So, this predates my involvement with Suicidegirls, as a paid subscriber by two years, as one aware of the phenomenon by a little over a year. It's an ancient story, then, especially in the internet age of accelerated time, but it explains a lot why I fell on the crutch of erotica & strip-clubs for my feminine affection (in the former case, merely fantasy; in the latter, almost just that, but at least they were bodily adjacent). But, as an explanation, anecdotal as it is, it should be shared.
" I grew at least an inch in about an hour (so Bryce can bite down on that noise (for sure as I am commenting on Deadspin he's everything I hate)).
"It was 3rd December 2001, close of the Packers-Jaguars Monday Nite tilt. Leaving the dorm second floor restroom, following my evening's last voiding, I came to the aid of a dame upon whom I had been crushing since the previous March -- for two months, I ran into her in the library, usually weekends, & tried to flirt, but usually flailed -- & had re-encountered, with her ex from first year (she was flinging, on the side, with him, while having a steady in Madison), the following November. She had fallen out of a Coachman's chair in her ex's room, where she, the ex, & his roommate were enjoying Domino's (note: hardly food*) & watching the game.
"Having picked her up, literally, we chatted for a few about music, her lamenting she didn't know I had two ducats for the Weezer/Smoking Popes**/Tenacious D show at the Alliant Coliseum (but no ride; alas, she had a car, & could've have driven me in exchange for the 2nd entry) that nite, then going next door to my room to listen to Cake's Fashion Nugget. We didn't stay too long there, returning to her ex's room, then her departing for her own, one building over in the Quad.
"She returned after fifteen, though, & after suffering her ex's tickling for a coupla, she swung to my side, leaned into my right, & hand-fed me lukewarm Domino's, all the while smiling, eyes twinkling just as much. & once the slice was finished, she slid to my left, catching a rest, curled into my lap, her soft, platinum locks nestled along my burgeoning erection, the largest erection I had ever achieved. (& I was a frequent self-polluter, with knowledge I was not more than four & an half inches, give or take an half.) But, with my nine months crush in my lap, I was at least five & an half.
"Unfortunately, then, my thought to whisper sweetly to her ear, "Shall we make haste to my room?", was preempted by a desire neither to be slapped about by a jealous ex-with-benefits nor cuckold a current beau at the state's flagship campus. So, I went home that nite with my hard-on, larger than ever, but thoroughly unsatisfied".
#drunkenhookupfailure (though I had not had a sip of drink, only my potential paramour had)
*Credit to Dashiell Bennett for that description of Domino's.
**A late sub for Jimmy Eat World. At the time, in fact, I don't believe the Smoking Popes were an otherwise active/touring band.
* ** *** ** *
Flash to eight years later. Namely, as described in this blog-dropping. Cockblocking oneself at New Year's Karaoke.
For the three months after I failed to close any manner of deal with the lady, let's call her Polonia, I hemmed & hawed whether to drop her a note via USPS apologizing for my social retardation & inquiring if she might remain interested in at least an acquaintance/friendship. I never did. It seemed too weird. Yes, I did find out in an above-board way where she worked, so I could have mailed the correspondence there & not felt guilty, or aggrieved that I might end up with a restraining order, but how many men outside of romantic comedies actually do that. I know the sort who do: looney-tunes. I would like to think, while I might be a pathetic, self-flagellating sort, I am not a loon, though. So, no dice.
Until this week.
I am going to mail a letter to Polonia. It's a total shot in the dark, one I expect to find no target... But even for that, at least I won't regret my failure, anymore. (It might still get me wistful, but I'll know that I've tried.)
With no further preamble, then, the letter:
"7th September 2010
Wauwatosa, WI
"[Polonia],
"To open, I should express my regret for not having captured your last name. This effort, however shallow &/or bizarre it may be, on which I am embarking would be much more easily endeavoured, for nought or (some measure of) success were I to know that. Alas, when first & last we met, nine months ago, I had but two, perhaps three, hours to share with you in conversation, & such in-depth personal questions as family name could not & did not arise.
"As is, even for the above, the mention of the time-frame at which we met -- nine months, or, I should specify, the New Years Eve -- you doubtless have not a clue who I am. & perhaps, too, I am better for that. This improbable attempt at connection, quite likely doomed, would drift more easily from my biography, hardly haunting me, if our ships passing in the nite were to remain on first name basis & hardly recollected.
