Here is a handy link guide to all the published chapters of Small Town Boys.

Chapter 1 East of Albuquerque - 2000
Chapter 2, Part 1 1985-1992
Chapter 2, Part 2 1985-1992
Chapter 2, Part 3 1985-1992
Chapter 3 The Summer of 2000
Chapter 4 Settling In - 1992
Chapter 5 Voice Mail - 2000
Chapter 6 A Day at the Beach - 1992
Chapter 7 A Day in the Desert - 2000
Chapter 8 Mike - 1992
Chapter 9 A Weekend at the Villa - 1992
Chapter 10 A Weekend with Danny - 1992
Chapter 11 The Question - 1992
Chapter 12 The Answer - 1992
Chapter 13 Life Goes On - 1992
Chapter 14 In Between - 1992
Chapter 15 Summer - 1992
Chapter 16 A History Lesson - 1992
A Brief Intermission
Chapter 17 After Dinner - 1992
Chapter 18 The Empty Space - 1992
Chapter 19 Connections - 1992
Chapter 20 The Big Day - 1992
Chapter 21 Bart Blumberg - 1992
Chapter 22 The Pitch - 1992
Chapter 23 The Hit - 1992
Chapter 24 Key West - 1992
Chapter 25 The Test - 1992
Chapter 26 Christmas - 1992
Chapter 27 Winter 1993
Chapter 28 Spring 1993
Chapter 29 Summer 1993
Chapter 30 My Boyfriend's Back - 1993
Chapter 31 Autumn 1993
Chapter 32 January 17, 1994 - Six Point Seven
Chapter 33 The Doctor Is In
Chapter 34 Clear Air
Chapter 35 Rocky Mountain High
Chapter 36 Lawyers, Lawyers, and Lawyers
Chapter 37 Now What?
Chapter 38 Take the Chance

Labels: "Small Town Boys"

The Pitch – 1992

Bart Blumberg’s office was in a steel and glass building near Century City, not far, according to Bryce, from Ronald Reagan’s office. Eric and Donny waited for Greg and their father in the lobby fifteen minutes before the scheduled meeting. It was Wednesday, October 7. At first Donny didn’t think he would be a part of it, but Eric told him that the more people that came along, the better their pitch would be. “Besides,” Eric said, “you got us into this.”

“I just talked to the guy.”

“Well, consider yourself a good luck charm then.”

Donny borrowed a jacket and tie from Eric and decided that he would just sit there and nod if anyone looked at him. He’d helped write the prospectus, and taking Eric’s advice, had pretty much followed the track of a couple of computer company annual reports that he found lying around. Cathy had supplied all the financial data, and Allen McKay, the twins’ father, had come down to the office for an afternoon. He looked like a forty-five year-old version of his sons with the same features; a sharp jaw line, bright blue eyes, lanky frame, and thick blond hair that was going slightly grey at the temples. He vetted the legal information and had his secretary type it up. The final result looked to Donny like a term paper for an AP math class, full of charts and graphs, but Allen said it looked good enough and it answered most of the basic questions that investors looked for in a start-up.

Donny thumbed through his copy as he waited. Eric and Greg had drafted biographies for themselves and Donny learned a few things about his employers. Both of them had graduated with honors from high school and college; Greg with a degree in business with a minor in philosophy, and Eric in computer science and a minor in theatre.

Eric was standing by the revolving door, apparently fascinated by a ficus tree in the alcove. After a moment and another impatient glance out at the parking lot he came over and sat next to Donny on one of the dark wood benches by the elevators.

“Theatre?” Donny said.

“Huh?”

Donny pointed at the bio. Eric nodded and grinned a little. “Yeah, it was yang to the comp sci ying. Plus,” he added with a shrug, “chances of meeting a guy were better in the theatre classes.”

“You do any shows?”

“A couple.”

“Like what?”

Eric looked slightly embarrassed. “I played one of the fairies in A Midsummer Night’s Dream.”

Donny suppressed a laugh. “Really.”

“Yeah. ‘Peaseblossom.’ The director did it as a period show from the ‘Summer of Love’ and the fairies – all guys – wore Speedos, body paint, and hippie headbands. It was fun.”

“I’ll bet, ‘Airy-Fairy.’” Donny grinned at the vision of Eric prancing around the stage to 1960’s rock music in a Speedo.

Eric gave him a mock glare. “I’ll have you know I looked pretty damn good in it.”

“I’m sure you did. Got any pictures? We should put them in the prospectus.”

Eric was about to reply when he spotted his father and Greg approaching. They went up in the elevator and down the hall to the door with Mr. Blumberg’s name on it. “Here we go,” said Greg under his breath. It was the first thing he’d said since he’d arrived.

The reception area looked the entrance to a downtown law firm. Greg gave the woman at the front desk his name. She nodded and said, “Follow me, please.” They were shown into a pristine conference room with a large oak table and leather chairs around it. The assistant, a perfectly dressed black woman, offered them coffee or bottled water and said Mr. Blumberg would be in shortly. They stood, not wanting to sit until Bart showed up. Eric examined some of the prints on the wall; they were posters of impressionist exhibits from museums around the world. “Nice place,” Donny whispered to Eric, who nodded in return.

“Gentlemen,” said Bart as he came into the room and closed the door behind him. “Please be seated.” He took the chair at the end and Allen sat at his left and Greg at his right. Eric sat next to his father, and Donny slid into the chair next to Greg. After a few pleasantries, Allen handed Bart a copy of the prospectus and launched into a monologue of legal jargon that left Donny far behind. Bart nodded and took some notes on his legal pad with a gold Cross pen, then opened the prospectus and began asking questions that Allen answered with an occasional footnote from Greg. Eric sat silently but followed along as if he understood, nodding, it seemed, at all the right times.

Donny took his cue from Eric and when he nodded, so did he, but after a while his attention began to drift. He found himself staring at Eric. He’d let his hair grow a little longer over the summer and in spite of the hours spent in the office he’d picked up a healthy tan. His face had the same square jaw of his father, and his eyes were bright. He smiled easily; in fact, Donny couldn’t remember a time when he’d seen him frown for more than a moment, and usually it was when he was concentrating. Even when he was deep in his work, his expression was one of carefree casualness, with that little grin of his that showed his front teeth.

Donny noticed that even in this formal occasion, Eric was relaxed. He didn’t slouch in the chair, but he sat almost at an angle, leaning on the arm of the chair, his expression open, the little grin, the glint of teeth. His shoulders, wide and strong (he was rapidly catching up to Donny at the gym), were squared back. His hands were on the table, fingers almost touching, moving only a little when he spoke.

Donny’s mind wandered back to the thought he’d had in the lobby of Eric performing in the play. He tried to imagine what he must have looked like, and found himself thinking about the times he’d actually paid attention to Eric’s body. Of course he’d noticed it when they first met: gay men always size up other men when they first meet; it’s part of the drill. There had been any number of times when they’d shared the bathroom in the morning as they got ready for work. Eric was not especially shy about covering his body when he went to take a shower, and Donny had sized him up then as well – and he was sure Eric did the same to him. He had a nearly hairless body and good muscle definition, especially in his chest and legs, which Donny attributed to the bike riding that Eric had done in college. Donny imagined that Eric must have looked pretty good in a Speedo. Without really noticing at first, Donny began to wonder what it would be like to touch Eric, to hold him, hug him, feel his body next to his. The impromptu kiss when he’d solved the programming problem came back to him, and he remembered what it felt like to kiss him even for a second. It had been warm, hard, and tasted good.

Donny became aware that his cock was getting stiff. It couldn’t be, he thought; I’m sitting here in one of the most important meetings of the company’s career, and I’m getting a hard-on thinking about my boss. He looked away, over to Bart, then to Allen, trying to take his mind off it. The warmth in his cock kept growing, and after a moment it became uncomfortable. He shifted in his chair, and it pressed against his thigh. He was grateful that he was sitting at a table, close enough to it that no one could see what was going on. Without meaning to, he looked at Eric again and felt another tingle. Eric caught the glance and returned it with a quick grin before devoting his attention to what Bart was saying. Donny decided that if anything would quell this sudden impulse, it would be looking at a middle-aged guy in a business suit discussing the finer points of establishing a Subchapter S corporation. Mercifully, it worked, and in a few minutes, Donny’s cock returned to normal. To be sure he wasn’t distracted again he shifted in his chair so that Eric was out of his direct line of sight.

The discussion went on for another half-hour, and Donny was able to follow it once they left the legal territory and starting talking about what they saw as the future for the company. The internet and web development were the coming thing, they said, and there would be countless applications needed to handle the growth. They talked of getting out of the hardware supply business and expanding the software engineering, of hiring new people to accomplish their goals, and even buying their own building; the rented space was getting cramped, and if they really wanted to get a handle on the business, they’d have to have their own production facilities.

“It all sounds very impressive, and it sounds like you boys have done your homework,” Bart said after Greg quoted him the going prices per square foot of warehouse space in five different office parks in the Culver City area. “I’m sure Mr. McGruder will be pleased with the information you’ve supplied me, and I think I can recommend to him that we continue this discussion further.” He nodded, indicating the meeting was over, and they all stood up. Bart shook hands all around, and escorted them out to the reception area. “I will be in touch with you within a week.”

No one said anything as they waited for the elevator, and the silence continued on the ride down. It wasn’t until they were out in the parking lot that Eric began to giggle, and in a second they were all whooping and laughing.

“Well, guys,” said Greg, “I think we sold him on us.”

“I think you did,” said his father. “Now comes the tough part: living up to it.”

“Am I stupid or did anyone notice that at no time did he mention how much he was planning on investing?” asked Eric.

Greg chuckled. “I’m not going to hit the first question out of the park, but on number two, you’re right, he didn’t. This was just a butt-sniffing.”

“Thanks for that image.”

“The next time – if there is one – will be where he comes back with an offer.”

“Then what?”

“We look it over, we go back and forth, and then we either have a deal or we don’t,” said Allen. “We’ll see.” He got in his car. “See you later.”

They rode back to the office in Eric’s station wagon, the euphoria fading as the realization set in that someone important was not only taking their work seriously, but was willing to put money on it. “Jesus,” Greg muttered at a stoplight.

“What?” said Donny.

“We’re in for it now.”

When they arrived at the office, it was like a different place. Phones were ringing, Bryce was pacing around the office with his cordless phone stuck on his shoulder, and Irene was waving a stack of messages at all three of them. Bryce tossed a folded section of newspaper at Greg. “Front of the business section. Not above the fold but you take what you can get.”

They huddled around and read the article from the Los Angeles Times by the tech writer that had interviewed Eric and Greg the week before. There were the usual puns about twins and redoubling efforts to make a better product, but all in all it was a good piece and Bryce said he’d been getting calls all morning. Right now he was on the phone to the production company, asking them if they could deliver another hundred copies by the end of the business tomorrow.

“A hundred?” breathed Eric.

Bryce nodded furiously, then covered the mouthpiece of the phone. “There’s a start-up computer company in the valley that wants to load it on their systems as they come out of the shop. They have twenty systems waiting to go out and orders for a bunch more. They’re selling mainly to small businesses like contractors and medical offices and they’ve been looking for something like Pelican.” He turned back to the phone. “You can? Perfecto. Okay, we’ll be ready.” He punched the off-button. “Done. All we need to do is pick them up and deliver them to the guys in the valley.”

Greg held up his hand. “Hold it. Slow down.” He looked around at the office as if he was trying to get his bearings. A phone in the sales office was ringing, and for some reason Ethan, in his playpen in the outer office, had decided that now was the time to start banging on his Playskool tool bench. “Bryce. Eric. My office.”

The first message for Donny was from Mike. He was at home.

“Hey, where you been?” Mike sounded sleepy, his voice a little raspy.

“Oh.... We had a meeting. How are you?”

“Good. Tired. Big bash last night with the producers and another one tonight. So, you gonna watch it, even though you’ve already seen it?”

Donny had to think for a second, then it clicked. Tonight was the premiere of Capitol Hill. “Yeah, ‘course.”

“I saw the final cut. They fixed it up a little; made it tighter.”

“Good.”

“So. I’ll be at the whoop-de-do tonight, but I’ll call you when it’s over.”

“Okay.”

“Love you.”

“Yeah, you too.”

Donny was about to hang up but Mike wasn’t done. “Hey, I meant what I said about getting away for a while. Like over Thanksgiving weekend or something. I get some time off. Where’d you wanna go?”

“Uh... I dunno....” Donny stammered. He remembered something about promising someone something about Thanksgiving weekend, but couldn’t remember what it was.

“Got a passport?”

“Uh, no.”

“Well, that narrows our chances. But we’ll think of something, okay?”

“Sure. Great. Good luck tonight.”

“You mean break a leg.”

“Yeah, break a leg.”

Donny hung up, returned the other calls, and buried himself in whatever he could find to do to take his mind off anything to do with outside things such as Eric, Eric in a Speedo, Mike, Mike and Capitol Hill, Thanksgiving, going away, and once again Eric. It didn’t help that Eric stuck his head in and whispered “Good job this morning. We’re a hell of a team.” Donny hardly looked up, muttered, “No problem,” and went back to work.

