Assholes Finish First Read Online Free PDF Page A

“Well, who the fuck is Stacey?”
    Jennifer “You tell me, asshole!”
    I knew I shouldn’t say this. It was mean… but she is being such a bitch, I just couldn’t help it. Plus, she wasn’t very attractive.
    Tucker “I don’t know, but her purse is on the sofa. Can you send her over? Because she’s a lot hotter than you.”
    This might be why I always have to find new girls to fuck.
    She dresses quickly. The whole situation is awkward and confusing, even for me. Well, confusing more than awkward, because I don’t actually give a fuck. But seriously, why is there another purse in my apartment, and whose driver’s license is it?
    Oh my God.
    I call TheRoommate. I hear his cell ringing in his bedroom. He answers in a groggy voice.
    TheRoommate “What’s up?”
    Tucker “Dude, did you hook up last night?”
    TheRoommate “Yeah.”
    Tucker “Oh shit! Dude, why did you do that to me? You NEVER bring girls home.”
    I explain to him what happened, but instead of laughing, his first question shows how well he knows me:
    TheRoommate “Did you take any money out of her purse?”
    R EDUCE , R ECYCLE , R EUSE
    Occurred—January 2003
    When I first moved to Chicago, it was to be a writer, so I refused to use my law degree to get a “real” job. I knew it would pay so much that it’dmake me complacent and drain my creative energy. If I was going to become a writer, I was going to do it full-time. Anything else was a distraction from my goal, and a compromise I was unwilling to make.
    That’s great in theory, but in practice, not making any money means that at some point you can’t afford to buy food. That’s pretty bad. Then you don’t have enough to buy alcohol. That’s really bad. But when you don’t have enough money to even go to $1 beer night, it’s an emergency.
    To solve this problem, I got a job with Princeton Review teaching the LSAT. The LSAT is the admissions test for law school, and is very difficult for most people. I on the other hand fucked that test so hard, Duke gave me an academic scholarship. Because of my high score, Princeton Review paid me $21 an hour to teach other people how to take it. I taught about 15 hours per week, which was barely enough to pay for my rent and beer, but I didn’t have to go to an office or really even have a boss, so it wasn’t a soulless job that sucked the life out of me, and it gave me time to write.
    There was another benefit I hadn’t anticipated to teaching that class: girls. Lots of cute girls want to go to law school. And most of them need help on their LSAT. I can do that. I can also have sex with them.
    One of these girls was in my Oak Park class. She was Chicago-girl attractive—great face, big ass—a year out of college, and was way too impressed with my law school résumé. I guess she didn’t mind the fact that I didn’t have a real job or even enough money to pay for both food AND beer in the same week. She always stayed after class for help, and one day I suggested we go to a bar for further “instruction.” Four hours later, we closed the bar, having talked about LSAT stuff for all of two minutes. Gotta love alcohol and sex hormones.
    We went back to her place, pretty far out in the Chicago suburbs. It came time to fuck, I pulled a condom out of my backpack, put it on, and we went at it. It was awesome, some of the best sex I’d had in my life to thatpoint. For whatever reason, this girl and I just clicked physically, so we both wanted to fuck again right away.
    I started searching through my backpack and realized I was out of condoms. She didn’t have any either, which meant I had to go out and buy some.
    As annoying as it is to get dressed and go out in the cold after you’ve had sex, that wasn’t my biggest problem. Here’s the thing: I don’t write about this very often, because it’s pretty embarrassing, but when I first started writing full-time, I was poor. Not regular I-can’t-afford-steak poor, I mean more like Bangladeshi