"Still, I press on. I met you, once, as I have said, & as the eve closed I should have approached, at least asked for a means to contact you (so as to make plans for a later reconnoitering), or possibly offered to join you, taking you home (with nought but the expectation of a mutual launch to 2010 & a cheek peck), but I did as I always do in such situations & second-guessed my interpretation of the join us, as we leave, my sister, friends, & I gesture.
"Of course, as well, I was kicking myself within fifteen minutes of your departure, as I walked to my own vehicle for the brief, but saddening, maddening, drive home, another flailing attempt at sustaining a social interaction. & for the next three months, in fits & starts, I tried to figure how possibly to redeem myself, pursue you in a manner hopefully befitting a mid-period John Cusack romantic comedy (& pointedly, not a hair-shirts & fava beans style), but each time, I balked. It seemed too weird.
"As the three months since have tripled, though, I have turned thirty -- an event occuring at approximately the end of the third month -- & experienced certain complications which have led me to re-consider my reticence in pursuit & over-arching, too large, fear of rejection.
"With this note, then, I am asking if there could be a chance we might meet again, then, a planned encounter, maybe just tipping back a Strongbow apiece, & sharing a few words. It could be a date, or just a friendly meeting -- Lord knows, I could use more acquaintances as much as I could resume dating -- & if this note has not made you ill (for my seeming desperation, or its probable strangeness), I hope we should.
"Please feel free to respond via phone, then. I can be reached at 414.732.3766. & if you do not call, I will accept that my chance came & went on the same nite, & will cease effort to contact you. I feel, though, I must try, once. Even if I should have made that once the New Year, or January 15th (at the latest).
"I hope you find yourself well, & best of luck in your graduate studies;
"cordially,
"[undershaker]
"P.S. Regardless whether you respond or not, I will never hear Goodbye Earl as I did before December 31st, 2009. As well, I owe an affection for Lady Gaga to you & yours. As little as we knew & know each other, then, you affected me, & for that, I thank you".
* ** *** ** *
No regrets.
If only what I am doing, now, could be so easy as this. Sadly, I will never look as good, nor come off as smoothly, as Bono doing an Elvis Costello imitation.
" I grew at least an inch in about an hour (so Bryce can bite down on that noise (for sure as I am commenting on Deadspin he's everything I hate)).
"It was 3rd December 2001, close of the Packers-Jaguars Monday Nite tilt. Leaving the dorm second floor restroom, following my evening's last voiding, I came to the aid of a dame upon whom I had been crushing since the previous March -- for two months, I ran into her in the library, usually weekends, & tried to flirt, but usually flailed -- & had re-encountered, with her ex from first year (she was flinging, on the side, with him, while having a steady in Madison), the following November. She had fallen out of a Coachman's chair in her ex's room, where she, the ex, & his roommate were enjoying Domino's (note: hardly food*) & watching the game.
"Having picked her up, literally, we chatted for a few about music, her lamenting she didn't know I had two ducats for the Weezer/Smoking Popes**/Tenacious D show at the Alliant Coliseum (but no ride; alas, she had a car, & could've have driven me in exchange for the 2nd entry) that nite, then going next door to my room to listen to Cake's Fashion Nugget. We didn't stay too long there, returning to her ex's room, then her departing for her own, one building over in the Quad.
"She returned after fifteen, though, & after suffering her ex's tickling for a coupla, she swung to my side, leaned into my right, & hand-fed me lukewarm Domino's, all the while smiling, eyes twinkling just as much. & once the slice was finished, she slid to my left, catching a rest, curled into my lap, her soft, platinum locks nestled along my burgeoning erection, the largest erection I had ever achieved. (& I was a frequent self-polluter, with knowledge I was not more than four & an half inches, give or take an half.) But, with my nine months crush in my lap, I was at least five & an half.
"Unfortunately, then, my thought to whisper sweetly to her ear, "Shall we make haste to my room?", was preempted by a desire neither to be slapped about by a jealous ex-with-benefits nor cuckold a current beau at the state's flagship campus. So, I went home that nite with my hard-on, larger than ever, but thoroughly unsatisfied".
