw he was facing away from me, a cigarette between his fingers, head slightly bowed. He looked completely absorbed, like he was trying to pull off some kind of brooding, handsome poet vibe. It was so not him. Trying to look all deep and mysterious without me, huh? I let out a low snort. A wicked idea sparked in my mind. My eyes traveled down his back, stopping when they reached his ass. I grinned. I strode forward, wound up, and with all my might, I brought my hand down flat on his perfectly round, firm-looking butt. SMACK! The sound was crisp and loud. He froze, his whole body tensing up from the shock, his ass muscles clenching tight. Mission accomplished. My hand was still pressed against him. The texture was soft and springy, with just a hint of startled rigidity. Well, I’d already slapped it. It felt so nice… one little squeeze couldn't hurt, right? I couldn’t resist. I gave it a couple of squeezes. As I did, I looked up with a goofy grin. “Feel good?” “Are you sick?” My voice and a voice that was definitely not my buddy’s rang out at the same time. But even faster than the voice was the face that loomed into view—a beautiful, furious face. Her brows were knitted together, her eyes blazing with a rage she was barely containing. I knew that face. It was the woman who had just shut me down with her marriage certificate. Shit. Wrong person. I yanked my hand back and hid it behind me like a guilty child. She turned to face me fully, dropped her cigarette, and ground it out with her shoe. She didn't say a word. She just took a long step toward me. I instinctively took two steps back. “I’m so sorry,” I stammered. “I… I thought you were someone else. I didn’t mean to… your, uh, your ass is just so… springy…” Her expression turned to ice. My drunk brain, now under the pressure of her murderous glare, was short-circuiting. I couldn’t form a single normal sentence. Her chest heaved with fury. She clutched her offended butt, the tips of her ears turning a deep, telltale red. “You again?” she seethed. “Didn’t I tell you I was married? Harassing a married woman… have you no shame? Do you not understand English? Or did you not get a good enough look at the certificate? You want to see it again?” She started digging in her purse for the certificates again. I waved my hands frantically. “No, no, no, that’s okay! I wish you and your husband a long and happy life together. I’ll just be going…” “Wait,” she snapped, cutting me off. “You’re not going anywhere.” I looked up. Her expression was dead serious, but there was a flicker of desperation in her eyes, a tremor of panic in her voice. “My marriage certificates are gone.” 3 She frantically patted down her pockets and rummaged through her purse, her panic growing more visible by the second. Finding nothing, she grabbed my arm. “When you slapped me… did you steal them then? I swear they were in my purse when I grabbed my cigarettes! Give them back! They’re really important to me!” I panicked too. Because I honestly hadn't taken them. I held up my empty hands. “No, miss, I swear, I didn’t take them!” I was wearing a jacket with shallow pockets; there was nowhere to hide them. She was clearly past the point of believing me. “You’ve been trouble since the moment you walked up to me. You don’t look like a good person. Hand them over now, before I call the police.” “I really don’t have them…” “I’m counting to three. And I really don’t want to get physical with you.” I was getting desperate. I wanted to suggest we check the security cameras, but the alcohol had other plans for my mouth. “I’d only be interested in stealing them if you had a Black Card tucked inside,” I slurred. “It’s not like you’re the only one with a marriage certificate.” I’m married too, you know! Who gives a damn about yours? A cold, humorless smile spread across her face. It was the smile of someone who had just been pushed too far. “How did you know there was a Black Card inside?” she asked, her voice dangerously soft. “So you did take it. And now you’re denying it. Fine. Fine.” She pulled out her phone and dialed 911. “That card was for my husband. I have to give it to him tomorrow. I can’t face him without it.” “Hey! You can’t just call the cops!” I lunged for her phone, but she sidestepped me. My momentum carried me forward, and I lost my footing, crashing to the ground. My face scraped against the rough concrete, and a sharp pain shot through my body. By the time the fog of drunkenness and pain cleared, I was in a police station. 4 In the mediation room, a police officer opened his notebook. “Mr. Evans,” he said, getting straight to the point. “What exactly did you do to her?” I’ve always been terrified of cops. My heart started pounding. I was in deep trouble. I quickly replayed the events in my head, reminding myself to keep my mouth shut about the stupid, embarrassing parts. I rubbed my throbbing head, trying to fight back the waves of nausea. “Well… I asked for her number. She ignored me. I gave my butt a pat and walked away.” Seemed accurate enough. I figured bringing up the whole mistaken-ass-slapping incident would be humiliating for me and inappropriate for a married woman like her, so I glossed over it. But the moment the words were out, the beautiful woman, who had been sitting silently beside me, shot to her feet. “You son of a bitch, that was my ass you patted!” she shrieked, pointing at me. “Officer! He patted my ass! And he squeezed it! A few times! You have to do something!” I just sat there, speechless. The officer gently pushed her pointing hand down. “Ms. Wright, please, calm down.” She shook him off, her voice getting louder. “I can’t calm down! I’m a married woman! My husband has never even touched my ass, and this guy gets to first? My chastity is ruined! And my marriage certificates are gone! They’re the most important things I own!” A small crowd of onlookers had gathered outside the door, whispering among themselves. “She’s this worked up over a marriage certificate? Must really love her husband.” “Loves her husband but goes to a bar? Sure.” “Didn’t she say a Black Card was missing too? Probably more worried about that.” “I don’t know, she keeps talking about the certificates.” “She must love him. Who else carries them around all the time?” “What would that guy want with her marriage certificate, anyway?” “Jealousy, probably. Wants to tear them up so he can make a move.” The buzzing voices were driving me crazy. I’d had enough. “It’s just a marriage certificate!” I snapped. “You lose it, you get a new one! What’s the big deal? You acting like you need it to get a divorce tomorrow or something?” The woman froze. She stared at me. “How did you know I’m getting a divorce tomorrow?” I froze. The onlookers froze.
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