Over the summer of 2008 I discovered the most wonderful thing about drinking in my hometown bar, located in the boondocks of Long Island: Naked Photo Hunt: An arcade game where you pick out the five differences between two pictures of one naked babe.

I didn't really play, so much as watch Aaron play, who was this hot, ex-vet and ex-married guy, who had hooked up with every girl who hung around the bar, but didn't want another relationship because he cynically knew they were all doomed for failure. So for now he was choosing me to be his Naked Photo Hunt cheerleader while he and a buddy played. I would also get to be his seductress, but only if I could stay up past 4 am, when the bar closed and his drinking habit would have to be put on hold until the following night.

I'd watch over Aaron's shoulders, amazed at his agility, the ease with which his fingers flew to the differences: Different hair lengths, different panty colors, different boob sizes. He'd already set all the records, now we was just trying to break them. Occasionally I'd stick a pointer in, getting something right just before time ran out.

"Nice One," Aaron would give me a squeeze around my waist, and I'd lose my breath for a second. I was attracted to this guy, for real.

But after Labor Day I went back to New York City, and Aaron was in no way capable of long distance anything. So it's not that I was replaced, because I was never his to begin with. Unfortunately it was only after I had found the five things about Aaron that I liked that my time with him was up.

Halloween '08 soon came to the city which meant that my friends and I could dress up like freaks without judgment from the hipsters or adults. OK, so I didn't wear anything ugly because I wasn't going to make myself any more heinous than I feared I already might be. My friend Luke on the other hand dressed up in a full bodied, muscular Super Sperm costume, with a sperm-tail to boot. He got hit-on all night.

I found the one straight guy at my friend's Queen-ridden house party. He was dressed in plaid. "Like Paul Bunyan," he said. "Yawn," I yawned.

But luckily for Bunyan, he was persistent. Since I was pulling a serious case of the triple D's – Depressed, Drunk and Desperate – I was not one for complaining at the attention I was being given. I engaged him in his version of conversation, or dull-ersation, as he must have called it. I gulped down my drinks and tried to act interested.

And as it turned out Bunyan and I did have something in common. It came up during endless talk about popular bars we frequented. He asked, "Do you know Naked Photo Hunt?" I was all too aware at how my eyes lit up, when I animatedly said, "Do I!"

When Bunyan and I snuck out of the party, I knew Luke thought I was going to get some ass. Of course I was going to find the difference between the asses. But Luke didn't have to know that.

It didn't take very long for the bar game to get old because neither of us was very good. So what else was there after we had already lost then to make-out way too intently on bar stools in front of the arcade screen.

I opened my eyes mid session because I was feeling a little dizzy. A naked brunette posing in thong and stilettos stared back at me. She was lounging on a lawn chair, and I remembered her from the summer, from Aaron – when all I wanted to do was kiss him while he was playing the game that I had been watching.

I felt some sort of sick catharsis, coupled by that last shot of tequila that was not sitting well in the pit of my stomach. I closed my eyes again, and tried to concentrate on kissing. But that was the wrong thing to do. I excused myself from the tonsil hockey and made it to the bathroom just in time to puke in the toilet.

I haven't played Naked Photo Hunt since.