Chapter Guide

Labels: "Small Town Boys"

Chapter 1
Chapter 2 - Matriculation: Part 1
Chapter 2 - Matriculation: Part 2
Chapter 3 - The Search for the Ultimate Party: Part 1
Chapter 3 - The Search for the Ultimate Party: Part 2
Chapter 4 - Home, Sweet Home Part 1
Chapter 4 - Home, Sweet Home Part 2
Chapter 4 - Home, Sweet Home Part 3
Chapter 5 - Workin' For A Livin' Part 1
Chapter 5 - Workin' For A Livin' Part 2
Chapter 6 - The Thermonuclear Family Part 1
Chapter 6 - The Thermonuclear Family Part 2
Chapter 6 - The Thermonuclear Family Part 3
Chapter 7 - She Loves Me, She Loves Me Not Part 1
Chapter 7 - She Loves Me, She Loves Me Not Part 2

Julie

Why is it that no one ever lives up to your expectations of what they will be like? Say you see a beautiful girl or a handsome guy, you get this fantasy in your head as to what he or she will be like. The longer it is before you actually meet this person, the better and better your fantasy gets, the more desire you have to meet them, the more perfect you expect them to be. But when you finally meet them, they never live up to your fantasy. Oh, they may be nice or fun to be with, but they are never the perfect human being that you assumed they would be. This may be because you expect them to meet all of your needs and to not have any needs that you wouldn't mind fulfilling (the only needs that a woman has that guys don't mind fulfilling are sexual). I find that the longer it is before I actually meet someone I desire, the more I dislike them when I actually meet them.

Take Julie for instance.

I met Julie one Saturday morning during football season. I had an assistant manager's job at Max’s Famous Burgers on the campus of Pearl State University. On game days, the place would always be packed before and after game time. I came in and worked until it was time for the game to begin, then I would be done with work for the day and I would leave and head out to the stadium to watch the game. This particular Saturday was the big rivalry between Pearl State and Pearl A & M, which was always one of the biggest college sporting events in Pearl City each year. Julie and her friends walked into the restaurant decked out for the game which was to be played under the blazing sun of mid-Autumn. Even though Pearl City is a northern city, it gets quite hot, reaching the mid-90s in summer and on days like that day. Julie and her friends were all members of the Pearl State Booster Club and were decked out in their purple and gold school colors. Julie was the most beautiful girl I had ever seen before. They came in at about eleven o'clock and stayed until it was almost game time.

Julie was dressed in very skimpy shorts and a halter top that showed off her chest, which was quite impressive. She was very sexy. Her face was very attractive with a Hispanic flavor. I later found out that she was from Miami. Julie was incredibly beautiful and I couldn't help but stare.

Apparently she thought I was attractive as well. Each time I looked at her, she would look back and we would make eye contact. One time she leaned over and said something to one of her friends and they looked over at me. I gave her my best smile and Julie smiled back at me. This exciting game of flirting with each other from across the room went on for the entire sixty minutes she was there.

Finally they got up to leave. I felt a twinge of sadness that my fantasy game would be over for the day. I wanted to talk to her, but there was no way I could walk up to a group of attractive women and start talking to one of them. They walked out the door and left. I thought that the beautiful Julie had departed from my life forever. I sighed and started to head for the restroom in order to change out of my work clothes and into my civilian clothes before heading to the game.

At that moment, Julie walked back into the restaurant. She was looking right at me and smiling. She walked up to me and handed me a slip of paper and simply said "call me." The she left. I looked at the slip of paper and it had her name, Julie, and a five digit phone number on it, 7-5309. Apparently she had assumed that I lived in one of the dorms and could call her directly by dialing only the last five digits of her phone number. Since I lived off campus, I would have to add the numbers "86" to the beginning of the number in order to call her.

In my whole life up to that point I had never been as shocked as I was when this strange, exotic, beautiful woman had walked up to me in front of a crowd of people and given me her phone number. The only thing I was able to do for the next few minutes was stand there with a big, dumb grin on my face. I was flabbergasted and just took it all in stride, like that kind of thing happened to me every day.

Eventually the shock wore off. I went and changed and went to the game, where I watched Pearl State blast A & M by a score of 57 to zero. It was a good thing the Titans won so easily, because I couldn't have concentrated on a close game. All I could do was think about Julie during the entire game. After the game was over, I rushed to a phone booth and called her. We set up a date for that evening.

I went home, showered and got ready for our date. When I was done, it was time to go pick Julie up. I arrived at her dorm and she met me downstairs at the front door. We talked a little bit and decided to go to see The Son-In-Law with Pauly Shore. Now I'm not the ladies man the beginning of this story would have you believe I am, so I was very nervous and acted quite shy during the date. The whole night was uncomfortable and I didn't have much to say to her. We didn't seem to have a lot in common. I chalked it all up as being first-date jitters and tried to enjoy myself. I did happen to be out with an incredibly attractive woman.

After the movie, Julie said that she had a headache and wanted me to take her home. She told me to give her a call tomorrow and said good-bye. I didn't figure that our first date was a very good one, but she seemed nice and I figured I'd give it another try.

The next day, I stopped by a flower shop and bought her a rose and I went by Julie's dorm to give it to her. I didn't know which room she was in so I used a phone by the door to call up to her room and ask her to come downstairs. I told her I had a surprise for her. At first she refused to come down, saying that she had to go study, but finally she caved in and said she would stop and say "hi" to me as she left.

When Julie arrived downstairs, she was with a large group of her closest friends, both male and female. We walked a few feet away from the group for some privacy and I gave Julie the rose. She gave me a wan smile and a indifferent "thanks." She said that she would give me a call later. I felt like shit. A big heaping pile.

Julie walked back to her friends and they started walking in the general direction of the library. When she thought she was out of earshot, she made some sarcastic remarks about how "sweet" I was and her friends had a good laugh at my expense. I'm sure the rose ended up in a trash can somewhere. Julie never called me back. I never called her back either. I never had the desire to call her back.

When I had first seen and talked to her, I thought that Julie was perfect, but after going out with her and having been the object of her and her friends' ridicule and amusement, I found out my fantasy of who Julie was to be in stark contrast to the person she actually was. Julie was far from perfect. She wasn't even a very nice person. She was mean, cruel and childish and I hated the part of myself that easily fell for her beauty and didn't look beyond that to see what kind of person she really was before it could cause me more of the pain that I didn't deserve.

Becky

My date with Julie wasn't the only time that my shyness got the best of me. When I was a sophomore at Pearl City Community College (PCCC), I had a class called The American Experience Part I. Every Monday, Wednesday and Friday that I would go to class, my first priority would be to scan the classroom to spot my favorite classmate, Becky. She had mid-length brown hair and beautiful green eyes that I could never seem to completely get out of my mind. She used to sit in the second seat in the second row from the wall farthest from the classroom's entrance, directly to the right of where I used to sit. Becky was the most beautiful girl I had ever seen in my life.

Many times that semester she would look in my direction and we would make eye contact. We would both look away after experiencing a feeling I can liken only to magic. We relived that moment every time I went into that classroom. Becky was incredibly beautiful and I couldn't help but glance at her repeatedly throughout every class period. I never actually got up the nerve to talk to her, though. Our little "magic" moment could've meant that she was attracted to me or it could've meant that she thought I was some kind of psychotic nut that wouldn't stop staring at her. Hey, nowadays, you never know.

Other than that, the class would give me bountiful time to slip into my own personal coma as I became one of Dr. Ashby's personal transcribers. I would have the opportunity to copy down incredibly boring facts about economic and urban history in the United States so that they could be later regurgitated onto a multiple choice Scantron bubble sheet (can't forget to use my number 2 pencil). The class didn't seem to encompass much learning to me.

I used to get a second chance to make eye contact with Becky when her name was called out during the roll. I imagine the same thing could have happened when my name was called out, but I never bothered to look in her direction, because I didn't want to appear to be too obvious.

After fifty minutes of mind-numbing droning on by Dr. Ashby, and mindless note-taking by thirty-plus students, we would be dismissed. I used to sit at my desk after class was over and pretend to arrange my books until Becky walked out the door and then I would follow her to her next class. It sounds kinda psychotic, but it was really very innocent.

There was one time when I worked up enough courage to talk to her, but when I followed her, she met some strapping young dude outside her next class. Becky appeared to be way too familiar with this guy, touching his arm, leaning in close to laugh at his jokes. I'm sure they were dumb jokes anyway. I assumed they were more than "just friends," and it shot down any confidence I had to talk to her after that. I never did speak to her and I always regretted my lack of confidence. You never know, I might have had a chance to get to know her. Or maybe I would have even have a chance to go out with her if I only had the courage to talk to her, but I didn’t. The guy was probably gay anyway.

For Fun It's A Wonderful Toy

Okay, I guess I gotta talk about the forbidden subject. I know we've all been trying to avoid talking about it. Hey, I do my best to avoid talking about it. In fact I'm not even going to say what it is, I'll just skirt around the issue. Let's just say that this activity sometimes involves monkeys or chickens who need to be disciplined.

This activity that I'm not going to mention is romanticized in a number of songs: “Turning Japanese,” by the Vapors, “Longview.” by Green Day, “Blister in the Sun,” by the Violent Femmes, “Unglued,” by the Stone Temple Pilots, etc. For the females the only song I know about is “She Bop,” by Cyndi Lauper, but then again I'm just a guy and I can't cut through all that clever female subtext. It's interesting that for a subject that is talked about so infrequently it is sung about quite frequently. And done quite frequently.

Now let's say this, there is absolutely nothing wrong with disciplining your monkey or chicken, assuming your monkey or chicken has done something that deserves discipline. It's just that certain people (read “religious”) have a problem with any type of pleasure that a person can have. Not only do they feel guilty about their own pleasure, they feel the need to try and make you feel guilty about your pleasure. I guess this is some feeble attempt to assuage their own guilt. Doesn't work. It just makes people feel bad about something that they should feel completely normal about. It's normal, natural, healthy and all that clinical stuff that sex therapists say about it.

When you are disciplining your monkey or chicken, usually you will need some assistance. I don't mean another person, because that wouldn't be disciplining your chicken, now would it? No, what I'm talking about is something to help you inflict the discipline. Women have it pretty easy in this area, because they have all that hardware. Us dudes on the other hand really only have two things that work. The right and the left.

In addition to hardware, you'll need some software. The easiest software to use is easy to come by: videos, magazines, the Playboy Channel, the Internet, erotic literature (including Anais Nin or Anne Rice's Sleeping Beauty series), pay-per-view or pretty much anything on Showtime or Cinemax after eleven p.m. But what about those occasions when none of these are readily available and you have a chicken or monkey that's been behaving badly. You have many other options that are usually readily available in most households: Victoria's Secret catalogs, work-out shows on ESPN2, bra & panty ads in the newspaper, perfume ads in popular magazines, Cheerleading Championships on ESPN, athletic equipment infomercials (anything to do with "sculpting your abs"), the women's fitness/dancing championship things that they show on ESPN (it's amazing how much of this stuff is on ESPN. I guess ESPN is the perfect guy network, sex and sports), “Saved By the Bell,” women's magazines (Cosmo in particular), the Sears Catalog (you'll have to find an old one). If you're really stuck for a visual aid, you can turn to a scrambled cable channel that is showing something sexy and if you angle your head just right and relax your eyeballs, you can see what's happening on the screen (sort of like one of those magic eye puzzles). I realize that most of these outlets don't appeal as much to most women (I do recommend the erotic literature, though), but the chicken and monkey punishment industry is mainly a male industry, isn't it?

Okay, since people don't want to actually say the m-word and the chicken and monkey phrases have been used to death on MTV, I thought it would be my duty to provide you with a bevy of other useful terminology that may be helpful in this area: a tussle with Russell the love muscle, auditioning your hand puppet, breakin' tha law, breakin' tha law, cleaning your rifle, crowning the king, defrosting the fridge, doing your own thing, electing the president, faxing the Pope, feeding the ducks, firing the Surgeon General, flicking the Bic, frosting the pastries, genitalic stimulation via phallengetic motion, getting to know yourself, getting your palm red, giving yourself a low five, going on Peewee's little adventure, Han Solo, kicking your roommate out for five to ten minutes to "call your parents," loving the muppet, making instant pudding, mangling the midget, manual override, much goo about nothing, painting the ceiling, peelin' some chiles, playing Uno, priming the pump, roughing up the suspect, sculpting your abs, shooting for the moon, shucking your corn, spanking Elvis, taming the shrew, testing your batteries, that crazy hand jive, tickling the ivory, turning Japanese, waking the dead, waxing your surfboard, windsurfing on Mount Baldy, workin' out a stiff joint, wrist aerobics, you get the point.

Holly

And what's this shit about a woman being hung up on some guy she dated like nine months ago. I mean they haven’t talked in all that time. She dumped him, yet she'll still think about him and feel sad. She'll even sleep with me, but she doesn't want a relationship because she's not over him yet. Bitch!

