One day in college I sat in the cafeteria and listened to this song over and over and over. With my earphones in deep, I surveyed the room looking at all the male faces, tyring to choose which one I’d like to say, “Now I tell you openly. You have my heart so don’t hurt me.” Man, I spent a lot of unnecessary time fantasizing in college.
I was outside my parent’s house trying to get a good picture of the stinging nettles in the back yard. I leaned in closely, careful not to get stung, and snapped a few photos. None of them were turning out how I had hoped, they kept looking like marijuana leaves. Frustrated, I gave up and went inside.
Mom was standing at the kitchen sink washing dishes. She turned around and smiled and nodded towards the living room to where Dad was sitting with his back to me. She turned off the faucet and dried her hands on the yellow, tattered towel then threw it over the dish drainer. I followed her into the living room where it was really warm. Not like a sauna but more like that feeling you get after 2 glasses of wine.
Que’Shayda was sprawled out on the couch reading Ebony magazine as Dad sat in his favorite chair watching the game. Mom and I both started crying at the miracle of his presence. My brother walked in tossing a football from hand to hand. The minute she saw him, Que’Shayda put down her magazine and sat up off the couch.
“Why didn’t you return Tay Tay’s call?” she asked aggressively. He stopped tossing the football and snapped back, “You mean Dunkin’ Donuts?” and then the two of them left the room.
As I continued to weep, Mom rubbed Dad’s back. Then, as fast as the typebar of a typewriter rocketing up, one question came rushing to the front of my brain.
“What’s heaven like?” I asked.
He turned off the T.V. and looked at me and then at Mom. There was a moment of silence and then he shook his head in disappointment and said, “I’m happier here.”
“We’ll talk about that later,” said Mom.
My weeping got drowned out by the sound of sirens speeding up the driveway. The sirens turned into my alarm and then I woke up.
I was dating this guy named Paul for about 3 months. He was 25, born and raised in Los Angeles, and had recently moved out of his parents house. He called me one afternoon and had to cancel our date because he was rollerblading earlier that morning, hit a curb, and fell. He skinned up his knees and elbows and couldn’t move his joints. Halfway through the conversation I heard him cringe in pain and say, “Ouch, Mom! That hurts!”
“Um, we can talk later if you and your Mom are busy,” I said.
It was kind of weird that he was 25 years-old and still had his Mom fixing his boo-boos. Apparently he talked to his Mom every day and saw her at least once a week. We rescheduled the date for the following day.
After our date we went back to my place to do sicky things. I was on all fours as he stood at the foot of the bed doing me doggy style (his knees were still sensitive). We were both enjoying it and things were going great. He finally pulled out and finished all over my back. Normal. I sat there for a second catching my breath and felt the warmth of the cum and thought, “O.K., better go grab a towel before this turns cold.” I didn’t act quickly enough. He leaned over and like a Hoover vacuum, sucked up all his own cum. He started at the bottom of my spinal cord and zigzagged his way up.
Sluuuuurrrp.
I immediately rolled onto my back and looked at him with fear in my eyes.
“What was that?” I asked.
“What?” he said and then took a big gulp.
“Nothing,” I said.
It’s a rule of mine now to never date a guy who talks to and/or sees his Mom every day.
Last night I drove across town to Echo Park to meet up with Rosie to listen to some good old fashioned storytelling. “The Moth presents the GrandSLAM. A battle of wits and words – fierce, hilarious, heartbreaking and all points in between. Featuring the winners of the past 10 Moth StorySLAMS,” is how they described it. I’m normally not a fan of events like this because they make me too anxious. It’s stressful being part of an audience when there’s a possibility that the person on stage could bomb. It’s awkward.
There was a guy from Iceland who told a story about how he hacked a computer. He had a very thick accent. His story wasn’t all that great but the fact that he was telling it in another language really won the crowd over. Why are we such idiots for accents? There’s something enduring about a grown man from another country saying, “It was so cute, it tickled my bottom.” He could have told us all to go to hell and we’d still give him a standing ovation. One of the best parts about being a foreigner is that you never bomb. I’m sure the minute he told that story back in Iceland they beat the hell out of him.
This weekend I’ll be joining every other gay in L.A. to see Swedish singer Robyn perform at the Hollywood Bowl. Here are some fun facts about Swedish women and how they’re killin’ the competition:
Konichiwa BITCHES!
An 11 year-old boy gets a new bike for Kwanzaa. He’s overwhelmed and the first thing he does is run outside and start pedaling. His legs are moving in a circular blur and the chain is cranking like it was being operated by a fuel injected engine. Tiny bits of gravel are spitting up behind him. This isn’t his first time riding a bike but it is his first time riding a NEW bike so he’s super excited and disregards all rules, like slowing down for the sharp turn that’s approaching. The minute he takes the corner his bike goes skidding on its side and sends him rolling through the gravel, ripping chunks of skin off his knees and elbows, finally stopping when he hits the wall of the utility shed. He’s a bloody mess, but survives. As he sits up and rubs his head he thinks, “I knew better.”
This is kind of how my experience went when I got my new iPhone and downloaded Words with Friends. I was so excited to be part of the group that I started inviting people right and left. You know I’m real simple when it comes to words so this isn’t a game I should be playing with just anyone. People started forfeiting when they’d play “quartzy” for 80 points and I’d fire back with “at” for 2 points. It’s been a month now and the excitement has worn off but there are 2 people who have stuck it out with me.
The first is a co-worker who never graduated High School. He’s dyslexic and still uses his fingers to count. He’s beating me 473 to 180. He’s clearly cheating and using that website that calculates the highest scoring word possible. The other day he came up with “zaftig.” I didn’t say anything because nothing makes me feel better than letting an idiot feel smart. I’m a nice guy, sue me.
The second is a guy that went to Law School with my friend. She’s been trying to hook us up ever since I lived in Spain but when I got back he had a boyfriend so it hasn’t exactly worked out. However, he recently ended that relationship and is single again. I’ve been weary to ask him out because I’m intimidated by his intelligence and feel he might be out of my league. The other day he beat me 450 to 296. I messaged him, “Winner owes the loser a drink.” He wrote back, “I thought it was the other way around, but O.K.”
I don’t have time to be intimidated.
