|
SEX SUCKS AS BADLY AS CHURCH 
by Hugo de Mare
Sex is way out there, man–I mean, it’s a joke. What does that thing do, where does this go, when is it too early to touch that, when can I take a shower? What a mess. Too many unknowns. Plus I need the sleep. Give me a solid forty winks over titty hi jinks any day.
Staying at the bar 4 or 5 extra rounds, long after I should have called
it a night, burning money and brain cells I didn’t have just in case I
might meet someone. Buddy, you’re drunk, and even if she isn’t ugly,
by now you are, so just go on home. Or worse, the nights I stayed
awake until 4 or 5 am when I actually did meet some poor girl,
wondering if I was supposed to do more, or less, to make the night
special, and by that I mean get it over with.
And how can you tell when a girl’s asleep so you can fart?Your
digestive system, your wallet, your sleep schedule, your moral compass,
everything goes shithouse just so you can get your rocks off with some
unlucky gal who has to pretend she’d like to see you again sometime,
here’s her number, take care, call me.Call you.Sure.What
the hell are you supposed to say to a woman after you’ve hooked up,
anyway? How are you, how’s the job hunt going, remember that slurping
sound your pussy made right before you came, not much, just at work,
and you? What a crock of absolute dogshit. Last time I saw you, you
were groaning ‘don’t stop’ in a hotel room in Vegas, how am I ever
supposed to take you seriously again? ‘Don’t stop.’ ‘Harder.’ What
is this, a fucking movie? And that ain’t all, man, she’s seen
you naked, too, if I’m understanding how these things go. You ain’t
got any cool left after someone’s seen you naked. She’s not going to
fall for any of the shit that got you in her bed or on her friend’s
couch in the first place, none of the bits that loosened her up with
laughter, none of the coy shyness that impressed her last night...she’s
seen your hairy balls man, you got nowhere to go! I find myself in
mid-sentence with a woman I’ve just nailed and it occurs to me, ‘this
crazy bitch shaves her pussy, for fuck’s sake!’ Where the hell does
that leave you? You can’t have a sensible conversation with a woman
knowing that kind of shit. Then I remember the pimples on my back and
the rash on my inner thigh and realize I’ve left myself with nothing to
hide behind. I know some people who really enjoy having sex.
It’s fun for them. Man, do I envy that. At least then it’s worth the
hangover, the hassle, and the humility. I go through it all and don’t
even enjoy the act, it’s just some kind of necessary evil, like how
some quiet neighbor that everyone loves has to chop up babies and feed
them to his dogs every other week just so he can face the day. I’m
compelled to stick around on the off chance that sex might present
itself, even though all I really want is a good night’s sleep. Hitting
the bars is like putting on your most uncomfortable Sunday clothes and
going to church to pretend that you believe in something, even though
you know damn well there aren’t any forces of good out there. But you
gotta go, cuz hey, who wants to disappoint their folks and damn
themselves to an eternity of hellfire all in one morning? Here
you are, fidgeting, scrutinizing the program to get an accurate
estimate of when you might finally get the hell out, checking out the
neighborhood girls just to make it bearable...on a Sunday, dammit! Get
them goddamned clothes off, crack open a Bud and watch the damn game!
Surely God loves football. Why does he hate us so much? Hey,
God, listen, it’s been a lot of fun. Yeah, I’d love to hang out again
too. I mean, I don’t usually–not that you do, I just–I’m not the kind
of guy that normally, I mean, this kind of thing doesn’t happen to me a
lot, is all. Yeah, that’d be great. Call me sometime. |
