Is there anything sadder than seeing the promise of a budding romantic relationship crushed by the cruel hand of a jaded interloper? No. Unless that cruel hand takes the simian shape of legendary porn star (and auto-fellatio enthusiast) Ron Jerermy, in which case it’s both sadder and funnier!
The other evening we were enjoying some al fresco cocktails on the patio of the Saddle Ranch Steakhouse, the Sunset Strip’s answer to TGIFriday’s, when we spied a potential paramour plying a busty blonde with shots, snacks, and even a promotional Saddle Ranch baby-T. As we edged closer, we managed to suss out the salient details of the date-in-progress: They’d met on MySpace, exchanged snapshots, and he’d lured her here to the cheap end of the Strip in an attempt to move a little further up on her Top Eight Friends list. Like maybe into her Top Eight Fuck Buddies list. Not that she looked like that kind of girl, but you know how guys are.
The MySpace Romeo looked like he was well on his way to at least getting a handjob when all of a sudden Ron Jeremy appears tableside. Ron introduced himself by slapping a meaty paw on the girl’s shoulder and saying, “Hey, wanna go have a drink?” The MySpace girl told Ron to hang on a second, and he went to lurk around the edge of the patio while she explained to her disappointed date that she was taking a time-out with Ron. “We’re just gonna have a drink at the Rainbow,” she said. “We’ll be back in ten minutes.” And just like that, she was off.
For the next 30, 60, 90 minutes, poor MySpace guy sat there, alone, nursing his mojito and wondering what happened to his date. And his cajones. Just as we figured he was going to give up on her for good, she suddenly returned – looking like she’d taken Ron up on that drink he promised, plus a few dozen more drinks and an exceptionally sweaty round of back-alley sex. An hour and a half before, she’d been all put together, and now here she was trying to comb her hair with her hands, gobs of Ron Jeremy’s semen hanging out of her hair like Silly String, and big black smudge marks where her mascara had been. She looked like a racoon with a face full of whipped cream. Trooper that he was, the MySpace guy tried to put that little interlude behind them and forge ahead with the date, but when Ron Jeremy re-appeared on the patio and started loudly telling a large group of friends that he’d just had the best sex ever behind the dumpster, it was just too much to bear. For us, not him. We got up and left, unwilling to sit there and see how much further the poor guy could sink. We’d like to think he left his date and went home to blog about it on MySpace, but he probably ended up chauffeuring Ron and his ex-date around for the rest of the night.
– Angel Jones, as told to Chris May