Donna Summer’s death means that John Travolta is now Disco’s queen.

— Brendan McLaughlin (@btmclaughlin) May 17, 2012

Something unique happened to me at the 8:00 Rob Delaney show on Friday. I decided to write about it. It involves my ass.

It was Friday night at Bowery Ballroom. They put seats out on the floor, but by the time my friend Jen and I got there they were all taken. We decided to stand in the back of the room right next to the bar. The space filled up soon with other standers, and right before the show started, a couple squeezed in behind where Jen and I stood. The bar was directly to my left, with Jen in front of me, the girl directly behind me, and her boyfriend to her right. The girl ordered a drink from the bar, and I got a quick look at her out of the corner of my eye and noted that she was a babe.

The show started. A few minutes in, the couple started fighting. The girl sounded pretty seriously steamed. From what I gathered, earlier that day the guy had ditched her somewhere and not told her where he was going. I’m sure there was more to it than that, but I didn’t pick up many details because I was trying to focus on the opener, Jamie Lee’s set. At one point I heard the girl say, “You’re disgusting!” I remember thinking, “Something really disgusting must have happened, because she sounds very disgusted.” They kept on for a few more minutes. I was on the verge of turning around and saying, “Do you mind? I’m trying to watch this show.” I glanced at the boyfriend and he seemed to have decided to stop trying to defend himself and give her the silent treatment.

Finally, during Rob Delaney’s second or so bit, the fighting stopped. I was relieved, and excited to give my full attention to a comedian I’m a big fan of and had only seen live one other time. That would soon prove impossible, but not altogether unfortunate. A few minutes after the arguing had subsided, I felt a hand graze my left ass cheek. I figured it was accidental, and it might have been. The place was crowded and everyone in the back was pretty tightly squashed. The point is, I was unfazed by it, and sent that message by not moving or repositioning my stance in anyway. “The attractive woman standing behind me accidentally touched my ass. Cool! Now, back to the show.”

A few seconds later, I felt the hand again. Then again. And again. And again – each time the touches lasted longer, and the gaps between them got shorter. Before long, she was full-on caressing my ass. Delaney’s set lasted an hour. This girl, a total stranger, rubbed my ass, deliberately and continuously, until the show ended. For an HOUR.

After about fifteen minutes of gentle caressing, her attack became a little more aggressive. The grip on my ass got tighter, and the motion became firmer and more massage-like. I kept waiting for her to get tired and stop, or get spooked by the possibility of someone noticing, like one of the of hundreds of people standing around us or HER BOYFRIEND. But that didn’t happen. Every so often, someone would lean in front of me to order a drink from the bartender. She would stop, wait out the transaction, and go right back into it when the person had stepped away.

Several people I’ve told this story to have asked why I let her do this to me. Here’s why:

1) It was exciting.

2) It was erotic.

3) It felt cool on my ass.

Also, I think it’s important to note that I was not victimized in any way whatsoever. None of this would have happened if I had given any indication that I wasn’t on board. As far as I’m concerned, this weird, erotic thing that we shared was perpetrated by both of us. Equally. It happened because we both wanted it to, and I’m sure that if I hadn’t given her the green light, she would have stopped.

Other people have asked me why she did it. Obviously, I don’t know the answer to that, but my guess is that she was acting out against her boyfriend. (Like I said, I was by no means a passive innocent bystander here. Her boyfriend was standing a couple feet away from me, and I knew that.) I don’t think she saw what my ass looks like through a baggy pair of dungarees and lost control of her sense of right, wrong and appropriateness. Honestly, I don’t even really know what my ass looks like — but I’m pretty sure if you saw a close-up of it you’d know it didn’t belong to Bruce Springsteen. I think she felt spurned by her man and wanted to spurn him back in some way. I think she looked down, saw my ass and thought, “I can work with this.” My ass was in the right place at the right time, like Mike Love was when they let him join The Beach Boys.