Okay, if you haven’t figured it out yet, and why would you have, "she" is Holly.

I actually met Holly on accident. I went to a party at Holly's house because I had a crush on her roommate, Mary. Mary worked at the Dee Snider Memorial Record Shop on 37th avenue, where I was a regular customer. Every time I went in, I would talk to her and flirt with her. It seemed to me like we had some kind of chemistry going. I really thought so when she invited me to her birthday party. We have a winner!

The problem was that she was just inviting me because she thought I was a nice guy and not because she was interested in me. She actually spent the whole night (and I mean the whole night) with this guy who looked like John Secada. At first I was a little miffed, but then things grew to be just peachy. Then I met her roommate Holly.

First of all, let me state that the evening was one of the strangest I've ever had. There were probably thirty people at Mary and Holly's apartment for this party and everybody's drinking and playing games and watching the NBA Finals on the tube. We were watching the Knicks and Rockets play when all of a sudden the game was interrupted by this white Bronco slowly driving down the Santa Monica freeway. This was a weird thing to be watching at a party. The entire room was quiet as we watched: no conversation, no games, no nothing. Just a bunch of college students sitting around watching a crazed man threaten to kill himself. We all thought he was going to do it.

Eventually the basketball game came back on and the party started to return to normal. In the early hours, people started to drift away and I found myself talking more and more with Holly. We had really hit it off. At this point I had decided that Holly was the most beautiful girl I had ever seen in my life, so I was really excited to be talking to her. Finally it was just me and Holly and Mary and the John Secada-looking dude. Then Holly invited me into her room.

And, of course, me being the gentleman that I am, I obliged. And we had sex. It wasn't the greatest sex you ever heard about on account of we were pretty drunk and all, but it was still sex and it was still pretty good.

But then, about an hour after we were done, Holly said the strangest thing I had ever heard in an after-sex moment. We were both still awake and had just been lying there doing the whole cuddling thing. She turned to me and told me that she wanted to take things very slow. I thought that was a weird sentiment considering what we had just accomplished together.

She told me that she knew it was a weird sentiment considering what we had just accomplished together, but that she did want to take things slowly. The night before she had just broken up with her boyfriend and wasn't sure how she felt. I later found out that Holly and her boyfriend had broken up and gotten back together seven times in the last nine months. This break-up was because she had caught him sleeping with one of her friends.

So basically, I was there as her revenge toward her (ex-) boyfriend. She called me the next day to tell me that she and her boyfriend were going to give it another try. I told her she was acting pretty stupid. She said she couldn't deny her feelings. I told her I could deny her ability to use her brain to its full capacity. She said, "What?" I said goodbye. She said, "What?"

Groove On

Sex is another area that things are really fucked-up (pun intended) because of traditional, archaic, religious mother-fuckers. People have so many misguided hang-ups when it comes to sex. I don’t mean to belabor this point, but most of these hang-ups are imposed by moronic members of the church who are scared of their own bodies and their own sexuality so they feel the need to make everyone else feel the same. Well, fuck them, I'm gonna get my groove on and I'm not going to feel the slightest bit guilty about it.

What people gotta realize is that sex is natural and normal, not dirty and scary. And as long as sex is consensual and no one is getting hurt (physically or emotionally) then pretty much any type of sex is okay. Rape is wrong. Child molestation is wrong. Sex with a dead person is wrong (non-consensual). Sex with animals is wrong (yeah, like they actually want you doing some perverted thing to them). That's the end of the bad list. Everything else is okay. If My Cousin Richie wants to wear Saran wrap over his entire lower body while getting whipped with a cat-o-nine tails by a black lesbian midget dressed in latex pants and and a green cowboy hat, that's his prerogative. Even if it is a little weird. Weird is good. And if you don't like it, please, for the love of God, go fuck yourself!

Chasing Tracy

Did you ever meet someone who you just clicked with but circumstances conspired to make a future between the two of you impossible. Me, too.

Easter Sunday of my Junior year, me and Brad and Jeff went to Pearl City Beach. Sure the water was going to be cold, but we weren't going for the water. Tons of people go to the beach every Easter to play volleyball, cook out, drink beer and meet women. It's a tradition.

Anyway, Me and Brad and Jeff were playing three-on-three volleyball with these other guys that we kinda/sorta knew from Pearl State University. One guy had the unfortunate name of Savar. These guys just so happened to be friends with the most beautiful woman I had ever seen before, Tracy Sullivan. Wow!

While we were playing she started to cheer my team on. The people on the court would talk to the people off the court, telling jokes, making each other laugh, flirting. I began flirting with Tracy. She began flirting back. Soon the game was over and me and Tracy were walking down the beach by ourselves.

It was the most unique first meeting that I ever had with a woman. We weren't talking about the usual I-just-met-you chit-chat. We were talking about real stuff. We both talked about how we wanted to make the world a better place. Me by writing books that increase people's knowledge and awareness of world problems. Her in a more direct manner - the Peace Corps. She was actually leaving to join the Peace Corps two days after the semester was over.

I didn't let that deter me. I spent as much time as I could with her at the beach. We played volleyball, drank beer, body-surfed the medium-sized waves, splashed water on each other and filled the afternoon with general merriment. When it started getting late I even managed to find a way to ride back to town with Tracy. Brad and Jeff understood completely.

On the way back from the beach, I officially fell in love with Tracy. It wasn't quite love at first sight, but it was pretty close. She had this sweetness about her that few other women I've met have. Everything she did, she did with love and care. She had a genuine love for life, the world, humanity and no matter how bad things got she seemed like nothing could break her spirit. No matter how bad a person was, Tracy could react to them only with love. Even those Hitler-types out there couldn't make her mean or hateful or spiteful. It just wasn't in her. I loved that about her.

Not to mention that she was quite smart and had an interest in most of the things I did. She loved movies, music, reading, the beach and even had quite an avid interest in sports. If I didn't know better, I would've said that Tracy was perfect. Actually, I didn't know better. I thought she was perfect.

Except that she was leaving at the end of the semester. I didn't let that stop me from trying to get to know her more, though. For the rest of the semester we hung out a lot. We went to movies and concerts. We studied together. We went to the beach. We went to baseball games. We talked. We didn't, however, have sex. We didn't even kiss. But that was okay. We both knew that our future together probably wasn't in our future, so we just became best friends.

And then Tracy had to leave. She didn't want to leave me, but she had her plans and her life to live and her impact to make on the world. She knew that it wasn't right to sacrifice that just for a relationship. And I understood that. I felt the same way. If I could've I would've gone with her. But I couldn't. And she couldn't stay. We both knew better than to ask the other to wait. There's no telling what could happen in all that time apart, so it would be unfair to even ask. So we said goodbye. And then she kissed me. It was then and always will be the best kiss I've ever had. It even brought a little tear to my eye. My first and last kiss with the perfect woman.

Lenore

Like most people, there is at least one person in my dating past that I really have no idea why I ever dated her. I wasn't attracted to her. I didn't like her personality. We had nothing in common. Except for the two months we dated. I wasted a lot of time and money for no particular reason. Meet Lenore Weathers.

There are really three ways to describe Lenore (what an ugly name). First of all she was a stuck-up bitch. Second of all she was a gold-digger. Finally she was just plain ugly. And I don't mean just physically. I mean physically, spiritually and any other type of way you could think of, she was ugly. Did I mention that she was a stuck-up bitch?

I really had no intention of even talking to her the night we met. My friend Laura (another Omega Mu) was having a party at her house. Celebrating Yom Kippur or Lent or something like that (one of those frivolous party concepts where we were celebrating a holiday that had nothing to do with our beliefs). Lenore was (past tense) one of Laura's best friends and she just happened to be at the same party as me. We both just happened to be drinking. It just happened to get really late. We both just happened to be among the last few people left at the party. We just happened to hook up. Kinda accidentally.

First let me describe Lenore. She's big. Not big-when-she-sits-around-the-house-she-really-sits-around-the-house-big, but big nonetheless. Not only that, she has big hair. She has a lot of hair, so much so, that when she walks into a room with a ceiling fan, some of her hair gets caught in the fan. She smokes cigarettes (Disgusting!) and has one of those female typical cigarette smoker faces that says to you "Yeah, I smoke, fuck you." I guess she was attractive in that slutty-it's-three-o'clock-in-the-morning-and-I'm-really-drunk kinda way, but boy was I stupid to ever consider doing anything with her. Much less actually doing it, which I didn't. Really. I promise. I didn't do nothing.

Well I don't want to waste too much of your time or my time talking about this bitch, but I'll just give you enough info to know why I hate her so much. She wasn't very well endowed in the brain department. She wasn't very nice or friendly to anyone she knew or met. She wasn't interested in doing anything that someone else suggested doing, only what she wanted. She only wanted to do things that cost (a lot of) money. She was never willing to pay for these things, but she would get mad if we didn't do them. When we began to have sex one night she took off her pants and underpants, but wouldn't take off her bra.

So here's this girl who's wearing nothing but a bra and she won't take it off. I asked her why and she replied that she didn't know me well enough to take her bra off. That kinda put a damper on my desire for her that evening. We never did end up having sex.

Two other things that really bugged me about Lenore happened later on. We had been dating for about three weeks and Valentine's Day came up. I decided to be the nice romantic guy and cook up some succulent steaks and buy wine and candles and serve her dinner. Well I got everything prepared and ready by eight o'clock, when she said she'd be there. By nine she still wasn't there, so I ate and fixed myself a glass of wine.

Ten o'clock came and she still wasn't there. I fixed myself another glass of wine. By midnight I had finished off the bottle of wine and she still wasn't there. About one in the morning a knock came to my door and it was Lenore. She was rip-roaring drunk and came in all loud and obnoxious. When I asked her where she had been she said she had stopped by Benny's Pub (where her ex-boyfriend worked) and had a few drinks. When I told her that I had fixed dinner for her and bought wine, but finished it off, she got mad at me for finishing off the wine.

The last straw came when she flew to New Orleans to go to Mardi Gras. I couldn't go because I had to attend a state convention for Lambda Lambda Lambda. I had no problem with her going, but when she came back we were talking about the trip and she told me that she sucked off some guy on the street during one of the parades. I really have no idea what she was trying to accomplish by telling me this, but it was the last conversation the two of us ever had. I pretty much just told her it was time for her to go and asked her politely not to ever call me again. She didn't. I was glad.

Meeting Someone

Okay, the most important thing that you have to be able to do to find Mr. or Mrs. Right is to be able to meet someone. I know that sounds so simple that I probably shouldn't have to mention it, but you'd be surprised how many people have a problem with this simple little task. I know I always did.

So I did some research into the whole dating scene. I wanted to find out the best places to meet people. I went out and tried to meet people. And I met people. Here's what I found out. No need to thank me, I did this research out of the goodness of my heart. I don't need any thank-you's or financial remuneration. But if you really feel the need to send me money, don't send anything smaller than a twenty. All money can be sent to Vincent Hawkins c/o the publisher of this book.

First of all, you have to find a place to meet someone (a woman in my case). Now you've got your typical meet-market types of places - bars, dance clubs, gyms, Spring Break, the beach, etc., where people are dressing in skimpy and or revealing clothing so that they can attract attention to themselves. Then there are the meeting places for people who are a little bit more shy - the grocery store, in class, bookstores, record stores, the library, etc. At these places it's easy to meet someone because you have a veritable multitude of possible pick-up lines available to you. Just ask them about a product or book or record or whatever and then you've met them.

You can also use props to help you meet someone. Babies, puppies, kittens and little children are all very good for starting a conversation between you and an attractive woman or two. If you're looking for a guy, good conversation starters are sports equipment, cars, or a good body (of course these don't work real well with me [except for the good body thing]. A good prop to start a conversation with me is a good book or game [especially trivia games] or something else that shows me that the woman is intelligent and not afraid to show it).

A similar method that is quite successful is the old sympathy ploy. Men and women both are suckers for injured or hurt people. It provides them an opportunity to show you how nice and caring they are by offering to help you out. Broken legs are great for meeting people. An arm in a sling or a visible limp are also very sympathy-producing. Go ahead, try it.

Avoid sickness like the plague, though. Showing someone that you're sick makes them think that you are weak or a hypochondriac or contagious. In any event, these are not thoughts you want a person you are attracted to to be having when they first meet you.

That brings me to the next important step in meeting someone: the pick-up line. Now it's obvious that you can't use some stupid pick-up line like "What's your sign?" or "Do you live around here often?" You have to be creative. You have to be inventive. You either have to be incredibly confident, romantic or make a complete fool of yourself. Any of these methods works really well.

Now, with the confident method of the pick-up line, you have to be careful and gage your possible date. If you appear to be conceited, most women will be turned off immediately (most guys will be turned on). And there are some women who are completely turned off by the confident approach. What you do is come up with some line that expresses your confidence not only in yourself, but in your abilities to provide her (or him) with happiness.

