Sometimes, in life; over New Years, Easter Bank Holidays or every other Sunday, we reach this hellish cross-over of tired/horniness. With a carb having not crossed my lips since the stone age, this was a feeling I knew too well. And although I was near dribbling down my own gilét out of sheer tiredness, sometimes you just gotta grind (Please. Who you judging?) I was off carbs, not cock. As if I was gonna deprive myself of all pleasures. It’s the ultimate question that every gay man must asks himself at one point or another; Would I rather be a skinny whore or a fat virgin? Regina George or Dawn Schweitzer ? Exactly.
So I’d flirted with this muscled aussie for a while and now it was crunch time. God no, not literally. I was running on narcotics and nicotine, I just about had the energy to virtual flirt, let alone do crunches.
On the way to his place, “I took a wrong turn…and quite literally lost my direction” and ended up on the corner of teenage pregnancy and stinks of skunk. I was waiting for the roughest mugger in the Bronx to hold a gun to my head until I handed over my baguette and Manolo Blaniks (Ref: SATC). Luckily, that was Carrie and not me and I got to his in one piece.
Firstly, as if he lived in a cul-de-sac, cos let me tell you – this weren’t no Wisteria Lane. Girl nearly gets stabbed by some underage weed head with a pram and they have the audacity to call it a cul-de-sac. Dead End is definitely more appropriate.
Entering, it was like that classic movie cliché where the smart (and hot) protagonist sleeps with a hot younger guy and awakes the next day to neon bar lights and bongs. Having to step over the empty pizza boxes in her Jimmy Choos while dashing for the door. He wasn’t younger than me, but he still had the messy flat of a stoned eighteen year old. I mean, if you’re having company at least take out the used plates to makes space for the used condoms. As if pulling off a Johnny and throwing it on the carpet wasn’t unhygenic enough, but throwing it on to two day old pizza crust is just plain nasty.
Standing there, in last nights clothes (What? They were gunna end up on the floor anyway) I was cautious in stripping off; primarily as he’d probably smell the drugs seeping out of my pores, and secondly; I wondered if they’d get eaten by the other clothes residing on the floor. So after a semi-frisky shower, he asks what DVD I want on. Girl, if you’ve got one eye on me and one eye on the TV, and wasn’t born visually impaired, something’s not right! So we’re getting down to it, and LI-LO and behold, she’s there on the TV. Now it was me with one eye on the guy and one eye on Lindsay’s outfit.
After some more heated FF’-ing (No, not “face-fucking” – “Finger Foreplay”) he asks…
“What are you, an acupuncturist?” Not being funny, but ain’t an acupuncturist to do with pregnancies and ultra-sounds and whatever? Did I look like a fucking mid-wife? If so, tell me and I’ll give Chainey the Chimney and her three kids outside some advice.
Really though? Acupuncturist? Or was he just saying I had a needle dick? No, that can’t be it. He must’ve been referring to my slender fingers, and yeah maybe my technique was a little original (?) but it made you moan like a bitch, so now why you whining like one?
Whatever, I don’t think it was an insult, (you know these Australians, they just throw around words that don’t really mean anything, like “mate” and “cricket”), as if I wasn’t over it five seconds later – but just to add insult to injury we are faced with a Samantha and the cow incident. As if calling me a mid-wife wasn’t a slap to the face enough, he then had to do it again with his bodily fluids? Cut to me sitting there with what must’ve looked like a Blair Witch snot dribble dangling from my nose, but I was totes more worried about my eyebrows. I was also totes out of there, gone quicker than I’d came 😉
After scrambling to find my clothes through the scrap yard that was his bedroom floor, I left elegantly, leaving Magda’s number on the side. If he wants to see me, he can see a cleaner first.
“Mhmm… you ain’t know dat” – Brenda, Scary Movie