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in the future sex will be everywhere G.: So here’s something I don’t understand. J.: What’s that. G.: Singlehood. J.: Well, for one, don’t call it singlehood. G.: Bachelorhood? J.: Don’t name it. It’s your life, not a condition. G.: Well, what I don’t understand is why the FUCK nobody will sleep with me. J.: That, on the other hand, is a condition. G.: Ass. J.: You’re presuming you’re worth sleeping with, and that — at least I assume — women recognize that in the very short periods of time you are actually with them before you destroy their perceptions of you as a nice guy. G.: Seriously. Ass. J.: What’s the problem. G.: The other night I take out this chick. Starletta. J.: Problem number one has just revealed itself. But go on. G.: Ass. But anyway she comes over and we have a drink, okay. J.: Like a drink drink? G.: Like an alcoholic beverage. J.: Wine? G.: Captain. J.: Probably problem number two. G.: What’s wrong with Captain? J.: Problem number three. Continue. G.: We go to a movie. J.: Movie? G.: The Strangers. J.: Problem four. G.: I’m tallying these. You’re going to have to explain them afterward. J.: Nah, I’m not going to do that. G.: Because you’re an ass? J.: Because I am. G.: We have dinner. J.: Time? G.: Uh. Nine-thirty or something. J.: Uh huh. That’s another one. G.: Nothing wrong with a late dinner. J.: Except girls like to complain about bloat and stuff. And that’s problem six. Improper digestive time is a dealbreaker. G.: Shit. J.: Go on. G.: We have drinks. J.: Wine this time? G.: Captain. J.: You’re at a bar. G.: Yeah. J.: Where they have classier beverages than you keep around your casa. G.: Yeah. You know, ‘casa’ always makes me think of Cassavetes. Mi Cassavetes, su Cassavetes. J.: Try not to tell Starletta that joke, okay. G.: Why, it’s a good one. J.: It isn’t, for one. But Starletta won’t get that one. G.: Mi Casablan– J.: Stop it. Now continue. G.: I drive her back to her place. J.: Her car is at your place, though. At least, I’m assuming you didn’t pick her up at her place, go back to your place, and then go out. G.: Her car is at my place. J.: So your plan is what, exactly. G.: Sleep over, go home. J.: And her car? G.: Shit. J.: I think we’re up to like problem sixteen or something. G.: But I’m reasonably good looking. And a conversationalist whose topicalities are boundless. J.: Except when you’re constructing poor sentences that Starletta wouldn’t understand even if you built them soundly. G.: Dude. She had tits. J.: More than two? G.: I – J.: Step one: Wine. Step two: Your couch. G.: Sounding good… J.: Step three: Spend the night playing Xbox Live. G.: I don’t get it. J.: You’re about as likely to be the first man to get laid via online gaming as you are to get some after your date. G.: You’re saying I know nothing about women, and I should improve, and think about them with each minor event I plan. J.: Sure, that’s a start. G.: Can you really get laid on Xbox Live? J.: Yes. G.: You’re lying to me right now. J.: I really am. G.: J.: You can call me an ass again if you want. G.: That’s okay. J.: Well, that’s progre– G.: Ass.
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June 16th, 2008 at 5:18 pm
Sex is everywhere. Just half of us don’t see it.
June 17th, 2008 at 4:07 pm
Ass.
July 1st, 2008 at 7:02 pm
Beautiful!