undershaker

I have finally decided to take the advice of Tesco Vee -- though not in full, as he meant the song to be an homophobic blast of behavior modification for homophobes -- & am going to "tool for anus". Yes, I am going to splash into the organic socialization process. Yes, indeed.

Prior to Wednesday eve, the 5th, I had not plumbed the shallows for purposes of making out, coitus, or even just getting a few minutes of half & half flipping &/or a number. In fact, I only had one instance of being propositioned in a bar -- end of fall term '01, as I'm about to graduate, I venture to the Hawk's Nest (since closed?) in Ripon, Wisc., for a nite of drinking with my floormates, & as the nite drags on, one of the few townies to brave the college bar, having been shot down by at least an half-dozen, I'm sure, approaches me. I desperately wanted to join her back at her flat, or in her bedroom at her parents's place, whichever might have been the case, but even knowing that she'd prolly been with tens of males on my campus, I would have grown quite embarassed. For my first college ass to be my last, & a towny, in my senior year... Six years on, I understand that the embarassment would have been all mine, & meant nothing to my peers. But, then...

Ah, but I ramble on.

Wednesday, 5th September, current year, then, I am at the Brit Inn in Shorewood, my Wednesday haunt for the past five-plus months for its trivia nite, & I have reconvened with the Van Buren Boys (I just call them "The Ocho"). I had split with my team of season 2 (though it was my & the team's first) on week one of season 3, to join the bar trivia stalwart, but always the bride's maid, VBB, then followed to a different team in each of the subsequent two weeks, but week 4, The Ocho was below the quota of eight -- well, maximum -- so I accepted their offer to be on their side. It was a fortuitous decision, for two reasons:

(one.) I learned that the fellow by the name of Kevin is the ex-boyfriend of my cousin Lizzie. He had meant her thru mutual associations at Marquette High -- his alma mater, & where she acted in female roles in the theatre dept (it's an all-boys school, & her father is an alum, & she, an actress/singer) -- & proceeded to see her for eighteen months. A goodly length, but quickly & from the start, he came to understand that Jay -- the father -- is the balls, while Joanie -- Lizzie's mother, & my father's sister -- is out of her head. As well, that Josh (Lizzie's brother, a year my junior) apparently has a taste for the barely legal, while Nick (the eldest sibling, & a coke-head medical-supplies sales-manager) is a dick. Kevin is a good man, with a squard head on his shoulders, then... & even he did "taunt" me by pointing out that he fucked my cousin.

(two.) Kevin & the others made a point to snigger at a blonde in a Cubs tee-shirt, a doll they had met at another bar some time back -- by that, I mean, maybe three, four months ago -- & with whom one of their friends had made out, right there in that bar where they first encountered her, without any shame. (They described their friend as "falling on the grenade, so somebody else wouldn't have to".) Well, this talk of a presumably single, & possibly open (minded... legged... whatever) girl in the bar had me fixate on her, & after the evening's competition, as the bar cleared, I turned to the girl -- no doubt, due a bit of "liquor courage" (I didn't feel but a little pissed, on two Kronenbourg, two vodka tonic, & a High Life), but not nearly as much as me pointing it out would imply -- & chatted her up. Mostly, I wanted to see if I could have a make-out with her. But also -- it enervates me to no end to hear male colleagues & compatriots besmirch a girl in whom they very well might have an interest, & to do so because she's "sexually amoral". I call it the Jessie Ward Postulate: she was the girl at my high-school (my grade, in fact; I had English with her, junior year) that became the target of all my friends's pent-up sexuality, set to boil (over) since they weren't getting any. She was "popsicle girl" (I suppose you can figure why) & letting the boys of the football team ride her like the proverbial train; mostly, though, she was popsicle girl. On that, my friends fixated. & never mind that, even if such a kink as being penetrated by frozen dessert treats were belonging to somebody other than JW, my friends would have found it different, at worst, enlightened, at best... But just think about it: they hated her so, for her "looseness", her "willingness", to get themselves worked into a froth, but they imagined her in the most lucid ways, sexually. Something tells me, in reality, as with many girls, they found something to like. But because she was a pom-pon girl, because she was acquainted with the jocks, they shouldn't be attracted to her, find her attractive...

Likewise, my cohort on The Ocho, because the girl in question on the eve of the 5th is a Cubs fan, or a bit chubby (I didn't notice it at first, but even when I did, it wasn't more than fifteen, twenty pounds extra; in other words, not a deal-breaker (& especially not for someone in my position, which is 240 pounds on a 6'3" frame)), she was shanda. (I don't write Hebrew, sorry. But I do love that term.)

Not I. At least, not without knowing a bit of her, would I find her an atrocity. So, I chatted away with her, about movies (Darjeeling Limited), sports (dogfighting... (prolly not the best idea, when you're getting to know someone for the first time, to acknowledge that the actual fighting does not disgust you, just the lengths to which some dogfighters go to "dispose" of their "washed-up" dogs (& yes, I love dogs, & no, I wouldn't attend a dogfight, but the dogfight ON ITS OWN is not appalling), our city, & she seemed... nice. I must have too, as her friends, as they left, gifted me with a Newcastle -- or maybe I just didn't seem drunk enough (by & by, this was the second time in a bit over a month that I had gotten a free beer from someone that I didn't even really know; the first was after the Cubs-Phillies tilt on 31st July, at a bar in Wrigleyville, & the egotist in me would like to think that one of the neighbourhood gays took a shine to me (& if a man finds me attractive, then women must really find me attractive...)) -- & I went in for the kill. I kissed her -- not my strongsuit, I admit (though I will (redacted by editor) like a champ) -- & continued chatting, before driving her home. At such time, I went in a bit more strongly, even grazed her right breast (well, a bit more than grazed), & went away... Relieved. At least in the short term, I can tool for anus successfully. Now, to prolong my tooling.

Also, to not have an awkward experience at the next quiz nite, as I'm sure she & her friends will be there, & I will admit, my kissing leaves something to be desired, so I did prolly get reviewed as ham-fisted. But still... At least I did it. At least I did it.

& my breath never even had to smell like semen.