This is why I don’t give second chances.
Tuesday night I worked until 11pm and then hit bar for a couple of drinks, a bit of pizza, and some excellent company. Had a very nice time, and caught a ride home after last call. Then I realized that my home is boring.
Actually, I think my home is fine. My vagina decided that my home is boring.
Vagina: “Hey, there’s nobody in that bed, I don’t want to sleep there.”
Me: “Yeah, I know, but there isn’t anybody we can really call right now.”
Vagina: “C’mon…please?”
Me: “Aren’t you still, you know…um, ‘under the weather’?”
Vagina: “Oh, you mean the period? Nope, perfectly fine. Call someone. Now.”
Me: “Are you sure? And besides, we got into trouble last week when you made me drunk call all those poor people.”
Vagina: “It’s fine. C’mon. Call Jim!”
Me: “Jim (”November Sweeps“). Well, he’s kind of a flake…But I guess since he’s drunk called me a bunch…”
So, I called Jim. Jim was happy to hear from me. I went and met a very drunk Jim at his house.
It’s a long story, but the gist is this:
New Age vocal music all fucking night.
Jim yells at me when I called a mutual friend on his phone (after he suggested it), because I apparently “Just take whatever I want without asking, or thinking of other people’s feelings.”
Jim is hurt when I don’t remember some really deep, New Agey conversation we had the last time we hooked up (I was pretty fucking drunk, for chrissakes).
I decide to go to bed, fully dressed, ignoring all attempts on Jim’s part to get me undressed.
I decide to ignore Jim entirely.
Did I mention New Age vocal music ALL FUCKING NIGHT?
I fully planned on sneaking out of the place as soon as Jim passed out, but eventually fell asleep. In the morning, I had another conversation with my vagina.
Vagina: “Psst, hey, wake up. Let’s have sex with Jim.”
Me: “Jim’s an ass.”
Vagina: “Aww, just nail him and we can get out of here.”
Me: “Fine. Just shut up, okay.”
And the gist is this:
Foreplay lasts exactly 2 minutes.
Jim watches himself in the mirror over his bed the whole time we do it.
I don’t come.
Jim congratulates me on what a great time that was.
And the Vagina was lying about the period being over.
However, at this point I don’t even care. In fact, I’m secretly glad that I bled on him.
So I pat Jim on the head and run like hell, vowing never to call that fucker again.
And hopefully I won’t.