I wrote this piece a few years ago for my friend's 'zine. He never got his shit together and the zine never saw the light of day, but I just read it again and thought it was funny. Hopefully people get the tongue in cheek tone I was going for and if I get mail from folks who think that I'm serious and bitch at me for being misogynistic then I'll get to laugh mightily at fooling them.
For the record, my friend didn't show up at her door wearing nothing more than lipstick for a hundred dollars. She said that I could say that when I retold the story so it would be more colorful. However, she did have to say, "So do you see anything you like?" to the first random stranger she caught staring at her, which was also part of the dare. She lost the dare because she wasn't able to do that with a straight face. Enjoy:
A friend of mine once asked me if I knew what color her eyes were. She rolled her pretty, blues in disgust when it appeared that I was too inebriated to even bother with a reply. She was trying on recently purchased makeup, which included eyeliner and felt it necessary to quiz me to know if I could notice the difference. Her question was barely audible and more rhetorical than anything else.
It was also her not so subtle commentary over the fact that not fifteen minutes earlier she greeted me at her door wearing nothing more than recently purchased lipstick and purring, "So do you see anything you like?" This truly unforgettable experience was thanks in large part to a dare and one brand new crisp hundred-dollar bill.
As I watched her apply the makeup, I didnt have the heart to tell her that my answer to her question of What color are my eyes? was quite simple, I dont care. I know your grooming habits!
The vision of her scant red patch of pubic hair was seared into my chemically hazed mind for at least the rest of eternity, or until I took a real good toke on the three footer. It wasnt the first time Id seen her short and curlies. In fact, I believe it was probably the fifth time that month. I remember all instances of female nudity in my life because as a heterosexual man we generally try to remember events as momentous as this. I dont remember graduating from high school, but I remember what Tamekah Hendersons nipples look like. (Large and protruding, like little brown erasers)
As a sporadically employed photographer, I have seen nude bodies before. I would have hoped that by now I had long developed the sophisticated attitude of the true artiste. In my 20 some odd years of taking photos, I have taken thousands of pictures of people in various states of undress and almost all of them at first had a look on their faces as if they were waiting for me to hold up scorecards. During those times, I rarely thought of anything except whether I should take another light reading or if I should have brought another reflector.
Yet, that time, I stared. Indeed, I was genuinely shocked by what I saw. It might have had something to do with the fact that I wasnt prepared for it. I didnt really think that she would take the dare or else I would have lied to her and brought a camera with me. I also wouldnt have dared her a hundred bucks to do it, but thats because Im cheap.
Sadly, as most of my ex-girlfriends will testify to, Im far more comfortable around naked women when I have a camera in my hand than in the everyday nudity of them walking past from the shower or changing to go out. I suppose the camera gives me something else to do besides memorize their anatomy. I guess since I dont know any women who are comfortable enough with their bodies to traipse around me naked as if it were no big deal, Ill never grow up past this fourteen year old mentality. I know plenty of girls who claim to be such people, nine times out of ten it turns out that when women say that they are flirting.
I am looking forward to actually meeting that one girl who is telling the truth. I heard that some guys feel emasculated by females who are comfortable with nudity and walk around as if the guy was just one of them, and I question whether it is because the guys were hoping for triple x lesbian action and instead get an R-rated version of The View. I also think the guys are upset that the women usually no longer think of them as a potential sexual partner and it crushes their fragile egos.
Im actually hoping to one day find a gaggle of these amazons who happen to live next door and Ill get so use to it that Ill be all, God, dont you people own pants? when I happen by to borrow that umpteenth cup of sugar.
The only question I have left is which part of that scenario is the most unlikely, the gaggle of nudist-cheerleader models, or me being so sick of them scampering about that I tell them to put something on.
----30----
For those patient enough to read that drivel here's some greatness from the late great Charles Bukowski:
"question and answer"
he sat naked and drunk in a room of summer
night, running the blade of the knife
under his fingernails, smiling, thinking
of all the letters he had received
telling him that
the way he lived and wrote about
that--
it had kept them going when
all seemed
truly
hopeless.
putting the blade on the table, he
flicked it with a finger
and it whirled
in a flashing circle
under the light.
who the hell is going to save
me? he
thought.
as the knife stopped spinning
the answer came:
you're going to have to
save yourself.
still smiling,
a: he lit a
cigarette
b: he poured
another
drink
c: gave the blade
another
spin.