The Romantic approach works with most women (but not most men, unless they find you attractive, in which case any method will work). With the romantic approach there are several ways to go, but the rule of thumb is to keep it simple (unless you're rich, in which case it really doesn't matter what you do, does it. You're in!). A rose, a poem or just a simple comment such as "You have the most beautiful blue eyes to ever grace my presence" (this comment only works on women with blue eyes. A brown-eyed girl will probably slap you for saying this). Again, it helps to know a bit about the person. The fact that you have some knowledge about the woman's likes or dislikes before she knows you is very romantic. Make sure not to let on that you've done research on her to find out her likes or dislikes, though, because then you appear to be a stalker, and that's never romantic.

Finally is the making a complete fool of yourself method which, I've found, works best for me. Self-depreciating jokes, slapstick humor or some measure of helplessness are attractive to a lot of women, as long as you don't take it too far. You have to be sure not to let them know that you really have bad self-esteem or are stupid, because then they will most likely be turned off. Show them a combination of weakness and strength and they'll fall for you hook, line and sinker. Women (but not men) are often attracted to the "fixer-upper" aspect in a man. They want someone that they can help to become a better person, a project if you will. But they also don't want a complete loser, so balance is the key word in this approach.

I've found, though, that the cruelest women are those that aren't attracted to a man who is really attracted to them. So make sure not to push too hard in a initial meeting-type situation, because it's bound to backfire on you and crush you emotionally (at least for a few minutes).

P.S. My Cousin Richie still uses the cartoon cave-man method of meeting women. He hits them over the head and drags them back to his apartment, which smells like and resembles a cave. Although, there are at least a dozen warrants out for his arrest, he has gotten three dates through this method.

Amanda

Conversely, there's the woman in my past that I wanted to be with more, but I can't really explain why I didn't end up spending more time with her. I was attracted to her. I liked her personality. We had a lot in common. And I have no idea why I chose someone else over Amanda Sadler.

During my sophomore year at P.C.C.C., I became pretty good friends with the president of the college. I had interviewed him a number of times for the newspaper and had gotten to know him. He decided to retire that year and his secretary asked me to be the student speaker at his retirement dinner. I had no problem with that, especially considering it included a free dinner and drinks.

I was supposed to bring a date to the dinner, but I wasn't dating anyone and at the time I didn't know any women that I was interested in dating. So I went with Laura. Me and Laura were always pretty good friends, but we never had any kind of spark that might ignite into a dating-type situation. That's not to say that I didn't try one night (when I was drunk) to hook up with her. But we both knew better than to do anything. It would've hurt our friendship in the long run.

So we got really dressed up (me in a tux, her in a sexy dress), went to the dinner (surf and turf), I gave my speech (I killed `em) and we were done. After the dinner, we went to a party that a friend of Laura's was throwing. I had a few beers and was beginning to feel good when Amanda walked in and I began to feel great.

It was weird. In the middle of this party I'm standing there dressed in a tux, talking about politics to the most beautiful woman I had ever seen before. Like I've said, I'm what you'd call a liberal who doesn't really believe in the Democratic Party, because Democrats are part of the Washington establishment and the Washington establishment pretty much sucks. Amanda agreed with me on the Washington establishment's suckitude and we had an interesting time comparing notes.

She ended up having to leave the party pretty soon after that, but she gave me her phone number and asked me to call her. I did. We went out. Actually she took me to this secluded lakefront spot that only she and a few hundred other people knew about. At the time we were the only people there, but since then I've had other people mention the place to me.

Anyway, there were a number of things that, at the time, made Amanda unique in my experiences. She was the first person I had ever actually met who considered herself an atheist. She told me that she hated religion because it was basically just the organized subjection of women. This was an interesting concept and I marked it down in my mental Rolodex for further research. She also told me that she didn't believe in monogamous relationships. She said that she didn't like to be tied down to one person, she liked to be free to do whatever she wanted. That sounded good to me, but it wasn't what I wanted. I was searching for the perfect woman to have a relationship with, not the perfect woman to not have a relationship with.

That didn't, however, stop me from having quite a bit of fun with Amanda. The first night we had sex (not the first night we went out you dirty-minded freak) she told me that she liked to watch men pleasure themselves. She told me that if I pleasured myself, she would pleasure me afterwards. I said what the hell, it’s two for the price of one. We did other stuff that I can't talk about in a family novel such as this one. Let's just say I think we broke both the laws of physics and gravity. It was much fun.

Kathleen

Nothing bothers me more in a relationship than someone who lies to you. Especially in a situation where you make it clear to them that it's important that they don't.

By the beginning of my senior year I had been on so many bad dates and been in so many bad (but short) relationships that I was kinda scared to be in a relationship of any kind. I had been messing around with Amanda, but as I already said, she didn't believe in relationships, so that was going nowhere. But as much as I feared dating anyone, I couldn't stand being alone anymore. I hated going to sleep alone at night. I hated coming home to an empty bed. And I hated struggling to find someone to go out with when I wanted to go out. Obviously Amanda wasn't the solution to my problems.

One day I was exercising at the Pearl City Gym where I used to work. I still worked out there a lot because I got in free. This girl Lisa, who was my boss when I worked there and was still one of the managers told me that this girl Kathleen (an older woman, no less) had seen me in the gym a number of times and had a crush on me. Of course Lisa told me this after Kathleen had already left the building. I looked out the front window of the gym and watched her get in her car and drive away. She was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen before (I later found out that she had done some modeling when she was younger). I wanted to meet this woman.

And the strangest thing was that I did meet her. That night. It was a Friday and later that night I saw Kathleen at the Late Night Laboratory, at the time my favorite dance club in Pearl City. I don't think she saw me until I walked up to her. She was standing against the railing that looked out onto the dance floor with her back to the little walkway that went around the outskirts of the room. She was kind of swaying to the beat of the music, "Song to the Siren" by the Chemical Brothers.

I tilted back the cheap plastic cup the bartender had handed me and gulped down its entire content of Bacardi and Coke. I tossed the ice-filled but otherwise empty cup into the trash and made my way to Kathleen's side. She turned and looked into my eyes and I could see a sparkle there that made my heart do flip-flops. I leaned down so that my lips were only a fraction of an inch from her ear and asked her if she would like to dance. I held out my hand which she grabbed eagerly and we walked out onto the dance floor without uttering another syllable.

That was one of the most completely sensual evenings of my entire life. We really knew very little about each other, yet it seemed like we had know each other our entire lives. We spoke very little because we let our bodies do the talking. When I was dancing with Kathleen the crowded dance floor seemed to be empty except for the two of us. Our bodies swayed in time with the music and with each other. Our eyes locked the moment we first stepped on the dance floor and didn't break from each other until we took off our clothes and lay down on her bed to make love. And I mean make love, it wasn't just sex like it was with Amanda. It was love.

After that, we were pretty much an item. I wasn't then, nor am I now, one of those guys who does one night stands. The only one night stand I've ever even had was at spring break that year with Chrissy, and that wasn't even my fault. No, everyone else I've ever had sex with, I at least tried to have a relationship with. They never seemed to work out, though.

For the next two months, Kathleen and I got to know each other really well. We continued to have sex. We consummated our congruent love of Pearl Jam by attending a show in Seattle, Kathleen's home town. I met her mother. We had sex in her childhood bedroom (kinda strange, I must tell you). I found out that Kathleen was a vegetarian, atheist, feminist who was dedicating the first half of her life to fighting for animal rights.

My experiences with Kathleen taught me a lot. I ate a lot of vegetarian food (some of it's pretty damn good). I learned quite a bit about the negative aspects of religion and the positive aspects of feminism. And even though we disagreed on animal rights, I learned a lot about the really shitty things that a number of companies (Proctor & Gamble) do to animals under the guise of testing their products. I definitely came out of the relationship more sensitive and intelligent about a number of important issues.

But there were also problems, the biggest of which was that she was trying to hold me back. I have a lot of dreams and I have a lot of things I would like to do with my life. I'm always talking about my dreams in a manner which gives people the impression that I believe I can accomplish my dreams, which I do. This bothered Kathleen. She wanted me to be more practical and set lower goals for myself. That will never happen. I'm always gonna shoot for the stars and if anyone doesn't like it, fuck them. I'll leave them behind, eating my dust. How dare her try to tell me that my dreams were too big.

Then, after we had been together for about a month and a half I felt safe enough around Kathleen to open up to her and let her know my deepest fears and my deepest pains. I told her of how my whole life had been filled with loneliness. I told her that I was homesick for a home that I never had. I told her that everyone who I had ever opened up to had lied to me and hurt me. She promised that she wouldn't do the same. She lied.

Soon after that, she apparently had some sort of personal crisis (either, that or she just got tired of me), because she stopped seeing me. I didn't really know what was going on because she wouldn't tell me, for a couple of days she wouldn't even talk to me. I told her it felt like she was slipping away from me and that I thought that I was going to lose her. Kathleen actually said to me that she wasn't going to go anywhere, she'd still be there for me. That was the last time I talked to her. From that point on, I talked quite a bit to her answering machine, but she never picked up. I never really found out what her deal was. And it hurt me incredibly that she had lied and then wouldn't tell me why.

It's different when you can argue with the person or at least ask them why they treated you like shit. But when the bitch doesn't even give you a chance to do either, what can you do. Nothing. And that's all I could do.

Karrie

Did you ever read the book The Hottest State by Ethan Hawke? Yeah, the actor. Well, he's actually a pretty damn good writer, too (not to mention he can sing. See the Reality Bites soundtrack for further info). It's about this guy who falls in love with this woman who has some pretty severe issues with men and dating in general. Most of her behavior is quite inexplicable to the guy and is very hurtful to him. Anyway, the reason I bring it up is that the woman in the book reminds me so much of the last girl I dated in college, Karrie Padre.

Karrie had a lot of problems. She was constantly depressed. She hated life and was not real fond of men (I never understood why she went out with me). She had been raped when she was in high school and she never really recovered from it. No matter what I, or anyone else for that matter, did for her, she couldn't or wouldn't be happy. She was pretty quiet and would never talk about what bothered her. Sometimes she would just break into tears and they're was nothing I could do to help her. She wouldn't let me and it broke my heart to watch her hurt so much.

I met Karrie at the Late Night Laboratory (I had lots of luck there). One Saturday night I just decided to go to the dance club by myself and see what kind of trouble I could get myself into. I went alone to the Lab a lot and that sometimes worked to my advantage. I didn't have to worry about my friends getting mad when I would inevitably leave them to go home with the woman I hoped to meet any time I went there.

Anyway, I was dancing with myself to the song "Sesame's Treet," by Smart E’s when I spotted Karrie dancing nearby. She was very attractive. She wasn't the most beautiful girl I had ever seen before, but she was still pretty attractive. And she was looking at me. Not staring or anything, but every once in a while she would glance in my direction. Before long we were dancing together. Not long after that we were outside on the deck talking. Not long after that we were going home together. My place.

We didn't have sex, though. We just kissed a lot. And when she left, about 5:30 in the morning, we were officially dating. And we dated for six months, the longest relationship of my life. It was very strange, though, because she was very unhappy. She had a right to be unhappy. Her senior year in high school, she was raped by her then-boyfriend, Brent.

Through the time we were dating, I showed her that not all men are like Brent. I took things slowly and eventually showed her that sex could be a good thing, that she could enjoy it. But nothing I could do could make her happy. In fact, the more good I did for her, the more depressed she became. I don't really know why, but things kept getting worse and worse for her. She wouldn't talk about anything with me, so there wasn't much help I could give her. She was unhappy and determined to stay that way.

But that wasn't something I could live with. I know that there were a lot of problems in the world, but I don't let that depress me all the time. Sure, I get depressed, but I don't let it run my life. Karrie couldn't do that. And that ended up being the reason why we didn't last.

The weekend before I broke up with her I went out of town to a tri-Lamb convention and I had fun. It had been a while since I had been out anywhere and had fun. Me and Karrie went out a lot, but she was never happy with whatever we did, so it wasn't any fun. I missed having fun. I decided that I couldn't continue to date Karrie, she was dragging me down.

Her reaction was definitely not typical. She put a lot of the blame on herself. She asked me questions like "Do I horrify you that much?" And made statements like "I guess you didn't know what you were getting into." I tried to make her feel better, but knowing Karrie, I shouldn't have even tried. I had just given her another excuse to feel depressed.

What Is Love?

Q: So after trying to find the right woman for years and failing, will I ever find her? Does she exist? Have I already met her and not known it? Why do all the women I do date have so many problems? Why do they always lay all their shit on me? What's wrong with them? What's wrong with me? What the hell am I supposed to do? What the hell am I going to do? Should I become a monk? Should I become gay? Why must I be a teenager in love? Who wrote the book of love? Whose bed have your boots been under? What's the story, morning glory? Where's the party? And why aren't I invited?

A: Yes. Yes. No. Cuz they're wacko. Cuz they're wacko. They're wacko. You like dating wackos. Stop dating wackos. Probably keep dating wackos. No. No. You're not a teenager. Pauly Shore? Henry Kissinger? Guy meets girl; girl is a wacko; repeat. Eighth and Forty-deuce. Can't you tell that your tie's too wide, your clothes are out of style, you're out of touch and you think to much. But you know, you could really be a Beau Brummel baby, if you just give it have a chance.

