I have to admit, finally exercising the relationship demons after 6 long years feels pretty liberating - akin to how I felt when I received my very first work check, or the way I feel immediately after taking rather busy bowel movements nowadays. A proverbial weight was lifted off of my shoulders, and as soon as I started to realize that I was no longer damaged goods to the next kind woman who let me clumsily thrust inside of her - my ex happened to comment on the very blog where I had just openly admitted to the world that it had taken me a presidential term and a half to get over her. Man, its one thing to dedicate entire posts to my myth ruining unimpressive penis and my pre-ejaculatory ways to a bunch of fucking strangers - but when the subject of one of your diatribes reads your innermost thoughts, to quote Martin Lawrence in "Bad Boys 2", "Shit just got real!" I'm not embarrassed though, maybe something good will come out of her knowing that I haven't been myself since 2001 - only a shell of the man that I once was, akin to a soldier who just returned from a gruesome war or a recently released prisoner who for some reason only wants to fuck his wife in the ass - OK, maybe no good can come from it but at least she knows how I really feel.
Anyway, with a new lease on life and feeling that I just paid off my "karma debt" in terms of relationships - I threw back a shot of Jack Daniels and proceeded to go to the residence of a woman I met last week.
My 12th Date: "The Trailer-Park Chick": When I first started blogging I quickly realized that it was a rather cathartic process, I'm certain that being able to bare my soul like a foot fetish has added 10 years to my life - but I'd be lying if I told you that I didn't expect to have a vast collection of exotic looking panties from my millions of blog admirers by now. Sure, I was fully aware that being a chubby writer wasn't akin to being a rock star, my writings would never spawn a "..and then those Brazilian twins took turns blowing me while I watched the British version of "The Office" stories - but I figured that my social schedule would at least be partially filled up. You know, indiscreet "under the table" hand-jobs from an admirer at a "Blog Meet-up", making sweet love to the throat of a fellow blogger after I agreed to put her on my blogroll - sodomizing librarians on a microfiche who enjoyed my rather witty wordplay. But the funny thing about brutally honest self-deprecating humor, sure it gets you a few laughs - but women aren't exactly beating down your door hoping that you will blow their proverbial backs out, maybe calling my penis a "black myth ruiner" has something to do with that.
So you can just imagine my surprise when a friend of mine, Marie, told me that her home-girl Tamika, who she had hipped to my ramblings was intrigued by my blog and wanted to meet me. I didn't know if she was intrigued in that "wow, it's nice to meet you, you are a great writer - now beat it" sort of way, or if my online ramblings would make it possible for me to introduce her to a certain body part of mine that happens to be meatier than a midget handshake. So after a brief corresponding period, and a few of her semi-naked photo's that I beat off to like my testicles had an expiration date on them - I agreed to stop by her house to have a couple of drinks. As I pulled up to her place of residence, I tried desperately to summon my inner tree-hugging liberal - saying to myself, "Don't be a snob, a gang of people live in trailer parks nowadays - who are you to judge anyways motherfucker?"
So after I knocked on the door, I was met with a stunningly beautiful woman who stood about 5 foot 2 - wearing a top that made it seem as if her breasts were just taunting me like a school yard bully, and shorts so tiny that it made me think about Florence Griffith Joyner for some reason. She then proceeded to give me a very extended hug, with every inch of her body that is - so much in fact that it inspired my penis to speak to me for the first time ever, I looked down and he said "That's right buddy, we're fucking!!"(Should I be concerned that my penis sounds like Carrot-top?) She invited me in and we chatted it up a bit, while we discussed Hip Hop and our shared hatred of Tyler Perry and the belief that he should be stopped at all cost - I kept looking around and saying "This is a trailer? Wow - this is nice", which I'm sure is no different from a white person telling me how "articulate" I am.
A few of her friends unexpectedly stopped by so we decided to all hang out on the porch, drinking beers, having a good time - and within the course of an hour I had met over 20 of her neighbors. They all seemed to be pretty good people, but as I listened to all the stories that people had and how each person in attendance had recurring roles in said stories - that's when I felt like I was stuck in a trailer-park version of a daytime soap opera. You know how soaps go, when its all said and done all of the characters have at one point and time fucked at least 12 other characters and have tried to kill at least 8 others - that's exactly how it felt in that trailer-park coul de sac.
Shit man I'm in a slump, so I would just have to look past her once having sexual relations with two of the women we were having drinks with in the back of my mind - I'd have to forget about the fact that she once blew this kid named jerry who looked like he had down syndrome - god-dammit, I had some serious fucking to do. At least I thought I did, when she asked me to go inside her trailer's kitchen to get a bottle opener - I was surprised to find the shiny object swimming in a sea of unopened Magnum Condom Boxes. Its good to see that she's safe and all, but the last time I wore a magnum condom I remember wrapping it around my cock twice and putting that son of a bitch in an intricate boyscout not just so it would stay on me - I started to feel amazingly inadequate. As I stood with one hand on the bottle opener and one hand grasping the condom box, I couldn't stop thinking about me having sex with a woman who is used to baby arm phallus's being akin to a midget aimlessly wandering around a 25 room mansion.
After I handed her the bottle opener I just walked to my car looking rather expressionless, people asking me "where are you going?" in childlike unison - that's when I heard Tomika say to herself "I knew I should have put away those fucking Magnums!!" For the record, when the shock wears off - I might see her again.