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But I haven’t been thinking about the actual building much…. you see, I met somebody special there. I totally wasn’t expecting it. We even kinda made out a little bit. But I have to be honest - I didn’t do much. It all happened so quick and, to tell the truth, I was sort of taken aback at first and I just sort of stood there. She had really busy hands. She ran her hands up and down my torso, then she squatted down in front of me and ran her hands up the inside of my thighs. I though she was going to cup my nuts or grab my wang or something but she stopped just short. Then she turned me around and held me from behind close like we were dancing at some club or something and getting our freak on and she asked me some questions in my ear. It wasn’t really turning me on at all, but if that’s what she likes…. Incidentally, on the topic of club-dancing, have I ever told you about this guy that my friend Amy H. told me about? I may have, I can’t remember. I guess Amy H. was dancing on some dance floor somewhere and she felt something poking at her so she turned around and there was some weird dude there leering at her. He was wearing sweatpants with no underwear, hump-dancing, and rubbing his boner on her. Amy H. was grossed out and she ran off the dance floor. I don’t endorse this dude’s dancing style, but if I was dancing around rubbing my boner sweatpants on somebody and she recoiled in disgust, I think I’d try to come up with some story like I was an artist doing an installation that symbolized a poignant social commentary on the rampant carnality of popular youth dancing. But I guess this guy just gave her a shameless grin and a thumbs-up or something then bonered off back into the dancing crowd. Amy H. told some people about the guy at the club and she found out that he was there every night, and that he always wore sweatpants with no underwear and always had a boner. Wait a minute! Maybe the dude wasn’t a pre-vert at all! Maybe he just has a medical condition that makes him have a permanent boner! And maybe, because of his permanent boner, he can only wear sweatpants with no underwear because if he wore jeans all day, for instance, it might put a lot of strain on the base of his boner - pitching a tent with such heavy fabric, you know - and (to say nothing of the discomfort) possibly break it off. He could bleed to death! Quite frankly, I think it takes a lot of courage to get out there and try to make friends on the dance floor, even though this guy must know that his boner / sweatpants condition will, almost 99% of the time, make him the subject of social scorn. Sigh. He must be the lonliest boner-man in the whole wide world. That is, until he meets that special lady on the dance floor, the one who’ll look beyond his permanent boner condition and see the beautiful person inside. Don’t give up, boner man! You’ll meet her someday! The more I think about it, I admire the boner-man’s pluck. If I had a permanent boner I’d probably just sit in my apartment all day alone, peering out of my peephole at my neighbhors in the hall, writing web-log entries, and knitting humorous rooster-head boner-warmers out of recycled yarn. Anyway, back to this woman I met. I don’t know if she was super impressed with my physique, but after she pulled her hands out of my jacket (where she was totally feeling me up), she said I was “O.K.” Not great, just “O.K.,” but in this day and age it’s not just women who are under a lot of pressure from advertising to have these weird, nearly impossible-to-achieve bodies. Dudes are under that same kind pressure now too! So being “O.K.” is fine with me. I even consider it a bit of a compliment. I’ve been trying to exercise more lately and eat better and get more sleep. I’m happy that she noticed. So now here I am, wondering how to handle the situation. Should I try to call her? Or will that make me seem desperate? Maybe I should just play it cool and wait for her to call. But does she know how to get in contact with me? I don’t know. Maybe I’m just embarrassing myself. Maybe I’m just making a big deal out of nothing. Maybe she does that sort of thing all the time, with all sorts of guys. It’s been a couple of weeks now and I haven’t heard from her. It probably didn’t even mean anything to her. Brian 3:55 PM Comments: Post a Comment

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House of Noh!

