Okay, so where did we leave off? Oh yea, The Darling!!!! So I invite him over on a random Tuesday night somewhere around 10PM. He walks into my house and does a quick survey (after my dog jumps on him, and damn near racks him in the balls). Nervously, he looks at me and says “Seriously, this is where you live? You own this?” I can’t help but laugh. “Yeah, keep in mind I’m slightly older than you.” We walk through the kitchen grab a beer for him and some wine for me and as I let my dogs out he peeks over my shoulder. “Seriously? That deck is fucking huge!” I laugh again. “No, seriously, I’m 10 years older than you!”
Within beverages in hand, we make our way to my screened in porch and start chatting. For being a 21 year old male, he’s actually quite intelligent and fun to talk to. A few drinks in and I’ve learned about his family, what he’s going to school for (oh yeah, that’s right - he’s a college boy), how he doesn’t think he’s ever gotten a woman off (seems promising, right?) and all about how much he likes to party. This is when he informs me how “anxious” he gets about sex. “When I first turned 21, I made some poor decisions. I had a few one night stands. The next day I always woke up freaking out. Like, ‘what if I got that chick pregnant?’ or ‘what if I have an STD?’” I simply stare in disbelief as he continues babbling on. (Is he trying to kill his chances here or what?) “So I got online and did a whole bunch of reading about STDs and AIDS and all that shit?” This is where I stop him and change the subject. Mostly because he’s now killing MY fucking mood and, frankly, my buzz too. We come back in for a refill and he finally grabs his sack and starts making out with me in my kitchen.
So we make a mad dash for the bedroom and start going at it like, well…like a couple of 20 years olds. He finishes quickly and looks disappointed in himself. I smile and reassure him that we can do it again and his face lights up. So we take a break and smoke a cigarette. Yes, dear reader, I smoke every so often: 1) because I can and 2) because it’s delicious (especially after sex).
We go back in the house and have it again. This time it lasts longer and I tell him not to worry about getting me off because I know just what to do to help myself in this situation. After about 30 minutes, we are both blissfully happy and decide to smoke again before cashing out. So he takes his watch off and curls his skinny little ass up around me and we go to sleep. Before we go to sleep though, he informs me that he has an internship interview in the morning and needs to be up and on the road by 9:30am so I set 3 alarms to insure that this happens. I intentionally set one a little bit early and wake him up with morning head. It just seems right. Like a little goodbye gift to blow his fucking mind. Literally. Afterwards, he bounds out of bed and seems scattered about getting to his interview, says he had a great time and bolts.
In true Rita fashion, she’s texting me before 9am wanting the dirt so I meet her for lunch. I give her all of the juicy details from my night with The Darling. I inform her that I told him I’d teach him to give a woman an orgasm, if he would teach me to play poker. (And yes, I realize this is pun and actually really funny but I’d really like to learn to play poker and I like sex, so it works out in my favor twice!). Life was good, I was about to get some regular tail. As we stand to leave for lunch, I notice that The Darling has text me. OOOOWWW! And then I open it:
The Darling: I hate to say that I told you so but just like I said this morning the anxiety hit me like a tsunami! Although it was the most incredible sexual experience of my life I think I have to become cellibat until I am married.
I need to point out that I transcribed that just how it was written. He managed to spell tsunami correctly and then fucked up the word ‘celibate.’
So after Rita and I picked our jaws off of the fucking ground, she ranted about what a fucking douchebag this kid was all the way back to her office. She was more angry than I was and I was fuming (mostly because I gave him morning head. Wasted morning head on a little doucher).
In just a few short months of being single, I managed to make someone celibate. Go ME!
So weeks go by. Months, almost. Then guess what happened, Reader? During one of Rita and I’s Stumble Home Sundays I texted him (yup, drunk texting fail. It’s kinda my thing).
Stoney: Still celibate?
The Darling: Yes. Even though it’s killing me.
Five days later, he reaches out and wants to come over. He says he’s given up on celibacy.
I have his watch. I’m guessing he can’t remember where he left it. Fucker.
-Stoney
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