Guest Blog: The Taming of The Shrub

This story took place in the Fall of 2007. I had just stumbled back from a party. I had already consumed too much booze and snorted too many lines and I was ready to drink more and hop back on the horse for a few more hours at an afterparty, but the girl I came back with (Laura) didn't give me that option. Laura dragged me into my apartment and I really didn't feel any need to assert myself and keep partying since hooking up and late nighting are perfect substitutes as far as I'm concerned. We were hooking up in my bed and--in a rush mentally--I quickly got our clothes off. I was focused, I had no patience on that night. Of course, she wanted to do more beforehand and I understood, so I continued doing nearly everything that one can do before banging. Finally, she told me that she really wanted me to go down on her. I'm pretty indifferent towards it, but my rule in bed is that I'll do close to anything if I know the girl will enjoy it. But Laura wasn't shaven, and although this is common, for whatever reason, on this night, I was not tolerating it.

Then suddenly, I had a thought. I didn't tell her no, despite not wanting to do it, nor did I just suck it up and do it, I didn't even say a word to her, I just got up, went to my bathroom and started rummaging through my cabinet with the urgency of a man who had snorted a half gram of yay earlier in the night (...oh wait). I came back to my bedroom about thirty seconds later with the object that I had been searching for and moved my trash can towards the bed.

"Landing strip or all off?" I asked, as if this were a normal question.

There was a long awkward pause.

"...........Landing strip" Laura Replied. There wasn't even a hint of shock in her voice. In retrospect, this is surprising.

The object was an electric shaver, I immediately plugged it in, did some threshing, and, once satisfied with my work, began muff diving.

I crossed a line I didn't even know existed. At a loss for a reasonable explanation, I can only quote the wise words of the late Rick James: "Cocaine is a hell of a drug." My mind was jumping rapidly from place to place. I went straight from thinking, "I don't feel like it" to realizing "Wait i have an electric shaver!!!!" as opposed to just choosing whether to go down or not to go down. But what the hell, at least it showed initiative if nothing else. When I woke up the next morning the girl was gone and I had a pounding headache. I thought that I might have just imagined the last night's occurrence but one look into my metal mesh trash can gave me all of the evidence I needed (and more than I wanted). Anyway, Laura and I no longer talk, I don't think it was because of this specific incident, but probably because I have a dysfunctional lifestyle that leads to such ridiculous shit. I'm pretty sure think she's dating someone now. He should thank me.