I don’t know how many times a chick has to walk in on me while I’m in a public toilet before I realise that I should double-check that the door is locked.
I’m hoping that the answer to that question is 2, because I really don’t want this to happen for a third time.
That said, I am certain that you guys have guessed correctly at what happened to me yesterday. I am currently trying to keep my mind free of how embarrassing the experience was.
But I exaggerate; I am really not all that embarrassed. At the very least, she did not catch me in the classic I’m-about-to-wipe-my-arse position. And more than that, people have been caught doing more embarrassing things.
Pee-Wee Herman got caught masturbating in cinema.
R. Kelly got caught taking a bathroom break on a minor.
David Beckham got caught bending women to whom he was not betrothed (not that he was trying to be discreet to start with).
The highlight of my Sunday was not being caught with my pants down in the loo however.
When last did I speak of Flez? It’s been a while since I’ve uttered such profanity.
I do not believe I wrote about how I went over to Flez’s house after work and gave him a blow job on his bed.
How about the time I was using one hand to masturbate, and the other to hold the phone to my ear while Flez listened on the other end? No… Okay…
My how things can change in such a short period of time. The about-turn came when Flez was continuously calling. I was doing the usual – hanging up on him, not giving the time of day. You know the drill. Until he said the one thing that got through to me.
He said my name. (No, that’s not it you idiot.)
Me: “What?”
Flez: “I love you.”
Then he hung up the phone.
Most of the animosity that originated from the three-way incident has since dissipated. And then I was giving him blow jobs in his bedroom.
The funny part was that his parents came home while I was there. And you people may not recall this, but his parents hate my blooming guts.
And this was how I became a co-worker of Flez whose name was Candace.
As soon as his mother saw me, a pensive look suffused her countenance. Her eyebrows furrowed and she gave that suspicious cock of the head.
“I know her face,” she says.
Me: “You do? Candace?”
It was then that Flez informed both me and his mother where I lived – in the Valley. Bacchus AKA Dionysus and all other gods of sex and saving-one’s-tush must have been watching over me, because she did not ask me exactly where in The Valley I lived; I know The Valley like I know the contours of Martha Stuart’s arse. And in case any of you sickos were wondering, I know nothing of Martha’s arse.
The lady (Flez’ mom, not Martha Stuart) must have spent a good 5 minutes staring at me and trying to figure me out. And the funniest part of all of this? All of this went on with my work-badge dangling from my neck, declaring my real name and true place of occupation. But she never noticed it.
THANK YOU BACCHUS!
I speak of all of this as if it occurred just yesterday. This actually happened over two weeks ago. What happened yesterday was… well…
Before I divulge that little episode (of a pornographic series), I should point out that JD and I are continuing as normal. Things are starting to get a bit less platonic between us, however, and it will soon be time for me to decide whether I want him as a boyfriend or not. The proposition has actually already been made. It is simply up to me now to either accept or reject it.
I am actually extremely ambivalent about this (ooh look, Ambivalent-T). On one side, I see so many pros about being with JD, and having him as a boyfriend.
• Far reduced emotional instability on his part (unlike Flez)
• His mother likes me. No check that. She loves me (unlike Flez’s mother, and entire nuclear family)
• We can have sex on a regular basis (the ability to meet each other for anything, not just for sex, was a big problem coming down to the end of my relationship with Flez)
• He would take me out regularly (unlike Flez)
• I can picture a future!! (unlike Flez)
At the same time, however, I am not hugely emotionally (or sexually, for that matter) attracted to JD. My fingers are not always hovering over the key-pad of the phone, just itching to call him. When I see him, my first inclination is not to start touching him, inhaling him. If I don’t hear from him for a few days, I probably would not even notice. All of this is completely unlike what I had with Flez. And unlike the bullet points, where not being like Flez was a huge plus, this lack of attraction is an even larger minus.
So what do I do then? Choose stability or wait until I find a guy who possesses that arcane quality… that has that undeniable attraction that can suck me in again (at the risk of entering another dead-end or painful relationship)?
It’s like water for chocolate. (Like Water For Chocolate – an interestingly odd book from some Latin-American writer)
On one side there is water – JD, possessing the qualities essential for a long-lasting relationship.
To the other extreme there is chocolate – not extremely healthy, but oh-lord does it taste good, and no fucking way can you resist the temptation of it.
It was subsequent to my arrival home from class that I was presenting this situation to Flez on the phone. He said that he did not want to complicate things further for me by going beyond what we have done so far at his house. It was my decision he said, and for once, he did not want to fuck things up for me by being even more involved in my life than he currently was.
He did reveal that if JD was not playing so effectively the role of potential boyfriend, he would be over to my house in a second and fuck me until my insides cried out for mercy. That Sunday afternoon was the perfect opportunity – the parents were not at home, the only sibling in the house was 10 and knew how to stay out of a fucking couple’s way. But he would not come because he considered that there would be consequences to his actions.
I cannot remember when he changed his mind, only that he eventually did. And I welcomed the change of heart like Robert Downey Jr would welcome his favourite crack pusher’s release from jail.
Don’t get me wrong. There was hesitation in Flez’ voice. There were second thoughts. But he did eventually come. And when I looked down from the balcony and saw his car drive up in front of my gate, there was no doubt in my mind that sex would follow.
Not a single doubt.