X

Hell, it's not a position I asked for. It's a position I inherited.

A few years ago, I was a mere assistant, happy to simply be a part of a bigger machine, a team that seemed like it was engineered to win. Every time. We won seventy straight games, blowing away the previous record by twenty-three. We pulled in five straight national championships along with tons of awards. Our team was populated with gods.

And coached by a man who never felt the sting of defeat in five years. Someone who seemed immortal.

But it was amazing the day that an NFL team came calling, asking the Coach if he'd be interested in coaching them. "I have no desire to leave this city," he said. They took that to mean the interview was over. He elaborated, and they understood that what he wanted was a pro team in our little bitty city. And that's how the Tallahassee Gladiators were born.

The deal was that he would be bound to a ten-year contract, but that the team would also be obligated to build a stadium in town as well as covering all fees associated with moving the franchise. The city of Houston hated us forevermore, but we didn't care. We had an NFL franchise and they no longer did (for the second time).

The Coach (whose contract with the pro team wouldn't start until the team was in town for a full year) asked nearly all of us at the University to join his staff with the Gladiators and nearly all said yes. I did immediately, seeing a lucrative future in teh pros, and maybe using it as a stepping-stone to a head coaching job for myself. All-in-all, a bright future.

(Let me get this straight, though: this isn't a story that will descend into "then it all went to shit" like so many others do. I'm not setting a stage just to bring you down about me being brought down. I'm simply telling my story. So don't go looking for a kicker or anything. Just relax your sphincters, people.)

After a season of roughness in Tallahassee (only one win for the Glads), we came in and turned things around, drafting some of our finest players from the University and made the city proud. The Coach, they'd say, could work miracles. And I was one of the believers. Everything he touched turned to gold. His only loss as a head coach came against the Bears in year one with the Glads, the lone blemish on an otherwise otherworldly pristine record.

But then the Universoty team fell like a brick. Despite being populated with superstar players recruited by the Coach, the team lost six games, dropping off the rankings entirely. The interim coach seemed to have been given the best team that humanity could recruit and he screwed up the bloody team.

So the University, wise as it is, fired the sorry SOB. But they came begging, asking the Coach to recommend a replacement. "Somebody who knows the players," they said. "Somebody who knows the system," they said. "Somebody GOOD," they howled.

And that's how I got hired in my first head coaching job. I returned to the University (which allowed me to take a hike in pay without having to move)and decided to offer up a new version of the Coach's venerable and successful Power Offense combined with my own dream of a Power Defense. We were going to return to glory.

Hank Prewitt was not a happy Boy Scout troop leader. He had gone to the Boy Scout Troop Leader Banquet, the night before. Sam Drapper had bragged about his boys and how they all were going to get their, "Helping Old Ladies across the Street," merit badges. Sam had made it a point to ask Hank about his boys.

Hank had no problem, last year, helping his scouts earn that badge, but this year, he was given a different set of streets for his boys to help old ladies across. Every Saturday morning, they would hang out at the corner of Elm and Maple, waiting for old ladies to come by. They even had a sign made up saying, "Scout crossing, old ladies our specialty." The way they worked it was that an old lady would come by, she would ask for help crossing the street, and once the scout got her across the street, she was supposed to sign his special form, verifying that he had helped her across. Several old ladies had come by, but each time, when they were crossing, something happened to cause the scout to get hurt or lose face and run home. Why last Saturday, an old lady, batty as hell, came by. She asked for help crossing the street. Steve took her by the arm and was helping her across when her cane caught up in his legs, causing him to fall right smack on his face. The old lady apologized profusely and helped Steve up. Ultimately, she helped him back across the street to Hank.

The week before that, Curt tried to help an old lady across the street. They were trotting along, pretty spryly, when she fell down. He tried to help her up, but her weight caused him to fall down, too. He was so embarrassed, he ran away home. He was still having trouble facing the pack. Every member of the pack had had something accidental happen that ended up with no old lady signing their forms.

The, "Helping Old Ladies across the Street (HOLATS)" merit badge was the easiest badge to get. Hank always made sure his scouts had earned that one, by the time of Boy Scout Merit Badge Banquet, at the least. It was one of the major banquets and all the scouts from the nearby troops attended. From what Hank heard last night, every one of the boys, except his troop, had earned that particular badge. His scouts would be saddened if they were the only ones not getting it. The banquet date was nearing, quickly.

Hank thought about what he could do to help his boys earn their badge. Finally, he called his grandma.

"Granny, could you help me out?" he asked, after he explained his plight.

"Why sure, Hank, where, and when do I need to be there?"

"Elm and Maple, Saturday, get there at 8:00 AM and we will be there by 8:30."

Saturday arrived and he made sure all his scouts were with him as they walked down to Elm and Maple. His grandma was there, but there was another old lady standing there, smoking a cigarette and scowling at grandma. He wasn't about to tell the scouts he had called in his grandmother to help. He looked at the old ladies and asked which one wanted to go first.

Granny said, "Oh, I decided I didn't need to go across the street, after all. This lady here, does, though. Help her," and she walked away.

Hank looked at the old lady. She looked familiar, but he couldn't place her. She didn't have a cane with her, so that, at least, wouldn't be a problem.

"Do you fall down?" he asked her.

"What type of dumb fool question is that?" snarled the old lady.

Startled, he decided he would help her across to show the boys how it was done.

"Here, ma’am, take my arm and I'll get you across that street."

"I want one of the boys to take me across," she replied in a crotchety tone.

"I need to show them how," he explained.

"Fine! Alright! Help me, then, you asshole!"

Hank gave her his arm to hold on and she threw her cigarette butt to the ground, stomping on it several times.

As they started across the street, she tripped on her high heels. If he hadn't thought fast and grabbed her by the back of her waist, she would have landed, splat, on the ground.

"Auuaagh, my ankle," she cried, "and my back! Get me to the hospital."

Hank pulled her back to the corner, "wait here, ma’am, I'll get my truck."

"NO, I wanna go now!" she started screaming, screeching, really. Everyone looked to see what the noise was. The scouts all hunched inwards, trying to make themselves as small as possible.

Sheriff Duffy was sitting in his patrol car waiting for a scout to get the old lady across. "What's going on, Hank?" he asked.

Hank started to explain when the old lady threw off her heels and started running. She was fast! She was out of eyesight before they knew what they were looking at. Hank told the sheriff of all the problems his scouts were having getting their badges.
The sheriff closed his eyes for a moment. He looked at the scouts. He finally made a decision to tell them what was on his mind.

"I know who that old lady is. Is she the same one you boys tried to help across, each time?"

"Could be."

"Maybe."

"All old ladies look alike."

"Probably."

Sheriff Duffy said, "Well, if she shows up again, call me and I'll come on over and get her. Don't try to help her across the street. Remember what she looks like. She's done this before and she'll keep doing it. That's Crazy Lefty. She was thrown out of scouts when she was a kid and she's still mad about it. She used to be a man. After she got her sex change, she was a pros..er.. fallen woman who hung out at this corner. Last year, Sam Drapper had this corner for his scouts. I think he ended up paying her to stay away. You gotta understand, she doesn't have anything else to do but come down and hassle scouts."

Crazy Lefty came by later, but Hank was on the phone as soon as he spied her. All was quiet after that. The boys were able to help Hank's grandma across the street, several times.

At the Boy Scout Merit Badge Banquet, a happy time was had by all, as they were each, in turn, called up to receive their HOLATS badges.

The phlebotomist warily walked into the room. The patient, inside, was well known for being a tough draw who didn't like to have blood drawn. In fact, he was known for flinging things at the phlebotomists whenever he saw them. She didn't know if he flung stuff at the doctor. She often wondered, since it was the doctor who ordered the lab draws.

The patient was lying on his side, wide awake, tv remote in his hand, staring right at her. He screamed and threw the remote at her, but it was hardly the strong throw from the week before. That time, he had hit her in the forehead, causing the skin to break and bruise.

"Now, now, Mr. Jasper," she admonished. "The doc ordered the blood draw and it's my job to follow those orders."

She set down her tray and pulled out the tourniquet she would wrap around his arm as the first step.

"We can do this the hard way, or the easy way. It's your choice. If you don't let me draw from your arm, I can and will stab this needle into your stomach and while you're trying to get the needle out, I'll manage to draw from the arm vein. We've gone through this before. You have to stay still and not move or the pain inflicted will be much worse than it should be, do you understand?"

Not realizing that the pain created, if she stabbed him in the stomach, would probably cause him to thrash around and would make it much more difficult to draw blood, Mr. Jasper stared at her with fright in his eyes. He nodded his head to show he understood.

"Good," she said, and wrapped the tourniquet around his arm. She swabbed the vein area with an iodine alcohol mix and put the needle together. She looked at him, he looked at her.

"I mean it," she advised him in a soft mean voice.

She looked at the lab requisition and saw that she needed several tubes, today. She gently inserted the needle in his vein and drew the required tubes. Pulling the needle out and taping a bandage to the draw site, she asked, "that wasn't so bad, now was it?"

Mr. Jasper just nodded his head.

The phlebotomist left the room to go on to the next patient.
Felicia at the nurses station had been waiting for her call for help. Anytime blood draws were needed, they had to hold Mr. Jasper down because he threw things at anybody who came into the room, even his wife. He hated everyone.

"Do you need help with Jasper?" asked Felicia.

"Naw, piece of cake. He must like me," replied the smirking phlebotomist.

Bart Blumberg – 1992

“Bart Blumberg called,” said Eric when Donny got home. It was after eleven. He’d followed Mike back to his house.

Donny gave him a puzzled look. “Who?”

Eric was sitting in the living room watching the late news. It was his first night home before midnight, but he was still too wound up to go to sleep. “Bart Blumberg. He called right after you left.”

“Never heard of him.” Donny went into his room and peeled off his shirt. He was still a little sweaty even after his quick shower at Mike’s. He pulled on some sweats, went to the kitchen for a glass of ice water, and sat on the couch.

Eric glanced at him and grinned. “So how’s Mike?”

“Fine.”

“Guess so.” He pointed to a spot on Donny’s neck. “That’s not a spider-bite, is it?”

“Oh shit.”

“Don’t worry. Wear a turtleneck and no one will notice.”

Donny smirked. “No one wears turtlenecks anymore. They went out with Starsky & Hutch. So what does this Bloomstein guy want?”

“Blumberg. Hell if I know. He asked for you. Said you’d know what it was about and he’d call again in the morning.”

Bart Blumberg turned out to be the phone number without a name from the day before. He called at nine and asked Donny if he could get an appointment to see him at his earliest convenience. Donny told him that he didn’t need an appointment and gave him directions to the office. He said he’d be there around two.

He showed up right on time. He was a rather plump man in his mid forties with a mop of curly hair, but he was impeccably dressed right down to his shiny black oxfords and pocket handkerchief. Donny was in a plain polo shirt and somewhat wrinkled Dockers, but if Mr. Blumberg thought Donny was too casual, he didn’t give any indication. He bounced to his feet in the reception area when Donny came up the hall, and took his hand in a firm grip.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Hollenbeck.”

“Donny, please.”

“All right, Donny. Thank you for taking the time to see me.”

“Sure.” Donny suspected that Bart Blumberg was a salesman of some sort; probably microchips or wiring harnesses, and he suspected that he had gotten his name by snooping over the shoulder of one of his vendors and seeing his name on the P.O. This had happened a couple of times before, and he was able to get out of these meetings by politely informing them that he was just the purchasing manager and that he didn’t make any of the vendor decisions. He’d be glad, though, to take a catalogue and definitely keep them in mind the next time they were in the market for whatever it was that they sold. Unless the guy was persistent, Donny was able to get them out of the office without even having to sit down with them. “What can I do for you, Mr. Blumberg?”

“Bart, please. Can we talk in your office?”

“Um…sure,” Donny replied, not trying to sound too hesitant. He led him back to his cubicle, tossed a couple of empty cardboard box from the cable company out of the one guest chair, and beckoned to it. Bart sat and looked around. Donny’s area was not normally a mess, and it was spotless compared to Eric’s office, but the intensity of the last two weeks had taken its toll. Piles of printouts and test pages were stacked on the floor and the corner of the desk, and Donny’s in-basket had a collection of a week’s worth of invoices awaiting approval. Donny grinned apologetically. “It’s been kinda zooey around here the last couple of days. We just launched a software program and things are a little disorganized.”

“Perfectly understandable.”

“Thanks. So, Bart, what can I do for you?” Donny looked at him expectantly and braced himself for a sales pitch. But Bart reached in his jacket pocket, pulled out a business card, put in on the desk in front of Donny, and smiled. Donny picked up the card. It was his; one that Greg had run off, and the only one that Donny had given out: to Jim McGruder at the party at Paul Jeffries’ house.

“How did you...” Donny started to say, but Bart held up his hand, pulled out another card and put it next to the first one. This one was cream-colored on expensive card stock and engraved with only Barton R. Blumberg – Personal Representative and a phone number.

“My client is interested in learning more about your company,” Bart said softly.