Not that this excuses anything, but the way this girl and her man friend treated each other during the show — her rubbing my ass for an hour, but also her getting mad at him, his reaction to it, not to mention whatever he did in the first place that had offended her so badly – leads me to believe that that’s not a very good relationship. Right now I’m single and can let women I don’t know touch my ass cheeks, and I like that! I don’t think I’ll want that forever, but maybe I will. Who knows? But me wanting that is part of the reason I’m not in a relationship right now. I was in love once, and when we were together I never touched other people’s asses. I would touch her ass and consider myself a lucky man. I’m sure I thought about touching other people’s asses during the year that we were together — probably every nine seconds or so, but it was never a serious thought. I put what we had together over my desire for strangers’ asses. I know this girl did what she did impulsively in a moment of anger, but I still think it’s a symptom of a not good relationship. But then again, what do I know? I’m just some guy who goes around letting strangers rub his ass. And again, while this rationale keeps me from feeling especially guilty, I don’t have any real excuse for letting her do that when I knew she had a boyfriend, besides the fact that it felt cool on my ass.

You’re probably wondering what my wiener was doing during all this. It definitely knew something was happening. Any time something cool happens anywhere on a man’s body, his wiener pops up and says, “Should I get involved in this?” That happened, and that’s the part of the story that’s kind of unfortunate; as far as my memory of the night goes, the content of the show itself is kind of a blur. It’s hard to give comedy the attention it deserves when you’re being rubbed inappropriately and have a throbbing erection. In this case, my wiener definitely said, “Is there any way you could cut me in on whatever’s happening back there?” and my ass was like, “Let me have this.”

The show ended, and the rubbing stopped. The lights went up, and the girl immediately bolted. By the time I turned around and she was already gone. My friend Jen turned to me.

“Funny stuff, huh?”

Reality started to seep back back in. My heart was pounding. I looked around to make sure her man friend had left and the coast was clear. “I. Have. A CRAZY story.”

“What????”

I told her. She was, understandably, floored. We decided to go to the downstairs bar where the bathrooms are and see if we could find her. That was when I realized that, while I knew exactly what the guy looked like, I had only glanced at the girl for second while she bought a drink. All my brain had retained of her bodily appearance was a sexy blur. I kept looking. I made eye contact with numerous women and tried to give a look that asked, “Did you just rub my ass?” I don’t think any of them liked that. We even peeked into the bar next to the venue but there was no sign of her/him there either. I guess when you rub a stranger’s ass cheek for an hour you just sort of want to get out of Dodge afterwards – butt and run, if you will.

It doesn’t seem like as huge of a deal now as it did right after it happened. I called a few of my “besties” after the show, telling them daddy got his bum rubbed by a nice lady. I even told my sister about it the next day. I’m pretty sure she vomited and wept blood. But yeah, now, it just seems like a cool thing that happened.

At the same time, it was definitely novel. I don’t plan on forgetting it any time soon. The encounter I shared with this girl was pretty intimate – maybe even more so than other ones I’ve had that have involved me actually seeing people naked and having my wiener explode. And again, it was very exciting. Am I doomed to spend the rest of my life trying to recreate this encounter, like Jimmy Stewart in “Vertigo?” Paying prostitutes thousands of dollars to come to my place, fire up a comedy special and rub my ass? I would like to meet her again, just because, you know, we shared something.

Hey you,

Are you out there? I’d like to know who you are. We could talk about what happened, and other stuff too. And maybe I’ll touch your ass.

Send an email to brendan@brendanmclaughlin.com with the subject, “I spent an hour rubbing your ass” so you stand out among all the people who write to me who haven’t rubbed my ass, or have rubbed my ass but for a shorter period of time.

Weird that when you type a dash in Word and then hit space bar, the dash gets a boner.

— Brendan McLaughlin (@BTMcLaughlin) April 11, 2012

Remember when Jonathan Rhys Meyers tears Scarlett Johansson’s top off in “Match Point?” I just did the same thing to a bag of dumplings.

— Brendan McLaughlin (@BTMcLaughlin) April 10, 2012

“The Client List” premieres on Easter, which fits in perfectly with my family’s tradition of j. o. in’ to some tits.

— Brendan McLaughlin (@BTMcLaughlin) April 3, 2012

Really weird clip of Matt Lauer walking off the set after hosting The Today Show with Sarah Palin: youtube.com/watch?v=kaAIbg…

— Brendan McLaughlin (@BTMcLaughlin) April 3, 2012