Someday
I will have a son. It may happen through proper coitus, or—and
this is considerably more likely—it
may happen when a fertile young woman sits obliviously on a public toilet
seat still wet with my jizzum. But regardless of the circumstances that
bring my son into the world, I will tell him to fuck. I will tell him
to fuck indiscriminately. I will tell him to fuck every woman he knows.
When is
the Appropriate Age to Tell Your Son to Fuck?
As
soon as he has ears. Forget everything you have ever held true about
age-appropriate sex education. At the moment his head emerges sloppily
from his bitter mother's nethers, you should bellow into his uncomprehending
face, at the top of your lungs, "Son, you must fuck!"
Yell it with enough conviction
that it causes your new son to cry in terror. That cry tells you that
your words have hit their mark, and your son has already embarked
on the path to wisdom.
There
is a Point to This
Every socially
inept man has had to deal with the regret of missed opportunities, of
times when had he not been so woefully incompetent he might have asked
a woman out on a date, or at least walked past her slowly with a conspicuous
erection. But a far more painful regret comes from those times when
a woman actually flirts with you and all you can do is wince at the
inevitability and imminence of the moment at which you fuck it all up.
Now I will
look back wistfully and sadly at a couple of those moments when I should
have fucked, and right could have fucked, but did not, either because
of incompetence or fear. I offer this knowledge for socially inept men
everywhere, not so you can believe you are normal, but so you can be
comforted with the knowledge that I will always be here to share your
anguish.
TARA -
1993
When I think
about Tara now, I mostly remember her beautiful light brown eyes. But
back then, when I was actually sitting across from her at International
House of Pancakes, I could only focus on her mustache and her puffy
cheeks.
She tapped
two cigarettes out of a pack and turned them around, putting them back
in the package filter-side-down. "One for good luck, one for good
fuck," she said. That struck me as an awesomely slutty thing to
say. About an hour later she asked me if I wanted to try dating her
for a while. As my cock began to stir from its ancient slumber, all
my stupid brain and nervous face could say was, "No, I'm pretty
good like this." It was the last time Tara ever went anywhere with
me.
It all seems
so crazy now. There's nothing wrong with big cheeks. And the mustache?
Jesus Christ, who doesn't have a mustache these days?
This leads
me to:
Aaron's
First Axiom of Social Ineptitude
No matter how disgusted you are by the woman whose advances you reject,
there will come a day when you regret not having fucked her.
And oh, how
now I wish I had plowed the brown of that cow.
Aaron's First
Axiom is closely related to:
Aaron's
Second Axiom of Social Ineptitude
No matter how disgusted you are by the woman that you just fucked,
there will come a day when you look back fondly on the memory of fucking
her.
LORI -
1996
Lori was an
anomaly. A beautiful girl who was with me on a third date. A third
date, for the love of Christ. As the night was drawing to a close
and I brought her back to her apartment, I asked what we should do next.
"We could
have sex?" was her game reply.
With magnificent
stupidity, I said "No..."
What Lori didn't
know is that she had, by cosmic and unfortunate coincidence, started
dating me during the only week in my life when I could have been described
as being on a morality kick. I wanted to wait a while before
I had sex, until it was meaningful again. In other words, I
had become a great big fag.
Lori was stunned,
and tried not to cry. It occured to me later that it was probably the
first and last time in her life that she would be turned down for sex.
She promptly kicked me out of her apartment and never talked to me again.
The next day,
I met up with my buddy Jason the Security Guard and told him what happened.
He thought about it a moment then let out a laugh and said, "I
have to be honest man, I don't know if I should punch you in the face
or shake your hand."
He should have
punched me in the face with one of his bullets and spared me from the
next 12 years of regret.
[EDITOR'S NOTE:
This entire article was written so Aaron could have an excuse to
write "How now I wish I had plowed the brown of that cow".
Though, as nice as that sentence is, it doesn't make up for his use
of the cheesy line, "Lori was an anomaly."]
