Wednesday, May 03, 2006
On my Own
There comes a time in everyone's life when they realize they are on their own. Even though I am in my late 20's now, I have friends who have failed to realize this concept. They are serial monogomists. I have one friend who has dated, non-stop, for the last 12 years. I've known him for about 10 of those years and I can say, with almost distinct certainty, that he has been single for three days in the last decade.
It started off innocently enough. He came to college with a high school sweetheart. For our sake, let's call her "controlling-psycho-bitch-who-was-constantly-PMSing." So contolling-psycho-bitch-who-was-constantly-PMSing would be on the phone with our protagonist for anywhere from 2-6 hours a night. Regardless of what we were doing: conversing, drinking, playing cards, watching a movie, etc.-- life would stand still for him. It was mind-boggling to us all, but he was our friend, our pussy-whipped-into-utter-submission friend. So we let it go...YEAH RIGHT! That guy spent 4 hours on the phone being told what clothes to wear the next day and then the next 4 hours being lambasted by his closest friends for being told what clothes to wear the next day. When they broke up, they're was cause for celebration throughout the land. Finally, it was time for the wicked witch to have the house dropped on her.
So what does male Dorothy do? He drinks, excessively. Puts his hand through a glass encasing a fire hydrant and is run to the hospital. A day later, a new girl appeared in my dorm room. She was part of our "college crew" and the three of us would spend hours lying awake in our room debating the issues of the day. Such as who's-fucking-who and which shitty fraternity we should hit that weekend.
Now during this time, I assumed life was going to improve for our male Dorothy. After all, he-she was a good looking dude and could bed half the campus if that was his desire. So the fact that our friend, who looked like a cracked-out munchkin, was sleeping in his bed didn't bother me. No way would he fuck her with MY dick. And I was right. He wasn't fucking her. Every night, after I went to bed, she would go down on him. He wouldn't kiss her or "please her back", she would just "finish him off" before bedtime. For 8 months, I thought Dorothy was finding himself, learning to be on his own, when in fact, he found another co-dependent to share some one-way fluid exchange. A bedtime blowjob to welcome Mr. Sandman.
And I don't even think it was the oral pleasure in which he delighted. Rather, it was the fact that another warm body was close to him, was helping him cope with life. After that ended, there was a parade of women, and he lives with another one now. Maybe they'll get married and then he'll never learn that he has to be on his own.
It started off innocently enough. He came to college with a high school sweetheart. For our sake, let's call her "controlling-psycho-bitch-who-was-constantly-PMSing." So contolling-psycho-bitch-who-was-constantly-PMSing would be on the phone with our protagonist for anywhere from 2-6 hours a night. Regardless of what we were doing: conversing, drinking, playing cards, watching a movie, etc.-- life would stand still for him. It was mind-boggling to us all, but he was our friend, our pussy-whipped-into-utter-submission friend. So we let it go...YEAH RIGHT! That guy spent 4 hours on the phone being told what clothes to wear the next day and then the next 4 hours being lambasted by his closest friends for being told what clothes to wear the next day. When they broke up, they're was cause for celebration throughout the land. Finally, it was time for the wicked witch to have the house dropped on her.
So what does male Dorothy do? He drinks, excessively. Puts his hand through a glass encasing a fire hydrant and is run to the hospital. A day later, a new girl appeared in my dorm room. She was part of our "college crew" and the three of us would spend hours lying awake in our room debating the issues of the day. Such as who's-fucking-who and which shitty fraternity we should hit that weekend.
Now during this time, I assumed life was going to improve for our male Dorothy. After all, he-she was a good looking dude and could bed half the campus if that was his desire. So the fact that our friend, who looked like a cracked-out munchkin, was sleeping in his bed didn't bother me. No way would he fuck her with MY dick. And I was right. He wasn't fucking her. Every night, after I went to bed, she would go down on him. He wouldn't kiss her or "please her back", she would just "finish him off" before bedtime. For 8 months, I thought Dorothy was finding himself, learning to be on his own, when in fact, he found another co-dependent to share some one-way fluid exchange. A bedtime blowjob to welcome Mr. Sandman.
And I don't even think it was the oral pleasure in which he delighted. Rather, it was the fact that another warm body was close to him, was helping him cope with life. After that ended, there was a parade of women, and he lives with another one now. Maybe they'll get married and then he'll never learn that he has to be on his own.
