20 May 2011

Flaccid Man

As I’m sitting here watching the rain fall and make the flowers sort of genuflect to the pressure, I’m reminded of a botched sexcapade a few summers ago – I can’t remember his name but he will forever be known as Flaccid Man from Colorado. My partner in crime does not subscribe to the same theory I do about not bumping uglies with coworkers – she had it bad for Bryan on the 34th floor of where she worked. We were out on a Saturday night in our shortest of dresses – well without seeming toooo trampy; I wasn’t that hard up. Anyway, it’s about midnight and we changed locations to the bar across from her apartment when oh hot damn: there was Bryan! We make our way over and the generic pleasantries are exchanged and I am immediately stuck wing-manning it with Flaccid Man. He’s telling me how he’s from Colorado and has rock hard abs from all his mountain climbing – yes, he tried to get me to ‘punch him in the stomach as hard as I could.’ I made him buy me a shot instead and told him violence is never the answer. My friend was making progress with Bryan, I was definitely not feeling Mr. Ab-tastic but such is life when you are the wingman – come to think of it, he may have been the original ‘Situation’ just years before his time.

The party ends up back at my friend’s apartment and she is showing off her massive collection of Coldplay in her iTunes being streamed through her aging laptop as she sits on Bryan’s lap and they start going at it, not so much caring that Flaccid Man and I are sitting directly across from them not really feeling the smooth sounds of "Yellow."  Bryan finally comes up for air when his cellular device all but vibrates right out of his pocket. The four of us finally start chatting again while my friend is attempting to play bartender with her two favorite liquors – Absolute Pear and Midori – to this day, I cannot drink or even smell anything made with either ingredient. Anyway, Bryan starts to lecture us all on the importance of giving up material possessions and living a simpler life. He was planning on selling his car and walking to work and even thought about going without the fancy new cell phone he bought. Just between us, I think the fact that he just bought a house he could barely afford has more to do with his ‘lean’ lifestyle, but hey: if he wants the world to think he’s a simple-Simon, go for it; I didn’t want on him so he can use every line in the book for all I cared.

Bryan and my friend make their way back to the boudoir finally and there I am stuck with the wrong kind of 6 pack in my face. I decide that I was going to get changed and pass out on the couch and he was left to his own devices. I go into the bathroom, which doesn’t have a functioning lock, brush my teeth and get changed after one final pit stop to evacuate all that midori and pear vodka. As I’m sitting there mid-stream, Flaccid Man opens the door standing there in his birthday suit showing off his no longer erect self with the condom now having trouble staying on. Just take a minute to process this. I don’t know about you, but this whole scene is enough to make me go flaccid! I couldn’t help but laugh and bust out a ‘Seriously?! you should always knock on the hard wood before you enter.’ I finish my biology break, wash up and go back out to the living room to find that Flaccid Man left and took my clothes with him, well that didn’t really matter since I was planning on staying over, I had a few changes of clothes. I see him run down the street and open the door – not to chase after him, but to make sure the door at the bottom of the stairs into the complex was locked so he couldn’t get back in. I realized that he left some of my clothes in a trail down the steps and the rest out on the step – not sure what that was attempting to accomplish but I got all my textiles back with no foreign solids or liquids on them.

I went to sleep for a few hours then woke up to an apartment smelling of sex and midori – I left before the happy couple made an appearance. I rewarded my wing man efforts with a breakfast sandwich and a large coffee then headed home to wash off whatever the hell happened the night before. Bryan and my friend bumped uglies a few more times before it morphed into just awkward run-ins in the elevator at work. Flaccid Man returned to Colorado and I am still out there every weekend fighting the good fight and living the dream hoping to find my Knight in standing Trojan with an aversion to green alcohol. A girl can dream.

Point of Conversation: When a guy constantly focuses your attention on his rigid abs, he’s probably over compensating for blood flow not being able to make it all the way to his Magic Johnson. If you don’t mind a relationship of sexual frustration – punch away at those abs since that may be the only release you get.



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