GIRL 91
UNFIT FRIEND OF NEXT DOOR NEIGHBOR SOUTHERN BELLE GIRL
Unfit Friend Girl seemed to know me a bit too well when she first hit on me. This is a setup, I thought. She was from the same over-the-horizon town as Jealous Judy.
Now, Jealous Judy was a story. Gorgeous, blonde, sexy, sexual and available, and absolutely crazy about me. But there were red flags. She was way over the horizon, all of 80 miles, which in New Jersey means nothing if the "vector" (direction) is south, because that might mean an hour. But north? That's a completely different 80 miles. That could be four hours. That, and the fact that she was so incredibly focused and interested in me (naked picture interested) having never met me. I'm allowed to do that. The girl isn't, not until after the first date. Then she would go on and on in these hour long phone conversations that went nowhere, during which she refused to allow interruption. So I'd put on my headset, strap the phone to my belt and go about my business, which in one case meant watering the plants at Corvette Girl's (Girl 51) house while she was out of the country, my 4 year old daughter in tow, half-listening to Jealous Judy. At one point I must have been humping it, because Jealous Judy got so annoyed that I was breathing heavy that she assumed I was masturbating. First, Jealous Judy, you're talking about something that isn't masturbation-worthy, and second, hello? My four year old is right here? Duh! So I dumped Jealous Judy, then got stalker emails from her. Here's an example of one of her post-dismissal rants, with the font size scaled down from its occasional 100 point boldface, with the spelling corrected:
the only thing that can rival and be S E X I E R than an intelligent / educated guy with a big brain...is....an intelligent / educated guy with 2 big HEADS and a HEART... your cranial capacity, SIR, is questionable....the rest is overrated ( by a narcissist, of course ).... over used ( bya pervert, of course ).... and VERY VERY VERY commonplace... Michael, YOU, are a dirty nymphomaniacal slut who needs, wants, and will ONLY attract the same....!!! STOP THE NONSENSE THAT YOU ARE LOOKING FOR A "RELATIONSHIP"....!TELL THE TRUTH.......at the age of 15 you KNEW that you were GAY...but because of all obvious reasons, you chose to mask your homosexuality with your obsessiveness with women and anal sex. in addition, i would bet my last dollar that you have been intimate with men, loved it, but choose to either hide your secret or mask it by pretending to love women. moreover, i would say that ALL you are into with women is PENETRATION... ACTUALLY, YOU BECAME A CASE STUDY. YOUR VOICE TROUBLED ME AS THE VERY SOUND OF YOU, MY DEAR , BEARS ALL INFLECTION AND INTONATION OF A VERY HOMOSEXUAL/ BI-SEXUAL MAN....MORE IMPORTANTLY, YOUR BEHAVIOR IS INDICATIVE OF A VERY TROUBLED MAN
That was only a third of it. The rest I'll spare you. But let's review. I was perverted, a user and hater of women, and homosexual. Good, now that all that is established, why was she so mad that I dismissed her? Correct! You win the prize. Because I dismissed her. Later, months later, she wanted back in, but I shut the door on her gently but firmly.
The thing was, Jealous Judy and Unfit Friend Girl were from the same town, over the New York state line and the Tappan Zee Bridge, by quite a ways. But as it turned out, that wasn't the connection.
I didn't find out the connection until curiosity made me jump in the truck and take it north on the Garden State Parkway. On the way to my date with Unfit Friend Girl, she finally confessed that she was friends with Next Door Neighbor Southern Belle Girl.
Now Next Door Neighbor Southern Belle Girl was something to write home about. Unlike Jealous Judy, Belle was mentally stable. A Mississippi girl, with an accent as slow and sweet as molasses.
Get this. Belle was blonde, beautiful, so local I could walk naked to her house and not get caught, and 35. For a 47-year-old, that's a major ego blast.
You ain't heard nothin' yet. She wrote me on the femous internet dating site and said she'd rejoined to meet me! Me! The gorgeous blonde 35 year old local chick wanted me!
We instant messaged. We emailed. We phoned. She bought my books. I FEDEXed books to her father. She was slutty. She loved every sex act in the book, particularly the S&M I'd just learned.
I begged her to see me.
Belle Girl refused. She said she was in heavy therapy and "working on her issues" and she couldn't get involved until she was "ready."
