I had been drunk for two days straight and it was the morning of my birthday. I miserably ignored the plethora of texts, calls and facebook messages that were keeping my phone vibrating against my thigh, sure that none of them were from the one person I wanted.
I hadn’t showered, changed, eaten… the most activity I could muster within myself was the abrupt movement of pouring another vodka. It was the kind of heartbreak that was all-consuming and I withdrew into the black hole that enveloped my being, sure I was never to be happy again. I didn’t even fight it, I allowed the tears to come when they did and suffer my own miserable company for hours.
It was only that evening when some friends forced me to join their ranks for a few birthday drinks that I left my self-inflicted solitude and endeavoured to wash the vodka and mould from my skin.
It was in the wee hours of that morning, after seven tequilas and copious ciders, I met Mike. He probably was one of the weirdest boys I have ever had the misfortune to take home, yet the hilarity of my experience is too surreal not to share. Broken-hearted and vulnerable, Mike was just the thing I needed to boost my self-esteem and after boozing for most the evening, any doubt was quickly eradicated or silent altogether.
He was very tall and skinny, but not bad looking though I do think years of smoking weed contributed to a somewhat eccentric personality.
Upon discovery that he hadn’t any condoms on his person, I popped out to the garage up the road to purchase some while he requested to use my shower.
Don’t judge me too harshly, I was a broken girl and my decisions were severely affected by all the alcohol I had consumed. When I returned to my flat, Mike was still in the shower. At the time I thought nothing of it.
I had almost fallen asleep on the couch when he emerged with only one of my towels wrapped around his narrow hips.
If anything, he was attentive but the strange groans that came from his mouth each time he kissed me really put me off. “Mmmm, yeah. Mmm, oh baby. Mmmm, yes.” Like, what the fuck? Who does that in real life? I mean, sure… you hear that shit in porn, but there? On my couch?
On the brink of hysterical laughter and tears, I pushed aside the towel… holy mother of God, this boy was hung! He had the biggest penis I had ever held (still to this day, I might add). My fingers would not meet as they curled around his girth and the heaviness and length only contributed to his inability to sustain turgidity for any lengthy period of time. Certainly not long enough for me to get a condom on…
“You know what will work, baby?” he attempted to purr seductively. I looked at him questioningly, quite sure that at this point I was no longer amused. “If you suck my nipple. That always works.”
“No. I’m tired, I think I’ll just go to bed.”
So I didn’t sleep with Mike, though I’m sure his penis might have done something no other has done before yet I do not regret this fortunate series of events at all. Turns out Mike is a bit of a nut… he claims to be a porn star nowadays (though with an enormous beast of an appendage like that, I am certainly not surprised) and days after our meeting he spewed clingy, needy messages my way with such urgency that it was no wonder I hardly wanted anything to do with him.
No, wait. That wasn’t the reason.
Once I had dropped Mike off at his house the following morning (surprise, surprise, he didn’t have a car), and returned to my apartment to mire myself in yet more vodka, I discovered just what he had been doing in my shower for so long…
I was overwhelmed with rage, disbelief, hilarity and revulsion… The damned fool had spent over an hour shaving his pubic region and hadn’t even thought about cleaning up after himself. The entire bath tub was lathered with coarse, black hair and I was left to clean that shit up, barely containing the heaving contents of my hungover stomach.
My entire bathroom received a thorough bleaching that day.
And what’s worse? Which fucking razor do you think he used? Mine?! Well, that was a whole lot of money in the garbage as I couldn’t be sure which one he chose.
The lot of them were tossed in the trash.
Jesus Christ, boys are gross.