This stuff makes for a good story, but was it kind of shit to live through?
I tend to forget the bad parts and focus on the good parts. And I prefer an adventure any day of the week. Example:
I was in college and had just had my heart broken. I was a virgin at the time and was dating a girl I was stupid in love with. Anyway, I didn’t want to have sex before marriage (yeah, that worked out well) and so she fucked my best friend. I was wrecked and said fuck it, I’m outta here. I joined the Army on the shortest possible enlistment, 11B which is infanty. I got to Ft. Benning and had only been there about a day when I was pulled to take a test, the DLAB (http://usmilitary.about.com/cs/joiningup/a/dlab.htm). I did well on it, even though I put all “C”s in one section (fell asleep during test) so they offered me my choice of language and the promise of an exciting job.
So what would you do? Well, I looked at it like a fun adventure. Sure, I liked shooting and so on, but how cool would it be to learn German? And maybe go to Germany? I was IN. So I signed and they shipped me off to Ft. Leonardwood for basic. While there, a Drill Sgt. came up to me and said, XXXX, you’re going to be an officer! They had recommended me to the Prep School for West Point. USMAPS, if you care to look it up. They pulled me out of the field and had me take the SAT (I had never taken it since my college took the ACT). I did pretty well on that, finished basic, and was sent off to the Defense Language Institute in California. I was having the time of my life there — good friends, booze, sex, etc, and I was accepted to the Prep School. Well fuck. I didn’t want to leave, but figured it would be stupid not to go. I went and we weren’t allowed to smoke, drink, fuck, plus all of our time was carefully monitored. I hated it, and knew that I had another 4 years of West Point ahead of me. I said fuck it, resigned, and went back to DLI.
Now, did I do the right thing? Who fucking knows? I’m here now in my life and happy as a clam. But I jumped through every door with my eyes wide open, hoping for something fun on the other side. You don’t do that, you may as well be dead.
Post Footer automatically generated by Add Post Footer Plugin for wordpress.
The Feminist
Ok, quick story. I met this girl shooting pool. She fit my physical profile, i.e., tall, slender, dark hair, but what drew me to her was that she was wearing a kimono. I mean, how cool is that? Anyway, we started shooting pool and got along pretty well. She was wired really tightly, but she was hot and at the time, that was good enough. She was in law school and always whining about the glass ceiling, the plight of the woman today, the 75% pay discrepancy, etc. It was really tedious, but by the same token, she really got off giving head, and who doesn’t like that?
Anyway, I can be a bit of a dick and enjoyed tweaking her. I’d make sexist jokes, make fun of ugly girls, point out the bull dykes and suggest I could turn them, etc. She would get all mad, tell me that my attitude was the reason women had all the troubles they had, then spend the next hour sucking my dick and telling me how much her Dad was a horrible person. By the way, when I met him, we got along famously. Great guy, a lot like me. But I digress. Anyway, our relationship was rocky and I was about done with the whole thing when one day we were chilling in my house and I got hungry. I suggested to her that I needed something to eat and “dem sammiches ain’t gonna make themselves”.
Well, she got all wound up and started yelling at me about how I was such a sexist pig, that I knew how important feminism was to her, and that I couldn’t possibly love her when I was so comfortable saying such offensive things.
You know that phrase that you don’t say, but you really want to, and you know if you say it, things are over?
So I said, “Well, you’re pretty much an occasional feminist because I pay for everything.”
I hear she’s doing well, dating another guy exactly like her father.
TL;DR: My girlfriend was a fake feminist
Post Footer automatically generated by Add Post Footer Plugin for wordpress.
The Married Girl
Ok. This was in Germany and is one of the many things I’m not especially proud of…
There was this girl who lived in the apartment building, a few floors down. I don’t know why, but she took a bit of a liking to me and kinda hovered around. She was married to a gigantic infantry guy who was as nice as he could be. She was … at best, lumpy. She wasn’t exactly fat, but she had this look of bovine confusion that made me want to disappear every time she came to bring me cookies, or whatever. I dunno, she was just … dull.
Anyway, one night my friends and I were watching one of my favorite movies, “Henry V”, the one with Kenneth Branagh. We’d been drinking and “Sharon” showed up. Actually, I have no idea what her name was, but this will do. Anyway, my buds had been mocking me about her for a long time, so she showed up with more cookies, which she handed out, they gave me the look of schadenfreud, and left me alone with her. I had already had most of a bottle of vodka (the cheap shit, not Goose), and I just wanted her to go.
I had a cookie, of course, since her cookies were heavenly, and she sat there making small talk. I replied as politely as possible, trying to get her to leave, but then she asked me if I wanted a massage. Well fuck. Who doesn’t want a massage? So I was getting a nice massage when she told me that it would be better if I took off my shirt. I did so, oblivious as fuck. After a bit, she said gleefully, “My turn!”
Well fuck me. I should have seen that one coming. No one gives a free massage. I thought quickly, or as quickly as I could as drunk as I was and said, “Ok, but you have to get naked first.” Now, bear with me… I figured she’d storm out. Hey, she was married right? She was just flirting, right? Well, she stripped down faster than I could have imagined. Oh hell. Now I have a naked annoying lumpy girl standing in front of me because I told her to get that way. My options were twofold:
- Gracefully decline.
- Man up and be polite.
I figured I’d get away with the naked massage, but she wasn’t having any of that. Her back was like one of those memory foam mattresses that conforms to your spine and gives you a perfect night of sleep and when my fingers sunk in I started frantically wracking my brain for a graceful exit.