--from The Last Night of the Earth Poems
For the record, my friend didn't show up at her door wearing nothing more than lipstick for a hundred dollars. She said that I could say that when I retold the story so it would be more colorful. However, she did have to say, "So do you see anything you like?" to the first random stranger she caught staring at her, which was also part of the dare. She lost the dare because she wasn't able to do that with a straight face. Enjoy:
A friend of mine once asked me if I knew what color her eyes were. She rolled her pretty, blues in disgust when it appeared that I was too inebriated to even bother with a reply. She was trying on recently purchased makeup, which included eyeliner and felt it necessary to quiz me to know if I could notice the difference. Her question was barely audible and more rhetorical than anything else.
It was also her not so subtle commentary over the fact that not fifteen minutes earlier she greeted me at her door wearing nothing more than recently purchased lipstick and purring, "So do you see anything you like?" This truly unforgettable experience was thanks in large part to a dare and one brand new crisp hundred-dollar bill.
As I watched her apply the makeup, I didnt have the heart to tell her that my answer to her question of What color are my eyes? was quite simple, I dont care. I know your grooming habits!
The vision of her scant red patch of pubic hair was seared into my chemically hazed mind for at least the rest of eternity, or until I took a real good toke on the three footer. It wasnt the first time Id seen her short and curlies. In fact, I believe it was probably the fifth time that month. I remember all instances of female nudity in my life because as a heterosexual man we generally try to remember events as momentous as this. I dont remember graduating from high school, but I remember what Tamekah Hendersons nipples look like. (Large and protruding, like little brown erasers)
As a sporadically employed photographer, I have seen nude bodies before. I would have hoped that by now I had long developed the sophisticated attitude of the true artiste. In my 20 some odd years of taking photos, I have taken thousands of pictures of people in various states of undress and almost all of them at first had a look on their faces as if they were waiting for me to hold up scorecards. During those times, I rarely thought of anything except whether I should take another light reading or if I should have brought another reflector.
Yet, that time, I stared. Indeed, I was genuinely shocked by what I saw. It might have had something to do with the fact that I wasnt prepared for it. I didnt really think that she would take the dare or else I would have lied to her and brought a camera with me. I also wouldnt have dared her a hundred bucks to do it, but thats because Im cheap.
Sadly, as most of my ex-girlfriends will testify to, Im far more comfortable around naked women when I have a camera in my hand than in the everyday nudity of them walking past from the shower or changing to go out. I suppose the camera gives me something else to do besides memorize their anatomy. I guess since I dont know any women who are comfortable enough with their bodies to traipse around me naked as if it were no big deal, Ill never grow up past this fourteen year old mentality. I know plenty of girls who claim to be such people, nine times out of ten it turns out that when women say that they are flirting.
I am looking forward to actually meeting that one girl who is telling the truth. I heard that some guys feel emasculated by females who are comfortable with nudity and walk around as if the guy was just one of them, and I question whether it is because the guys were hoping for triple x lesbian action and instead get an R-rated version of The View. I also think the guys are upset that the women usually no longer think of them as a potential sexual partner and it crushes their fragile egos.
Im actually hoping to one day find a gaggle of these amazons who happen to live next door and Ill get so use to it that Ill be all, God, dont you people own pants? when I happen by to borrow that umpteenth cup of sugar.
The only question I have left is which part of that scenario is the most unlikely, the gaggle of nudist-cheerleader models, or me being so sick of them scampering about that I tell them to put something on.
----30----
For those patient enough to read that drivel here's some greatness from the late great Charles Bukowski:
"question and answer"
he sat naked and drunk in a room of summer
night, running the blade of the knife
under his fingernails, smiling, thinking
of all the letters he had received
telling him that
the way he lived and wrote about
that--
it had kept them going when
all seemed
truly
hopeless.
putting the blade on the table, he
flicked it with a finger
and it whirled
in a flashing circle
under the light.
who the hell is going to save
me? he
thought.
as the knife stopped spinning
the answer came:
you're going to have to
save yourself.
still smiling,
a: he lit a
cigarette
b: he poured
another
drink
c: gave the blade
another
spin.
--from The Last Night of the Earth Poems