Gypsies Tramps and Thieves

by anna at 10:40 AM on April 11, 2003

Talk about tough acts to follow! Go Linz! Go Ezy!

My tale is a bit more pedestrian. First up was Ivy, nominal gal pal of my friend Buck. That episode concluded in a matter of seconds. Next came the David Bowie look-alike Sarah, who introduced me to pearl necklaces. But that too proved embarrassing because after the messy moment of truth, I felt compelled to thank her profusely. She assured me that wasn' necessary. I felt like such a tool.

Then came Tracy, whom you might describe as buxom and big-boned. She was also quite aggressive in bed. Frail twit that I am, I barely survived my harrowing encounters with her. Years later I ran into her at a party. We laughed about the time we almost sunk her parents’ party barge. Our respective mates were less than amused.

On to high school. This was kind of a barren period in part because everyone was too stoned to get horny. That is, until my senior year. Frisky freshman females were literally throwing themselves at me, and I was more than happy to oblige. I remember one nubile lass who cooed, “Do whatever you want, just don’t use me.” Well, that’s as easy a promise to make as it is to break. Problem there was that this R. Kellyesque penchant for porking youths sparked accusations of cradle-robbing among my friends. I cooled it. Reputations are everything at that age.

Things picked up in junior college. Let’s just say my girlfriend Robin had unconventional ideas about how relationships should be conducted. It wasn’t at all unusual to come back to our hovel only to find her cavorting with a pair of guys amid the beer can-strewn squalor. I of course retaliated with a series of revenge trysts. Three in particular spring to mind. One redhead left our bed covered in blood and then sent me out to buy her tampons. Guys back then weren’t as keen on buying tampons as they are today---just put it on the grocery list, honey. Far more heinous was the one who started singing, “You put me high up on a pedestal...” off-key as I hurriedly drove her back to the dorm. I have never felt more uncomfortable in my life. Alex debauched me on the lawn outside her dorm and managed to pilfer my empty wallet in the process.

On to Real College. Two encounters bear mention. Chemistry major Margaret had a fiancee named Tony back home. When we’d go at it she’d pick up his picture from her nightstand and peer at it as she bucked and moaned. She’d also take calls from him and commence to talking dirty in my presence, which I found more than a tad disconcerting. Linda was three inches taller than my elfin ass. This didn’t exactly work wonders for my foundering self-esteem either.

Oh, I almost forgot Crystal the hot factory worker. Imagine my surprise when she struck up a conversation with me as I sat there pretending to read a book, my favorite barroom pickup ploy. “Watcha readin’ sugar,” she asked with a shy smile. Next thing I knew my cheekbone was shattered and I was out cold. Seems Crystal’s ex-husband didn’t take too kindly to college guys chatting with her. He pounded on her door the whole time I pounded her. They later reconciled.

Back home broken-hearted I started dating Buck’s kid sister Donna. When we were making it, I couldn’t help but picture...him. Not because I am gay but because they bore an uncanny resemblance to one another. This too proved to be a major turnoff. Next came a tumultuous long-term relationship with Jan. Suffice it to say that her favorite TV show was The Smurfs. But she sure didn’t act like any Smurfette behind closed doors. (And sometimes open doors. Buck caught quite an eyeful when he barged into my home unannounced.) So the whole time I found myself torn between this huge sexual upside and having to deal with her goofy little-kid demeanor. Again, my friends ribbed me unmercifully.

During the time with Jan my company sent me to New England for six weeks of indoctrination. Housing was in an austere dorm-like setting with drunken, raucous dudes as roommates. I resolved to find alternate arrangements. When I went to the bank to cash my paycheck, I seized upon my opportunity to chat up a swarthy, mustachioed teller. Before long she’d offered me not only free lodging but a whole lot more. Whoever said New Englanders are aloof types hadn’t met Sandra. She introduced me to gal-on-top action, a definite thrill. Problem was she grew quite smitten with me and thus traveled all the way to Virginia for a surprise visit. Let’s just say Jan was less than thrilled when Sandra turned up on my doorstep with suitcase in hand. And there’s nothing worse than an angry Smurfette with PMS.

I must remember to forget.