#drunkenhookupfailure (though I had not had a sip of drink, only my potential paramour had)
*Credit to Dashiell Bennett for that description of Domino's.
**A late sub for Jimmy Eat World. At the time, in fact, I don't believe the Smoking Popes were an otherwise active/touring band.
* ** *** ** *
Flash to eight years later. Namely, as described in this blog-dropping. Cockblocking oneself at New Year's Karaoke.
For the three months after I failed to close any manner of deal with the lady, let's call her Polonia, I hemmed & hawed whether to drop her a note via USPS apologizing for my social retardation & inquiring if she might remain interested in at least an acquaintance/friendship. I never did. It seemed too weird. Yes, I did find out in an above-board way where she worked, so I could have mailed the correspondence there & not felt guilty, or aggrieved that I might end up with a restraining order, but how many men outside of romantic comedies actually do that. I know the sort who do: looney-tunes. I would like to think, while I might be a pathetic, self-flagellating sort, I am not a loon, though. So, no dice.
Until this week.
I am going to mail a letter to Polonia. It's a total shot in the dark, one I expect to find no target... But even for that, at least I won't regret my failure, anymore. (It might still get me wistful, but I'll know that I've tried.)
With no further preamble, then, the letter:
"7th September 2010
Wauwatosa, WI
"[Polonia],
"To open, I should express my regret for not having captured your last name. This effort, however shallow &/or bizarre it may be, on which I am embarking would be much more easily endeavoured, for nought or (some measure of) success were I to know that. Alas, when first & last we met, nine months ago, I had but two, perhaps three, hours to share with you in conversation, & such in-depth personal questions as family name could not & did not arise.
"As is, even for the above, the mention of the time-frame at which we met -- nine months, or, I should specify, the New Years Eve -- you doubtless have not a clue who I am. & perhaps, too, I am better for that. This improbable attempt at connection, quite likely doomed, would drift more easily from my biography, hardly haunting me, if our ships passing in the nite were to remain on first name basis & hardly recollected.
"Still, I press on. I met you, once, as I have said, & as the eve closed I should have approached, at least asked for a means to contact you (so as to make plans for a later reconnoitering), or possibly offered to join you, taking you home (with nought but the expectation of a mutual launch to 2010 & a cheek peck), but I did as I always do in such situations & second-guessed my interpretation of the join us, as we leave, my sister, friends, & I gesture.
"Of course, as well, I was kicking myself within fifteen minutes of your departure, as I walked to my own vehicle for the brief, but saddening, maddening, drive home, another flailing attempt at sustaining a social interaction. & for the next three months, in fits & starts, I tried to figure how possibly to redeem myself, pursue you in a manner hopefully befitting a mid-period John Cusack romantic comedy (& pointedly, not a hair-shirts & fava beans style), but each time, I balked. It seemed too weird.
"As the three months since have tripled, though, I have turned thirty -- an event occuring at approximately the end of the third month -- & experienced certain complications which have led me to re-consider my reticence in pursuit & over-arching, too large, fear of rejection.
"With this note, then, I am asking if there could be a chance we might meet again, then, a planned encounter, maybe just tipping back a Strongbow apiece, & sharing a few words. It could be a date, or just a friendly meeting -- Lord knows, I could use more acquaintances as much as I could resume dating -- & if this note has not made you ill (for my seeming desperation, or its probable strangeness), I hope we should.
"Please feel free to respond via phone, then. I can be reached at 414.732.3766. & if you do not call, I will accept that my chance came & went on the same nite, & will cease effort to contact you. I feel, though, I must try, once. Even if I should have made that once the New Year, or January 15th (at the latest).
"I hope you find yourself well, & best of luck in your graduate studies;
"cordially,
"[undershaker]
"P.S. Regardless whether you respond or not, I will never hear Goodbye Earl as I did before December 31st, 2009. As well, I owe an affection for Lady Gaga to you & yours. As little as we knew & know each other, then, you affected me, & for that, I thank you".
* ** *** ** *
No regrets.
If only what I am doing, now, could be so easy as this. Sadly, I will never look as good, nor come off as smoothly, as Bono doing an Elvis Costello imitation.
VIEW 14 of 14 COMMENTS
atlea:
Thanks for thelove!
properpiper:
Thanks for commenting on my set!