06 February 2012

Mr. Math

So despite the bullying back in the day, I did find moments that got me through those wretched years: hanging with the girls; reading The Babysitters Club book series; and crushing on my teachers.

Looking back, Mr. Joyce was really not all that attractive, but he had a mastery of his craft in Mathematics that was pretty impressive. Ok, long division was hard back then, but even for a 4th grader who was still figuring out why this white stuff kept oozing out of my cock everytime it was rubbed while erect, he was amazing. He was a peculiar one: he clearly had his favorites in the class which was something that was odd to pick up on so early in my childhood. He enjoyed Joe - a lot - who was the cute all-American kid with spikey hair which he used to run his hands over like he were making a wish on a lucky troll. It made me so jealous. But now it just makes me vomit. Perve.

Fast forward nearly 20 years later.

I went to my grade school reunion with a bunch of girlfriends. We all decided to get drunk behind the special ed. trailers that were adjacent to the school. It was hilarious. We headed into the reunion reception wasted and took the tour. Everything seemed so small and we all talked about how "we remember when . . ." It was so funny. At the end of each hall of each floor, there were wine set-ups so needless to say, we stayed hammered throughout the evening. We left the tour group we were with and snuck into the main office where the PA system was and locked ourselves in. We made silly announcements like "Mary: please pick up your tampons; your mother said that you will be needing them this week" and "John: please come out already; you are fooling no one - except for Janice." Needless to say, we were eventually told to get out by Mr. Joyce. And that's when it happened.

Mr. Joyce was married and had a kid which was an absolute conundrum to most of us by the time we graduated the 8th grade. Closet case was not in my working vocabulary yet. We didn't understand how someone who was so flamboyant was able to land a wife and keep it hard long enough to knock her up. Truth be told, he explained all and came out to the group as an out and proud gay man a la Governor McGreevey. My friend took it upon herself to play match maker. Typical het: he's gay, you're gay, why don't you be gay together? (Look for my "Shit Girls Say to Gay Guys" Tubular Tuesdays post tomorrow.) We all ended up going to the neighborhood diner where we not so secretly exchanged saliva. Unbeknownst to me, my friend gave my number to Mr. Joyce. When we all went out separate ways, Mr. Joyce continued to text me all night asking me to hang out, come over, blah blah blah. Ugh, why couldn't you be Mr. Henry?

Point of the conversation: Most times the fantasy is better than the reality; opt to pass.

- DeeCue

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