Donny stared at the card for a moment. “Um…it’s not really my company. I just work here. Eric and Greg are the owners.”

“Are they available?” Bart asked, his voice still low.

“Let me check. Excuse me.” Donny got up from his desk and went to Greg’s office. He was on the phone but glanced up at Donny. Donny raised his eyebrows, and Greg finished the call.

“What’s up?”

“James McGruder’s personal representative is in my office. He says his client is interested in learning more about our company.”

“James McGruder? As in James McGruder, the actor?”

“Yeah.”

“Jesus Christ. Where’s Eric?”

“I don’t know.”

Greg grabbed his phone and beeped Eric’s extension. “Get in here.” He put the phone down, let out a low “whoo,” and smirked at Donny. “Bring him in.”

Donny went back to his office and brought Bart back. In the meantime Eric had appeared. Bart shook the twins’ hands and Greg offered him a chair. Donny, without being told, backed out of the room and closed the door. He went back to his desk and for the next half-hour or so tried to concentrate on matching packing slips with invoices. When he was done he took the stack back to Cathy’s office, passing Greg’s on the way. The door was still closed. He dropped the paperwork in Cathy’s in-basket, chatted with her for a few minutes, saying nothing about the visitor, then went back to his desk and tried to concentrate on work. The problem was that with Pelican launched and his invoices in Cathy’s office, there wasn’t much to do, so he started cleaning up, throwing out, and generally putting his cubicle back in order.

Several geological ages later the door to Greg’s office swung open and Greg escorted Bart past Donny’s area and out to the front, Bart quickly nodding at Donny as he passed by. Donny heard Greg say, “It was really nice to meet you. We’ll be in touch.” Bart said something that Donny couldn’t hear, and Greg said, “I’ll tell him.” The door opened and closed and footsteps went down the stairs. Greg came back and stood in Donny’s door. “Would you please step into my office,” he said with mock seriousness. Donny followed him.

Eric closed the door. “You big lug,” he said.

“What?”

“Why didn’t you tell us that you met James McGruder at the swanky Hollywood party you went to?”

“Didn’t think it was important.” Donny almost said that he had other things on his mind.

Greg said, “Well, just so you know – and don’t get a swelled head or anything else over this – but James McGruder was very impressed with you and he’s spent the time since then finding out about us. He’s considering investing in the company.”

“Holy shit.”

“Yeah,” said Eric. “I think I said something along those lines, too.”

“Well, now that we’ve got that out of the way,” said Greg, “we need to come up with some kind of presentation – a prospectus of some sort – so that we can show him we’re not just some fly-by-night bunch of kids with no plans for the future.”

“You mean we’re not?” said Eric.

“Not any more. We need to pull together all our financials, we need to get some kind of business plan written, and we need to show that we’re worth attracting investors who don’t love us just because we’re family. We gotta do it quick, too; I got the feeling Mr. Blumberg wants an answer in the next day or two.”

“Cathy can do all the financial stuff. She’s got it all from when we applied for the line,” Eric replied.

“Yeah, and we’ll need the lawyer.”

“What for?” asked Donny.

“To make sure we’ve got all the bases covered. Review all the documents, make sure our incorporation papers are still up to snuff, what the IRS is gonna want, all that shit, and pull it together.”

“You know anyone who can do that?” Donny asked.

Greg picked up the phone and punched in some numbers. “Yeah. Same guy who helped us set up the company.” He waited a few seconds, then said, “Yeah, hi, Holly, is he in? Thanks.” He tapped the desk idly while the call went through; picked up a pen and examined it, and then put his hand over the receiver and muttered, “Probably in the can.”

Eric poked Donny in the ribs. “You spent the evening with James McGruder and all you talked about was business?”

“He started it. He asked me what I did for a living, and I told him.”

“Did he hit on you?”

“No. He knew I was there with Mike.”

Eric shook his head. “Uh-mazing.”

Greg said into the phone, “Hi.... Not a problem. Listen, we have something we need your advice on. No, not that.” Greg listened and rolled his eyes. “No, we’re all set on that, too. Well, we have a potential investor.... Yeah, I know. Okay. Okay. Yeah, we’ll do that. Okay, see you tonight.” Greg hung up. “Okay, we’re gonna talk about it over dinner tonight, so let’s pull all the financials and the rest of that shit now. Let’s go see Cathy.”

“That was pretty quick,” said Donny, “being able to get a lawyer that fast.”

“It’s easy when it’s your dad,” said Eric.

“True. So, what can I do?”

Greg and Eric exchanged glances. “Well,” said Eric, “you got us into this, so it’s only fair that you help write the damn thing.”

“I don’t know much about business writing.”

“Neither do I, but you can write, and that puts you up on both of us. Don’t worry; I found an annual report from Apple in my office the other day. We’ll just steal from that and change the numbers.”

Donny went back to his desk. Eric followed him. “Don’t say anything to anyone about this. Not until we’re sure something’s going to happen. I don’t want everyone to get their hopes up.” Eric hesitated for a moment. “And that includes Mike.”

“Okay.”

“Insider trading and stuff. You get the idea.”

“Got it.”

Eric patted Donny on the shoulder. “Damn, Donny...you may have just made this place into something real.” Donny didn’t know what to say, so he just blushed and went back to cleaning up his office.

Chapter Guide

Labels: "Small Town Boys"

Chapter 1
Chapter 2 - Matriculation: Part 1
Chapter 2 - Matriculation: Part 2
Chapter 3 - The Search for the Ultimate Party: Part 1
Chapter 3 - The Search for the Ultimate Party: Part 2
Chapter 4 - Home, Sweet Home Part 1
Chapter 4 - Home, Sweet Home Part 2
Chapter 4 - Home, Sweet Home Part 3
Chapter 5 - Workin' For A Livin' Part 1
Chapter 5 - Workin' For A Livin' Part 2
Chapter 6 - The Thermonuclear Family Part 1
Chapter 6 - The Thermonuclear Family Part 2
Chapter 6 - The Thermonuclear Family Part 3
Chapter 7 - She Loves Me, She Loves Me Not Part 1

Other Early Adventures

Well, the rest of my high school years were pretty uneventful. I had only two more dates before graduation. I went with Judy Teel to a dance and it was okay, but she was in madly in love with David Hathaway. The only reason she even went out with me was because I knew him and she thought I could help her get in good with him. I didn't.

After that I had assorted crushes on assorted women, including Laurie Mason, the student body president, Kimberly Stinson, the homecoming queen, and Darcy and Tori, other popular girls who I had absolutely no chance with. I had no problem asking these girls out, I just had this problem with them always saying no.

This string of bad luck stretched across my Junior and Senior years. I even tried asking out a few less popular girls, but I seemed to have some kind of reputation for being a dork or something, because everybody at Leon said no. Usually seniors can date juniors or sophomores because the younger girls are impressed by the status being a senior affords. Not in my case, apparently, because everybody said no.

Finally it was time for my Senior Prom. I didn't go to the Junior Prom because I couldn't find a date. But I was going to be damned before I was going to miss the Senior Prom. I should've missed it. I went with this girl, Trish Swanson, who went to a private school. At the time I was working at Forrest Meadows Athletic Club and she was a regular customer. I used to always flirt with her and occasionally she would flirt back. The problem, and I didn't realize this until prom night, was that we had absolutely nothing in common. So the whole night was pretty much a fiasco. She was bored. I was uncomfortable. And I spent a whole lot of money on a bad date. High school sucked.

First Kiss

So there I was, a high school graduate who had never even kissed a girl. As I said, high school sucked and so did my love life. As I already told you I took four and a half years off between graduating from hell before I went to college. I moved to Beverly, Oregon, just so I could spend a little time in a town so small that it didn't even show up on a map. For the four months I lived in Beverly, I worked at Max's Famous Burgers and stayed in a boarding house run by this little old lady named Miss Johnson. Most of my time was spent between work and time at the boarding house where I did lots and lots of reading. I read everything by Kurt Vonnegut, Ken Kesey, Jack Kerouac and Douglas Adams as well as various books by Truman Capote, Anthony Burgess, Jim Carroll, James Dickey, Evan Hunter and others. I learned a lot. Companionship was on the low side, though. Which would explain why I was reading a lot of Anais Nin and A.N. Roquelare at the time.

Then I met Lena.

Lena Farrell began working at Max's Famous Burgers about a month after I did. We kind of hit it off right away and we flirted a lot while when we were at work. One night we were talking on the job and I told her that there was nothing to do in Beverly. She contended that there was lot's to do in Beverly then proceeded to list exactly zero things to do in that typically idyllic example of small town Americana that was Beverly. Then she told me that the state fair was coming to Beverly and I nearly had an orgasm, being so delighted at the possibility of an actual event in the burgeoning non-metropolis that was crushing my spirit with its complete and total banality. Then and there we made a date to go to the Oregon State Fair. Oooooohhhh!!!

Well we went to the fair the following Friday night and actually had quite a good time. Me doing my best cynical-but-lovable-high-school-graduate-with-a-crappy-job-shtick and her putting on her I-like-this-guy-but-I-can't-let-him-know-it facade. It was your typical young-people-playing-mental-games-with-each-other type of date and we both enjoyed it. Then I drove her back to her place to drop her off. We got out of the car and stood in the cool, crisp Oregon air talking about this and that without actually saying anything. Then, out of the blue, she grabbed the back of my head and pulled my mouth to hers and kissed me. Kissed me hard and long. Kissed me soft and wet. Kissed me till my toes curled up and jeans had to be readjusted. I thought we were done kissing and I went to pull back. She held the back of my head tight and pulled my lips back to hers and said "Don't pull away from me!" This was a woman in charge! Woo-Hoo! I was excited.

Then things got screwy.

We worked together for a couple of hours each day. She worked day shift and I worked night shift at Max's, so there was a two-hour overlap as her shift ended and mine began. Seeing as I didn't have a whole lot to do in Beverly, I would go over to her house most nights after work and hang out. She lived in a one bedroom apartment pretty much right across Highway 17 from Max's.

For the first week or so, everything was fine. We got along well. We had fun. There wasn't a whole lot to do in Beverly, let me pound that idea into your head. We played cards (rummy). We watched television (crap). We made out (a little).

By the time the weekend came around, though, things began to change. Lena was cold towards me for no particular reason. We didn't make out any more. We didn't talk much. I didn't know why. Then we had "the talk."

You know about "the talk." Everybody has "the talk." It's the talk where she tells you what things she will put up with or won't put up with. "The Talk" always occurs at the beginning of a relationship and it's never fun. For me this time was worse. Out of the blue, Lena told me that she knew why I was dating her. She knew that I was only after sex and that she wasn't going to put up with being used.

The fact that I only wanted Lena for sex was news to me. I hadn't even thought about sex with her yet. Well I had thought about it, but I hadn't tried to get it or planned to get it or even expected it. I was happy just to kiss her. I told her so. She didn't buy it. I didn't know I was selling it. I was just telling the truth, but she had heard it from a friend who heard it from a friend who told her that I was only out for one thing and that thing wasn't nice. I, however, was clueless as to my own intentions.

Anyway, that night I left Lena's place after a short but not-so-sweet argument about what I wanted from her. She ended up telling me that we could still date but that I couldn't have sex with her until we had dated for six months. I said thanks. Thanks a whole heck of a lot.

Needless to say I wasn't happy with being given this ultimatum for no particular reason. Or on the word of someone else. Someone who couldn't possibly know anything about me. No one in Beverly knew anything about me. It was enough to make you want to kill someone. But who?

I found out the next night. After work I went home instead of going to Lena's house. I was still a bit angry at her as well as my unknown assailant. I was sitting home alone, re-reading The Catcher in the Rye for about the dozenth time. Great book. I was at the part where Holden breaks the record he bought for his little sister when the phone in my room rang.

It was this girl from work, Crystal. I had met her a few times, but I kinda had gotten this wild vibe from her. Not wild in a good way, but rather wild in a Glenn Close-Fatal Attraction-sorta way. I always get really good vibes from people. These vibes are rarely ever wrong. They definitely weren't wrong with Crystal. She was a nut.

It turns out that Crystal had a crush on me. She was calling to ask me out. I told her that I couldn't go out with her because I was sorta dating Lena. She didn't take the hint. It wasn't even a hint, I straight out told her no, because I was dating Lena. But Crystal went on talking to me like I didn't even say anything. We talked for a while that night and she kept calling for a couple of days and repeating the whole escapade. Kinda boring.

Later that week I saw Lena again. The shit hit the fan. She was still mad at me about the "I-only-wanted-her-for-her-body" thing and was acting kinda sullen. Then she told me that she heard that I had been talking on the phone with Crystal. I was sorta flabbergasted. I hadn't told her. Crystal must have told her. We were the only two who knew.

Lena told me that Crystal had been bragging to her that we had been talking on the phone. She apparently forgot to tell Lena that I had done none of the actual calling, so Lena thought it was my fault. I tried to tell Lena that Crystal was a deranged lunatic and that she was the one calling me, but Lena wasn't having it. I guess Lena was a bit deranged as well. There must be something in the water of Beverly.