Then she started massaging back. One hand reached back between my legs to return the favor and all of a sudden I thought, well, she isn’t exactly hot, but I certainly don’t want to be rude. What kind of man would ask a woman to get naked and then leave her hanging? She could really have her feelings hurt to get rejected after she put herself out there and showed me her vulnerability.
The horny male’s ability to justify himself and rationalize truly horrible behavior is second to none. Add in the vast quantities of vodka I’d already consumed and I was finished. I stopped thinking about how unattractive she was and started focusing on how enthusiastically she was going to town on me. There really wasn’t any way I could stop now without insulting the lady and what kind of gentleman would I be if I were to do that?
Folks, I did my duty. I decided if I were going to cross that line I would give her the best I had to offer. While it’s true I was wrecked, I was also attentive, inventive, and did my best to give her the finest lay of her life. There was no way I was going to be able to finish myself off, as drunk as I was, but in a further display of absolute selflessness, I faked a massive orgasm (yep, the one and only time) and told her how awesome she was. Quick side-note – every girl wants to think she’s the finest to ever hit a mattress and it never hurts to tell her she’s right. Of course, there was no way I was going to go for a repeat, so I told her that she was awesome but that she was married, both of us were clearly carried away by the moment and we could never do it again.
A few days later her infantry husband came up knocking on my door. Now I’m 6′ and was in pretty good shape, but this guy was a monster. He basically told me that it was making him sad (huh? SAD?) that his wife was coming up to my place all the time and that although he knew she’d never do anything, it just didn’t look good. I agreed with him on all counts and said that she just knew I was lonely and was being a good neighbor. He thanked me and left. She never came up to my place again, but she used to wink at me in the hall.
I still think I did the right thing in the end. I know it was stupid and I got myself into the situation, but once I was there, I did my duty. She had fun and as I always say, you should try everything at least once.
Post Footer automatically generated by Add Post Footer Plugin for wordpress.
How do you wake up in the morning?
As the sun peeks its head above the horizon, my day begins. A thousand butterflies are released in my room and their soundless flapping stirs the air and sends the most delicate breeze possible across my supine figure. A scientifically perfected blend of all the best sounds in the world, created by a team of MIT researchers, in conjunction with a Juilliard think-tank starts to play, so softly at first that only a young woman who just told her dream man that she loves him and is waiting for a response could hear it. As the sound becomes barely perceptible, a vent opens and the smell of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies and brewing coffee is released. I stir slightly, which is the cue for four nubile women wearing only wispy sarongs to enter and position themselves two on each side of the bed. They remove the bedspread with the reverence usually associated with taking down the American flag, then take it to the sanctuary, where it is burned and provides the heat to warm the orphans of New Delhi. They return and bring me to full consciousness by repeating softly, “the world needs you, the world needs you“.
As soon as I open my eyes, the murmuring stops and they wait breathlessly. I select one with a gentle nod of the head, and the others back out silently. The one fortunate enough to remain uncorks a bottle that combines aloe, peppermint, and the tears of the penitent. My body is fully massaged and I feel invigorated, ready to face the day ahead.
Or sometimes I just have Starbucks.
Post Footer automatically generated by Add Post Footer Plugin for wordpress.
My Last Fight
Ass kicked… yeah, I lost as many fights as I won. I have a nice scar on my upper lip from getting sucker punched. I went down like a sack of potatoes. The last fight I was in wasn’t really a fight…
Ok, so I was in a small bar in Woodstock, NY. I lived in a town called Saugerties and loved to shoot pool. Since I’m pretty good and certainly better than most bar shooters, I liked to camp the tables at a bar called “The Pinecrest”, AKA, The Pine Crack. Many drugs were done there. Woodstock is best known for the music festival, but there are huge recording studios and a ton of artists go there to cut records. Anyway, the Pine Crack was only about 9 miles from my house, so that was my hangout. I’d go there about 8, have a few drinks, get warmed up and shoot pool the entire night. Where was I going with this? Oh right. Fight. At the time, I was living with my Army buddy, the one who I double-teamed Betty with, and that dumbass loved to fight. Well, he was banned for live from the Pine Crack so I had to go there alone, since it was the closest table and the people were cool. In fact, I beat quite a few famous people in pool at that bar, including all of Phish, the Pretenders – Chrissy, and Uma Thurman’s brother. Who is a dick, btw. Anyway, it was a slow night and this short little fucker kept annoying me. I was vastly superior to him but he kept on talking and just fucking with me. Now I am a pretty peaceful guy, but this annoying little yapping terrier finally got to me. I told him that we should go outside and discuss this, away from everyone else. My goal was to defuse things and figured that all the eyes might make things worse. So he freaks out and makes me promise not to hit him. Ok, I promise, fucking mushroom. Anyway, we went outside and I asked him what the hell he was doing, told him that I was just trying to have some fun and he was being annoying as hell. He replied that he was just trying to even the playing field, that he knew I was way better than he was and he was just trying to win. I told him I understood, but that wasn’t cool and he agreed to stop. We shook hands. Win, right? Wrong. As soon as we got inside, he says loudly, “AND YOU’RE STILL A FUCKING ASSHOLE!” Well fuck. So I threw him through a bunch of chairs and he left. I told my side of the story and never saw him again.
TL;DR: The last fight I was in wasn’t really a fight…
Post Footer automatically generated by Add Post Footer Plugin for wordpress.