Saturday, October 16, 2004

“So THIS is what it must be like to live in space,” is something you don’t want to say over and over again for like forty-five minutes straight if you don’t want your friends with you in the airport to maybe get a little bit tired of you. But Shit! Those walk accelators – you know, those horizontal escalator things – are ultra-cool, especially the bouncy ones. I’ve been thinking of one specific airport a lot lately. Actually, this one in particular wasn’t even too space station-like. But I haven’t been thinking about the actual building much…. you see, I met somebody special there. I totally wasn’t expecting it. We even kinda made out a little bit. But I have to be honest - I didn’t do much. It all happened so quick and, to tell the truth, I was sort of taken aback at first and I just sort of stood there. She had really busy hands. She ran her hands up and down my torso, then she squatted down in front of me and ran her hands up the inside of my thighs. I though she was going to cup my nuts or grab my wang or something but she stopped just short. Then she turned me around and held me from behind close like we were dancing at some club or something and getting our freak on and she asked me some questions in my ear. It wasn’t really turning me on at all, but if that’s what she likes…. Incidentally, on the topic of club-dancing, have I ever told you about this guy that my friend Amy H. told me about? I may have, I can’t remember. I guess Amy H. was dancing on some dance floor somewhere and she felt something poking at her so she turned around and there was some weird dude there leering at her. He was wearing sweatpants with no underwear, hump-dancing, and rubbing his boner on her. Amy H. was grossed out and she ran off the dance floor. I don’t endorse this dude’s dancing style, but if I was dancing around rubbing my boner sweatpants on somebody and she recoiled in disgust, I think I’d try to come up with some story like I was an artist doing an installation that symbolized a poignant social commentary on the rampant carnality of popular youth dancing. But I guess this guy just gave her a shameless grin and a thumbs-up or something then bonered off back into the dancing crowd. Amy H. told some people about the guy at the club and she found out that he was there every night, and that he always wore sweatpants with no underwear and always had a boner. Wait a minute! Maybe the dude wasn’t a pre-vert at all! Maybe he just has a medical condition that makes him have a permanent boner! And maybe, because of his permanent boner, he can only wear sweatpants with no underwear because if he wore jeans all day, for instance, it might put a lot of strain on the base of his boner - pitching a tent with such heavy fabric, you know - and (to say nothing of the discomfort) possibly break it off. He could bleed to death! Quite frankly, I think it takes a lot of courage to get out there and try to make friends on the dance floor, even though this guy must know that his boner / sweatpants condition will, almost 99% of the time, make him the subject of social scorn. Sigh. He must be the lonliest boner-man in the whole wide world. That is, until he meets that special lady on the dance floor, the one who’ll look beyond his permanent boner condition and see the beautiful person inside. Don’t give up, boner man! You’ll meet her someday! The more I think about it, I admire the boner-man’s pluck. If I had a permanent boner I’d probably just sit in my apartment all day alone, peering out of my peephole at my neighbhors in the hall, writing web-log entries, and knitting humorous rooster-head boner-warmers out of recycled yarn. Anyway, back to this woman I met. I don’t know if she was super impressed with my physique, but after she pulled her hands out of my jacket (where she was totally feeling me up), she said I was “O.K.” Not great, just “O.K.,” but in this day and age it’s not just women who are under a lot of pressure from advertising to have these weird, nearly impossible-to-achieve bodies. Dudes are under that same kind pressure now too! So being “O.K.” is fine with me. I even consider it a bit of a compliment. I’ve been trying to exercise more lately and eat better and get more sleep. I’m happy that she noticed. So now here I am, wondering how to handle the situation. Should I try to call her? Or will that make me seem desperate? Maybe I should just play it cool and wait for her to call. But does she know how to get in contact with me? I don’t know. Maybe I’m just embarrassing myself. Maybe I’m just making a big deal out of nothing. Maybe she does that sort of thing all the time, with all sorts of guys. It’s been a couple of weeks now and I haven’t heard from her. It probably didn’t even mean anything to her.

Brian 3:55 PM

Comments: Post a Comment

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House of Noh!

Saturday, October 16, 2004