Out of the blue, Lena tells me that I have to tell Crystal to stop calling me or she's going to break up with me. First she won't believe me when I tell her that Crystal is doing all the calling on the telephone, now she's telling me that I need to make Crystal stop calling me. First she tells me that we can't have sex for six months because somebody told her that I was only interested in her for sex, now she tells me who I can or can't talk to on the phone. Enough!

Well that was the last time I ever saw Lena. I told her that I didn't want to see her anymore. She started screaming and yelling at me and telling me that I was going to be crawling back to her some day. It was all very “Days of Our Lives.” Oddly enough, I never crawled back to her. Psycho bitch.

As for the other psycho bitch, Crystal, I never talked to her again, either. I figured out that it was Crystal that told Lena I was only interested in her for sex. Maybe those two do this to a lot of guys. Maybe it's some elaborate plan they have worked out together. It's scary.

I had Miss Johnson disconnect my phone line. I quit working at Max's the next day. I had a little money saved up, so I just kinda coasted for the next week and then I decided it was time to go. I moved to Pearl City.

Feel Like Makin' Love

So there I was, an eighteen-year-old high school graduate, jobless, in a new (Pearl) city and the world's oldest living virgin. Over the next three and a half years, very little happened as far as my love life was concerned. In fact, I would go as far as to say that for the next three and a half years nothing happened as far as my love life was concerned. I worked. I traveled. I read. And I returned to Pearl City. I had a few dates here and there, but nothing serious. Mostly, I didn't have a whole lot of time or money to spend on women. I was fulfilling many of my dreams. Going wherever and doing (almost) whatever I wanted to do. It was great. But it got lonely.

Between the time I lived in Beverly and when I started college in Pearl City only one event of any importance occurred in my love life. I lost my virginity. No big whoop. It was just like one of those 80s movies where the teenager went to spring break in Florida looking for just the right woman to lose his virginity to. Well, any woman to lose his virginity to. Then hijinks ensue and finally the guy loses his virginity. Well, that's pretty much what happened to me.

In 1993 I went to spring break in Panama City Beach, Florida with some guys from the Pearl City Gym where I worked. Brent and Mickey were two wild and crazy guys who I occasionally partied with. We all decided to go to Florida and visit the Spring Break Capitol of the World for a week. Okay, it hadn't earned that title yet, but it was still one of America's major spring break hot spots. (This message was brought to you by a subsidiary from the Panama City Beach Tourism Council).

While we were there we hit all the usual spots: La Vela, Spinnaker, Miracle Strip, Shipwreck Island, Sharkey's, etc. By Thursday of the week, I was getting a bit tired of going to La Vela and Spinnaker every night and wanted to go to this party at the Howard Johnson's next to La Vela that I had heard about on the radio. Brent and Mickey still wanted to go to La Vela so we amicably split up.

The Howard Johnson's was right on the beach a few buildings down from La Vela and Spinnaker. Behind the hotel there was a huge deck overlooking the ocean. On the deck a D.J. was playing dance music while two bars were set up to meet the beverage-related needs of the party-going consumers.

When I got to the deck, hundreds of people had crowded onto the deck and were dancing and drinking the night away to "Paul Revere" by the Beastie Boys. I grabbed myself a plastic pitcher of beer from the nearest bartender and headed out into the mating arena, searching for Miss Right.

I didn't find her. Instead I found one of my best friends from high school, Nate. He was over from Tallahassee to party down. We slid off the dance floor so that we could catch up on old times.

Nate was attending Tallahassee Community College and working in his father's hardware store. He had just got into town with a bunch of his friends, many of whom had also went to Leon High. I was eager to see who all was in town. I hadn't seen any of the fellas since graduation. Nate led the way to their room inside the Howard Johnson's. I followed slowly, keeping my eyes peeled for Miss Right.

When we walked into Nate's room, two things immediately struck me about the party that was happening within. First of all, there were only two women in the room (compared to about twelve guys). Second, one of them, Chrissy Tomberlin, was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen in my life.

As it turned out, none of the Leon guys that had come with Nate were guys I really knew that well. That made it easier to try and get to know Chrissy.

Nate introduced me to everyone in the room that he knew. His friend Chris, whom I recognized, then introduced the other people in the room. Chris had met the other people at Spinnaker two nights earlier and they became fast friends. Among the three people Nate didn't know were the two women, including Chrissy, who smiled at me when we were introduced. He shoots, he scores!

The party went on. Nate mingled with his friends old and new and I did my best to get as close to Chrissy as possible and to find my way into any conversation she was having. I was masterful. I used witty comments and brilliant retorts to dazzle this beautiful woman. I was damn smooooooooth.

Needless to say, we spent the rest of the evening talking amongst ourselves. Chrissy and I pretty much separated ourselves from the rest of the party and got to know each other pretty well. After a while it started getting late and I mentioned to Chrissy that I didn't have a place to stay. I told her that I would have to cut our conversation short so I could go find a place to sleep. She told me not to bother. I could stay in her room.

In retrospect, I'm sure she thought that I was using some kind of line on her. Trying to get into her room so that I could try to get into her pants. I really wasn't. However, I'm not upset that in the end that's exactly what happened. But she wanted it just as much as I did.

We hopped into Chrissy's car and headed to her motel. She was staying with the other girl and guy that were at the party at the Motel California several miles down the strip from the Howard Johnson's. Chrissy's friends weren't ready to leave the party yet and said that they would find their own way back to the motel. It took us an hour and a half to drive to the motel, so we talked.

Most of our talk that night was minor chit-chat. Typical stuff that people just getting to know each other talk about. An interesting fact about Chrissy is that she is a big fan of frogs. She had little plastic frogs all over the car. She said she had a huge frog collection back home in Tallahassee. She said she even had a frog tattoo right below her bikini line (happiest damn frog I’ve ever seen). I got to see it later that night.

The most memorable thing she said to me that night was when we were in the car on our way to the Motel California. She told me that she wasn't going to go through the pretense of giving me her phone number or address so that I could not use them, especially since I lived on the other side of the continent. She said that we would go back to the motel and whatever happened happened and that their would be no guilt or strings attached.

This was an interesting concept to me. I had never had sex before, much less a one night stand. And this one night stand was being initiated by the woman. You never see that in any of those Porky's movies. I will say that it didn't bother me a bit, even though the thought hadn't crossed my mind. If I was going to lose my virginity, I had no plans to disrespect the woman by not calling her. But she didn't want me to. It made me feel very strange. Not strange enough not to go through with it, but strange nonetheless.

So we had sex. And it was good. What did you expect? I'm not going to give you all of the gory details. Let's just say I enjoyed it (duh) and she enjoyed it (thank goodness) and that's that. Well almost. We did it again. And again. Neither of us got very much sleep that night.

Even though Chrissy was one night standing me, we still spent the next day together. We went to the beach and hung out. Drank a few beers. Went back to the room and did it again. You know, the usual spring break activity. At one point when we were talking I gave her the impression that she had been my first. I was going to confirm it, but didn't when she said that it would be terrible to lose your virginity while at spring break. It wasn't. I assured her that I had sex lots of times before and we dropped the subject.

Later that day, Chrissy told me that she needed to go. She and her friends had to get back to Tallahassee because she had to go to work the next day. She kissed me and said goodbye. And that's all I have to say about that.

Meetings

You know, I'm pretty sure that you women have meetings. Ya'll get together once a week or month or whatever and discuss us guys. You exchange info about which guys are nice and which guys are jerks. About which guys have money and which guys are cheap. About which guys are good in bed and which guys are not. I'm sure about this because every time I try to ask out some girl, she already has some kind of misgivings about me. It seems like she's already been debriefed about me. This wouldn't be a problem, except that whoever's doing the debriefing has a lot of faulty information.

Cathy

At the beginning of my freshman year at P.C.C.C. I got started real early on trying to solve my dating dilemma (meaning my lack of having anyone to date). Me and Ned and Jeff would go to lots of parties and clubs and bars and wherever else we could think to go where women would be present. Early that year I went to a party at the house of a friend of a friend of a friend. That's where I met Cathy. In fact it turns out that the party was at Cathy's house, and as as she was the hostess, I was introduced to her. She was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen before. She looked a lot like that actress Jennifer Tilly, who was in Made in America and Liar Liar. Let's just say she was very attractive.

The party was going on like a typical college party. Everyone was drinking and talking and doing whatever. Then somebody came up with the brilliant idea to play “Truth or Dare.” A little high school I thought, but what the heck. I didn't really know anybody at the party other than Ned and Jeff, and they were busy with women of their own. It would be a great way for me to meet a woman or two. Boy was I right.

I was wearing a pair of jeans that had a huge rip across the thigh of one leg. Not exactly in style, but it was wash day the next day. I had nothing else clean. I strategically chose a seat next to our hostess, Cathy. The game went on uneventfully for a while until it was Cathy's turn. She chose dare. A female friend of hers dared her to stick her hand into my jeans through the rip and move it up toward my crotch as far as it would go. She went pretty far. Schwing!

Then it was my turn and I also chose dare. My dare was to lean over to Cathy and french kiss her for at least a minute. If I was sober I probably wouldn't have done it, but I wasn't sober and I did it. I think if Cathy were completely sober she probably wouldn't have done it either, but she was and she did.

So I kissed her. My hungry lips met hers and my eager tongue forced its way into the wetness of her mouth. She resisted at first, but my passion overcame her futile resistance. Cathy couldn't help but surrender to her body's unqeunched desire and my need to quench that desire. Our tongues met and an electric shock hit both of us. It began in our mouths and flowed throughout the rest of our bodies, coming to rest only in her loins and my groin. Or something like that. I never said I was a romance novelist.

We kissed. And it was good. Cathy was apparently as attracted to me as I was to her because she returned my kiss as long as I kissed her. And I had no intentions of stopping such a wonderful thing. One of her friends, however, thought that we had had enough and said so. I pulled my lips away from Cathy's and stared into her eyes as we moved apart. I saw something in her eyes that I had only seen once before. Panama City Beach on spring break. I knew I was in for a good evening.

I ended up spending the night at her house that night. No I didn't take advantage of her. She was way too drunk to for me to try anything (I was also too drunk to try anything). We made out a little (a lot) and went to bed. We hung out (ate breakfast) a little while the next day. The only moment that really stands out in my mind is when Cathy played the song "Memory" (from Cats) on the piano for me. It sticks in my mind because it is such a beautiful song and she played it so beautifully. No one else had ever created music just for me before. It made me feel like crying for a second. Then the feeling went away. And then she took me home.

The next day (Sunday), things got crazy like they always do for me. This guy, Greg, that I knew from work had been at the party Friday night. For some unknown reason, he told Cathy that I was only interested in her for sex (deja vu). Again this struck me as really odd. I had never been interested in a woman just for sex. Never was. Never will be. But here was a second occasion where I had to defend myself against charges that I was. It's enough to drive you nuts.

Well, we got into a big argument about it and I ended up hanging up on Cathy when she called me a liar. I don't even really remember why she called me a liar, but that's one thing I can't stand is to be called a liar. I do my best to always tell the truth and when someone calls me a liar, especially when I'm not lying, it pisses me off. That pretty much ended my short relationship with Cathy. Women don't like being hung up on. She didn't call back. Neither did I.

Next time I saw Greg at work, he rushed up to me and apologized. He said that he didn't really mean what he had said to Cathy. He was drunk and was trying to hit on her. When he saw that she was interested in me, he lied. He regretted it afterward. I told him not to worry about it, that it was okay. It wasn't.

Loneliness is the Weekend

I used to love the weekend. No more school. No more work. No more hiding from those jerks. But back then my world didn't extend much beyond my bedroom. Now that I've joined the human race, I don't much like weekends, especially weekends alone.

Jessie

I've found that my personality reaches to both extremes. When I fall for a girl, I really fall for her and am totally in love with her. So much so that I become blinded to her faults right up to the point that she breaks my heart. And when I am in love with a girl, even if I realize that the girl isn't perfect, I treat her as if she were. However, when the relationship ends, I have almost no feeling for that person anymore. I become cold, distant and feel little remorse. This coldness of mine extends to friends and family members I've lost as well. I love people when they are around, but I rarely miss them once they have left me. In fact, this is true for almost everyone I've ever really known. I wasn't always like this, in fact I used to remain in love with a girl long after she would dump me. That happened so many times when I was in high school that I can't even count them. It always happened when I couldn't have a girl I was interested. It always happened. Then I met Jessie. . .

During my freshman year, I met Jessie. She was the most beautiful girl I had ever seen. And here's the strange part, she had some kind of interest in me, too! I met her during Rush Week at Lambda Lambda Lambda, my fraternity. She was a rush for the Omega Mu sorority and we met at a joint Lambda-Omega dance party. The function was held on January 31 and was a Welcome Back to School Party. Jessie was actually a friend of my friend Brad's female friend Stacy. Stacy introduced us and Jessie and I danced and talked for most of the night. We had really hit it off.