Jesus, females and their fuckin' readiness.
Despite every attempt I made, Next Door Neighbor Southern Belle Girl spurned me.
Finally I moved on. But when the hit came in from this kinky-as-hell woman in the same town as Jealous Judy, and when she asked me to come up for a fuck-me-in-the-ass-pack-your-bag-first-date, I was intrigued.
But halfway up the Parkway, Unfit Friend Girl confessed that the way she knew me was through Next Door Neighbor Southern Belle Girl.
She asked if I had a problem with that. I already knew that Unfit Friend Girl was older than me, by at least five years. Which made this a play date. I also considered Southern Belle Girl a serious prospect. Not so much because of any progress getting her to the candlelit table, but because she was so beautiful and so young that it would make sense - if I wanted to keep her - to reconsider the idea of marriage.
Now there's aheavy thought. I'm not willing to marry anyone, I thought. It's a flawed institution. It ruins romance. Blah blah blah.
But a woman of 35 might go to whatever man gave her the engagement ring and the princess wedding.
Hell with it, I thought. Never again.
So I hung up with Unfit Friend Girl and called Southern Belle Girl. That smooth southern accent just made my cock quiver, at least, usually it did. This time she said that she was fine with me seeing Unfit Friend Girl, though she didn't want me to fuck her, but if I did, she didn't want to know.
I hung up and contemplated turning around.
To the south lay my house and a possible future with Southern Belle Girl. To the north lay a sure thing with a kinky older woman. The southern course meant possibly compromising my principles and reconsidering the inconceivable. The northern course just meant me doing my usual bad boy thing.
I kept going north.
It wasn't much of a date. Unfit Friend Girl was more than a disloyal friend. She was also a degenerate liar about herself. She was much older than she'd claimed. S
he looked nothing like her pictures. The evening wore on, and eventually we ended up at her place, and I even tried to function. But it was too much for me. I'm a rock star, but even I couldn't perform for his audience. I pulled my underwear up over a cock that had shrunk so small it could have passed for prepubescent.
The entire ride home, my traitorous penis, Tyrannosaurs Rex, rode shotgun and spoke aloud to me. I thought he'd be upset, subjecting him to Unfit Friend Girl.
But he wasn't. He whistled to the Papa Roach CD and lit a cigar. When I tell people that my penis walks beside me and talks to me, they get this strange impression that a six foot tall penis is his image, but Tyrannosaurus Rex, when he takes shape to interact with me, looks like me. A bit tougher, to be certain. Always in the Indiana Jones jacket. His jaw, tougher and squarer than mine, is inevitably graced with a three day growth of beard. His teeth are whiter, he smiles easily, and his hair is perfect. His shoulders and arms ripple with muscles, and his stomach is washboard flat. In short, he's a more perfect version of me.
But wait, a reader might say. That sounds exactly the way you describe the supreme being when he makes an appearance.
It is no coincidence. There is some message in this that is just beyond my grasp. God's a prankster, and it would be just like him to want the joke to come to mind that he's a prick, but that's not it. That's not the main thrust anyway, no pun intended. If my cock's spirit looks divine, perhaps that is the message itself, that God invented the penis and the vagina and he believes that we are entirely too prude. That we should take sex more seriously, revere it the way he does. That his version of masculinity in my flesh is important, important enough to make a statement with the identical image.
Maybe, I thought, but the concept, even once voiced, seemed too distant to understand. I shrugged it off, thinking maybe I'd been right the first time. The supreme being was a stand up comedian, and he loved equating his presence with that of a dick.
You celebrating, I asked.
He shook his head.
"You passed a test, friend," he said in his gravelly bourbon-and-cigars voice.
What would that be, I asked.
"Given the temptation of marriage to a beautiful princess and a one night stand with an old skank, you chose the skank. I'm proud of you."
It wasn't much of a temptation, Rex, I said. The princess wouldn't agree to see me. I didn't give up anything. I could probably still get with her if I try.
"No," he said. "Not this time."
He watched me to see if I'd react.
The end of the dream with Next Door Neighbor Southern Belle Girl.
To hell with her, I said. Who needs that? With all that porn out there, who needs marriage again?
"Damned straight," he said.
When I looked over the next time, he was gone, and there was not even a trace of the cigar smoke in the truck.
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