analog

Rebecca had asked the waitress for a glass of milk to use in her coffee. Regular creamer, it seemed, was out of the question.

"That creamer stuff," she said, staring off for a moment before licking her stirrer, "no way of knowing how long it's been sitting around."

I took a sip of my tea and reminded her that there were likely expiration dates on them. She chuckled like I'd just told a joke. Great, I thought, she's nuts. Best first date ever.

She suddenly blurted out, "so, how came we to this lovely little diner?"

'How came we'? Who the hell says 'how came we'? Am I in the Middle Ages? I chuckled to myself as the image of Rebecca being impaled in a jousting match sprang to mind. Her second bit of neurosis was the fact that the 'lovely little diner' we were sitting in was a Denny's, not a secluded "Bed and Breakfast" in New Hampshire.

"As I recall," I started, backpedaling immediately from trapping myself into the same pseudo-intellectual old-English nonsense, "I met you in the library and asked you if you'd like to come get some food with me." I paused for dramatic effect, as I do frequently, and added, "Because you were, and I quote, famished."

My mind was immediately elsewhere, but I could tell she'd started talking because her arms were flailing wildly in the air. All I could think was, my grandmother says famished. This woman talks like she's been trapped in a room all her life with a TV that plays nothing but Golden Girls reruns and Robin Hood and King Arthur movies. Say what you want about his directing career, Kevin Costner was a good Robin Hood.

"So what were you doing there?" suddenly came rushing to me. Having heard nothing else she'd said, I was glad she'd not said asked something like 'do you agree?' Her obvious personality quirks were tempered with an endearing smile, incredibly soulful eyes, and a body so hot that she'd spontaneously initiate puberty in any prepubescent boy within eye shot.

It was at that exact moment that I realized everything I was about to say would be a lie, and knowing so ahead of time wasn't going to stop it.

"Well," I lied, "I'm going into medical school."

"Oh, you're going to be a doctor?" She even seemed to lean towards me a bit more as she smiled wider. She might have been a less obvious gold-digger if she'd just straddled me.

"You like kids?" I asked, smiling back.

"Not that much, no." she said, losing some of her excitement.

That rules out pediatrician. I thought, then immediately offered. "Do you like puppies or kittens?"

She practically screamed, "I loooooooooooooove kitties!!!"

"Then I'm going to be a veterinarian."

Her smile came back to full strength, and even seemed to get a little bigger- something I wasn't sure was physically possible. There's only so much stretching a mouth can do.

...that's what she said.

"That is so great! You're going to help sick little kittens and..." her voiced trailed off in my mind. All I could think about now was her long legs, her ass, and her barely-confined-by-her-shirt breasts.

I pushed my plate forward, ecstatic that we'd eaten before this conversation came up. "I wish we could talk about this more, but it's getting kind of busy and noisy in here."

"Yeah," she pouted audibly, "that's true." She looked down at her coffee a moment, took a sip, and came back with exactly what I was waiting for: "my place is nearby, we could go hang out there for a while."

We were out the front door before I knew what was happening. My mind raced as I thought about what was surely about to be an incredible sexual encounter. Is it wrong to make this woman out to be a piece of meat? Is it really that wrong to just want sex based solely on physical attraction? After all, I wasn't looking to have a relationship; I just wanted a hot chick who'd let me put my penis in her. Being all about looks is not such a bad thing. Lots of people are shallow, like puddles. We're all just puddles in a sexual rainstorm.

She took us to her apartment and we sat down on the couch. Before I'd even said anything, she had her hand on my thigh. I wanted to lunge at her, bury my face in her ample cleavage, and thank God. Instead, I felt nothing. Her hand on my thigh, sliding slowly towards my zipper, had done nothing to inspire the lewd pervert inside of me.

I know I'm a relationship guy, I thought to myself, but PLEASE tell me that I can still fuck a chick who I don't care about.

The next several minutes were an exercise in torture. She withdrew her hand which had made its way to my crotch, and pulled her shirt off. I leaned in to kiss her, offering some semblance of emotional connection to my still-flaccid penis. As we kissed, I removed her bra and began to grope at her breasts as though my life depended on it- indeed, it was my erection that required it. I felt a stir, but I was still useless. If that didn't do it, It's not going to happen.

She stood up and removed the rest of her clothing. She knelt before me and opened up my pants. She even started to touch me, using her tongue on me. I was now flying half-mast. It was both a useless gesture for intercourse and a stunning metaphor for my libido's sudden death.

I put my pants back on and hung my head in shame (the big one- the little one had been doing that all along). I apologized, offered a lame excuse about getting home to walk a dog I don't actually have, and excused myself from her apartment.

Walking down the street, too upset with myself to even bother hailing a cab, I looked up to the heavens and wondered aloud, "was that really necessary?" I walked on a bit and spotted a very plain-looking woman at a newsstand, thumbing through some video game and geeky computer magazines. The front of my pants immediately tightened.

My libido is an asshole... but damnit, do I love geeky chicks.




------------------------

I'm tired and not totally happy with it, feel free to give me feedback.