Late in the evening, all of the Lambda pledges had to go do some stupid initiation song for the older brothers and I lost track of Jessie and apparently she had left for the evening. I was quite upset that this wonderful girl that I had met had disappeared on me. Not that I was blaming her, but I would have at least said good night to her. Of course, I wanted to ask her for her phone number as well, but I didn't get the chance.

As luck would have it, I ran into Jessie later that week on campus. We chatted for a few minutes, but we both had to run to class so it didn't last for very long. She did say, however, that she was going to the Lambda-Omega Valentines Day Party and that she hoped she would see me there. Of course, I told her I would be there.

Being the dimwit that I often am, I didn't think to ask her for her phone number that day. Nor did it cross my mind that I could have asked Stacy for her number. But I didn't and as it turns out, it really didn't matter.

Over the next week, I thought about Jessie often and how I could go about trying to really impress her at the Valentine's party. I enlisted Jeff, who was also a Lambda pledge, as my accomplice and we put my top secret love plan into motion. It was guaranteed not to fail.

The Valentine's party was held at the Lambda house and the brothers had decided that each of the Omega ladies that came to the party would be given a carnation and escorted from the house's foyer into the dance hall by one of the pledges. This fit into my plan perfectly and when Jessie arrived, I made sure that I was her escort. We made a little bit of small talk, but soon had to part because the night's show was about to begin.

Each of the brothers and pledges of Lambda Lambda Lambda was auctioned to one of the ladies of Omega Mu. We stood on a stage in front of the crowd and told the ladies a little about ourselves and the ladies who were interested would put in bids. The highest bidder won that gentleman as her date for the evening. All of the money we raised was donated to the Pearl City Big Brothers/Big Sisters mentoring program. Most of the guys already knew most of the Omegas, so the bidding went pretty well and we made close to seven hundred dollars. I gave Stacy enough money to make sure that she would be the highest bidder on me so that I would be free to spend my time that evening with Jessie.

Immediately after the auction, the DJ began playing slow music so that the newly auctioned brothers could get to know the Omegas who had bought them. I quickly made my way to Jessie's side and asked her to dance. She said yes and we made our way to the dance floor. Unbeknownst to Jessie, Jeff hovered nearby holding the keys to my incredibly, and might I say inventive, romantic plan.

We began to dance, the song was "End of the Road," by Boyz II Men, if I remember correctly. Seconds after the song started, I stopped dancing and stepped away from Jessie. "I can't do this. It's not right," I said. She was terribly perplexed at this point. "Something's missing," I continued. At that moment Jeff, who was standing behind Jessie, handed me the dozen roses, Valentine's card and heart-shaped box of candies that I had bought in order to surprise Jessie. I gave them to her and she exploded in delight. The smile on her face made my heart melt right there on the spot. She hugged me and gave me a kiss on the cheek before she realized that everyone was watching us. Jessie began to blush and grabbed hold of my hand, pulling me off the dance floor.

She told me that she was totally embarrassed and that she wanted to kill me. But she wouldn't (or couldn't) stop grinning and I could tell she was really enjoying the whole romantic atmosphere I was doing my damnedest to create. For the rest of the evening she and I were the only people that existed in the whole world. We danced and talked and danced some more and talked some more. At the end of the evening, I read her this poem that I had memorized. It was from a book called Poems for the People, by a guy (one of my favorite authors) who calls himself Ike Krull. It is called "First Kiss" and it goes a little something like this:

You know I want you
I hope you want me, too
If we were together
There are so many things we could do

The most important thing is not your touch
But, rather, your heart that means so much
I'm not asking for lover's bliss

I'm just asking for that first kiss

Yeah, I know. It's really corny. But it worked. She leaned over and kissed me! And slipped me her phone number.

For the next month we went out a number of times: we went to dinner, we volunteered together at the Special Olympics, we went and saw the hilarious movie, Maverick. I called her on the phone every night and gave her roses all the time. We officially became a "couple." And everything seemed to be going great. But then again, I always thing that everything is going great. It never is.

One day when I was at work and the bad news arrived. The problem with Jessie is that she didn't have the guts to tell me herself. Or call me on the phone. Or write me a letter. Instead she had Stacy tell me. Stacy stopped by my work place and told me that Jessie wanted to break up with me. Something about still not being over some guy that she had just broke up with (Stacy later told me that "just" meant three years ago, it turned out that Jessie was obsessed with this guy, Ryan). I was crushed. In just one short month I had completely fallen in love with Jessie. Apparently the feeling wasn't mutual.

I guess that my biggest fault in this relationship was that I was too eager and maybe I came on too strong. What's wrong with that. I just wanted to fall in love, the kind of love you see in movies, where the couple falls for each other right away and they get together. Then after a rocky period, they live happily ever after. I just want to be loved. Is that so wrong?

Like I said earlier, I usually have no feelings for people after a relationship ends. But for some reason, Jessie was different. I fell in love with her and the feeling lingered for two years. Everybody I went out with, I would compare with Jessie. More often than not, however, I didn't go out with anyone, because I just wanted to feel sorry for myself. My feelings began to change when I learned more and more about Jessie from Stacy. I learned that Jessie was actually a very childish person and that I had wasted too much of my heart on her. Stacy told me that she was out dating several other guys almost immediately after we broke up. At first I didn't want to hear such things, but eventually I had to, because I actually saw her and one of these guys. I ran into her and an ex-friend of mine, Paul the bastard, at a dance one night. Lets just say that it was obvious that they were more than just friends. After that night, I no longer mourned over the person I had lost, because the person I was in love with was never really the person I had dated. I was just blind to the fact that she wasn't the picture perfect person that I had hoped she would be when first she entered my life.

Meanwhile, me and Stacy got to be pretty good friends. In addition to my situation with Jessie, Stacy and I would often talk about her interest in Brad. She really was interested in Brad, but wasn't so sure that the feeling was mutual. Mostly I just told her that she needed to say the things to Brad that she was saying to me. She did but it didn't work out. At least she tried, though. You know, I actually had a small crush on Stacy for a while, but it was never anything I would have pursued, because of her friendship with Jessie. But it might have been nice.

P.S. About a year after I saw Jessie with Paul, she tried to get me to go out with her again. She kept showing up at Lambda functions and dropping by wherever I would be working at the time (as you will learn later, I switched jobs frequently during my college tenure) and flirting with me mercilessly. Seeing as how I had already had my heart thrashed by her once and that she hadn't really changed much, I turned her down and let her know that the likelihood of me ever dating her again was nonexistent. I had learned my lesson concerning Jessie Brandon.

The List

On one of my favorite episodes of the cheesy sitcom "Friends," the characters mention the List. Only people in relationships have need of the List. The List is five famous people, of your choice, who you are allowed to sleep with and your boyfriend or girlfriend has to allow it and they can't get mad at you. Of course, on the show, it was just a joke, but think of the possibilities for real life. Okay so, I'm just dreaming here, but I think it would be cool. I know that if any couple agreed to actually making lists the guy would take it serious and the woman would take it as a joke, so by extension, the guy would have to take it as a joke as well. My personal list is, in no particular order, Amy Locane, Jennifer Anniston, Gwyneth Paltrow, Kelly Preston, and Liz Phair (if you don't understand this last choice, listen to the song "Flower"). Yes, I realize that it's highly unlikely that any of these women would ever sleep with a guy who would put their name on a list like this, but I can dream, can't I?

P.S. My Cousin Richie's list consists of Cheryl Tiegs, Iman, Sandra Bernhard, Rosie O'Donnell and Rosanne Barr, er-Arnold, er-whatever the hell her name is!

Donna

Don't rebound relationships suck? Even really short ones. I mean here you are all broken down and sad and some other woman comes along to add further to your misery. Rebound relationships never last. And if they do, they're never good.

Several months after my traumatic break-up with Jessie I met Donna Camp. She was another Omega Mu and we met at a joint function that May of that year. It was sort of a Spring Fling kinda thing. I was still feeling kinda bad about the whole Jessie Brandon affair and I was moping around all depressed and sad. For some unfathomable reason Donna Camp decided to change that.

The funny thing is that it was Jessie who introduced us. I was on campus one day and ran into Jessie and Donna between classes. They knew each other from the sorority and were on their way to class. Jessie introduced us, but I didn't really pay much attention to Donna because at the time I was so infatuated with Jessie. I guess Donna was attracted to me though, because the first opportunity she had after she met me, she did her best to make me like her.

At the Spring Fling I was kinda just hanging out, being a wallflower. Donna kept coming up to me and asking me to dance. The first few times I said no, but she kept at it and finally I said yes. As we made our way to the dance floor, Jessie came in with this bastard Paul. If she was supposed to still be hung up on this Ryan guy, why the hell was she on a date with that bastard Paul. Donna and I ignored the two of them. They headed straight for the dance floor in the general area that we were standing. I wanted to leave. Jessie was driving me crazy. The whole vibe of the evening was a bit on the shitty side, but we danced anyway.

For the rest of the evening I danced with Donna and pretty much ignored Jessie and that bastard Paul. Donna kept trying to make me laugh all night long, but I wasn't in a laughing mood. Then she started calling me Kissyfur. Now I don't know why that struck me as funny, but I laughed. That was a mistake because she kept calling me that. Every time she said it I blushed, so she kept on saying it.

Well we didn't have any run-ins with the bitch and the bastard, we just spent the rest of the evening dancing and talking and laughing. Then the dance was over and Donna had to leave. We exchanged phone numbers and parted with a small kiss. I went upstairs to sleep in one of the empty beds in the frat house and fell asleep with a smile on my face.

But things quickly got difficult as they often do with me. When I called her the next day, she informed me that she had a boyfriend. Worse than that, this idiot's name was Bubba and he treated her like shit. She wouldn't leave him, though, she was still in love with him. It seems that she lost her virginity to him and so she would always be in love with Bubba. Can you imagine losing your virginity to a guy named Bubba. "Oh, give it to me, Bubba." "Ride me, Bubba." Me neither. Besides the fact that just because she lost her virginity to this nimrod she shouldn't have to put up with him treating her like shit. Some girls are just plain dumb.

I asked her why she had kissed me and flirted with me and come on so strong when she had Bubba waiting for her at home. She told me that she had done it because it seemed like the thing to do. Let me repeat that because it sounds vaguely idiotic. It seemed like the thing to do. So here I am, a guy who just had his heart broken by this heartless bitch and now some new heartless bitch is going to lead me on and do it all over again. Yeah, to me, that seems like the thing to do, too. Needless to say, I didn't call her again.

Sometimes, You Just Gotta Say What the Fuck

You always hear that college is the time when you are supposed to experiment. Try new things. Learn more about yourself. I never knew how true that was until one night with Kristy Harden and a bottle of rum showed me the extent to which I would experiment.

My sophomore year at P.C.C.C., I was a writer for the school newspaper, the Talon. In October of that year we went to the state journalism convention in Seattle. I had no idea what was going to happen at the convention other than that there would be workshops and an awards banquet. There also ended up being a lot of drinking and a lot of sex.

The convention was to last two nights and at the end of the first night, me and Kristy and a bunch of other people went upstairs to her room to party. Their were two other P.C.C.C. students with us. Mandy, Kristy's roommate for the weekend, and Sam, who was mine. Additionally, Kristy, who is a real social bug, invited four other guys who were from Seattle.

A couple of the guys ran to the liquor store and picked up a couple of 1.75 liter bottles of Bacardi Spiced Rum and a whole mess of Coke. When they got back we started getting ripped. And we continued to get ripped well into the evening. Last time I remember looking at the clock, it was after 4 a.m.

By that time most of the people had left the room. The only people left were me, Kristy, Mandy and this guy John (one of the Seattle guys). It was late, we were drunk and everybody was in a high state of horniness. Clothes began to fly. Kristy asked us to fulfill one of her fantasies - to be with two men. We had no problem fulfilling this request. Mandy, who had a fiance back home, didn't participate, but she had absolutely no problem watching. In fact, I'm pretty damn sure she enjoyed it.

So me and John are doing our best to pleasure Kristy when all of a sudden I feel someone proceeding to give me oral pleasure. Now I was currently kissing Kristy and I could still see Mandy sitting on her bed watching (and helping herself to a little pleasure). That only left one person. John.

This was definitely something I was unprepared for. My first threesome and the guy is doing things to me I never intended for any guy to do. Strange thing was, it felt good. Really good. So I didn't stop him. Luckily that's all he wanted to do. I had absolutely no intention of returning the favor. But, when he was doing it, it really didn't feel that much different from when a woman does it.

Afterwards, I felt really weird about it, kinda guilty even. I made sure to give Kristy a couple of orgasms to re-assert my manhood. I felt a little better after that, but I still felt strange. I felt like I had crossed some kind of line that I wasn't supposed to cross, which I guess was true. It didn't really bother me that much that I had let him do it, what bothered me was what other people would think if they knew. Then I realized that there would be no way for anyone to find out about it, so I stopped worrying about it.

I can't say that I didn't enjoy it, though, he did a really good job. I severely doubt I would ever do it again. I know I would never initiate such a thing, but I guess if we were in a similar situation, I might let someone else do the same thing. I still wouldn't reciprocate, though. I'm purely attracted to the beauty that is woman.