Will Fuck For Stories

September 21st, 2012.

I’m often asked, in different variations, if whether or not I purposely go out trying to get myself into the situations that I do, just so that I have stories to write about.

Short answer – No, and that’s fucking lame to do.

Long explanation:

For beginners, most of the stories I write, I couldn’t even ‘try’ and have them happen. Honestly, I challenge you, go on another dozen cruises, alone or not, and TRY and find another Claire. In the meantime, I’ll be out snorkeling for the Loch Ness Monster and checking my trail cams for Bigfoot.

TRY and persuade a girl to vomit spinach and artichoke dip onto your baby sprayer as she’s lying to her fiancé about her class just letting out. I suppose anyone can go to Vegas and pay a few extra bills for a fingering sensation, so you got me there, but I stand my ground that it’s going to be extremely hard to find a girl with a cold enough heart to ghost you after making a three hour flight halfway across the country.

(As for finding a vagina that can fit a grown fist into it, I’m chalking that up to inadvertently using my ‘one time’.)

The main reason why I find myself in unconventional situations is because I give less damns, but more hellos. The only reason I ever got the opportunity to go on a rap tour is because I started talking to a random stranger at a poker table. The only reason I met Claire is because…well, I guess my lack of standards, and so that one’s on me, but it still correlates with not giving a damn.

In general, I talk to as many people as I possibly can, and when the alcohol takes over, I begin wandering around like Samwise leaving The Shire for the first time. People love to give the drunk, non-threatening, innocently getting drunker, kid a lot of slack. There’s been numerous times at my home casino in Pittsburgh where I should have without a doubt, been kicked out. Those who know me best though, know that I really don’t mean any harm and because of that I’m granted a lot of passes. Humans naturally react to, and often at least try to, match each other’s energy. I’m high energy with good vibes and I try and surround myself with the same kind of people.

Having said all of this, there’s always an exception to every rule. There is one specific time where the ONLY reason I did what I did was solely for a story. As you can see though, this story happened over six years ago. Even still, there’s only three (at least better be) people on Earth who know what occurred. Until now.

Those three people are myself, one of my closest lifelong friends, and the person who partook in the activity with me. In fact, as I sat at my buddy’s house before taking off, I concerningly asked him if what I’m about to put myself through would be worth the story. Either I’m easily persuaded, or perhaps he can talk a cat off of a fish wagon on his own.

We even discussed how long I should wait before I came clean to the rest of my friends. At first, I suggested on my thirtieth birthday (I was twenty-one at the time). We collectively settle that I’ll let all of the homies know during my bachelor party should I ever get married (which, believe it or not, I can’t wait to someday have a wife and kids). Obviously, I’m not getting married any time soon, and so I figured fuck it – release it early and make a Tale out of it.

I gotta add too, if it wasn’t for me having the utmost trust in this person, this story would have never been executed in the first place. I wouldn’t even consider writing about it either. Now, each of my good friends are going to bombard me with questions trying to find out who the information bearers are. If you really wanna know that badly, step up your wing manning and find me that special someone. Until then, settle down. That information’s on lock.

To make sure identities remain concealed, I’m going to keep certain details at a minimal. I can’t tip any hints.

Let’s pick up as I’m chilling at my friends on this memorable twenty-first day of September. Earlier in the day, I had gotten a friend request from a girl who attended the same high school that we graduated at, followed by a DM. I couldn’t help but jokingly throw charm her way. I never expected it to go anywhere, but I guess even Culpepper would occasionally underestimate his arm strength and over throw Randy.

(Sarcastically to my buddy) – “Dude, I think Jenova definitely wants to bang.”

(Enticing me on) – “Bro, do it.”

I chose to code her name as “Jenova” for a couple of reasons. Since most of you dorks probably never defeated Sephiroth (yes, I talked about this in Tinder Capsules as well), I’ll explain. Sephiroth is, in a way, a failed clone of Jenova and the main antagonist in the game. He was injected with cells from the extraterrestrial lifeform, Jenova, when he was a fetus. In different Final Fantasy’s, Jenova is referred to as ’she’, ‘he’, and at times, ‘it’.

Point is, Jenova is a fucking alien and is not good looking. Jenova is like the abandoned items in Lost and Found that no one cares to come back for and so they get donated to Goodwill, but even Goodwill has standards that these belongings can’t reach and so they get tossed out back in the dumpster.

Evidently, I was dumpster diving this day.

It isn’t that this girl was extremely fat or anything, just overall, on a 1-10 scale, she probably lies somewhere in between a three and a four. Which is also known as Dead Man’s Land because nobody wants to venture there.

Fuck it, let’s go Clark.

For the next hour or two, I relentlessly throw heaves to Moss down the center of the field, contemplating whether or not we should go after the single game record. In the meantime, my buddy continuously sends in deep pass plays from the sidelines.

Before long, the defense gives up, and I decide to instead throw all of my dignity and self-respect aside for the sole purpose of having sex with a girl just so that, years later, I could tell a funny story to my friends. Shockingly, and contrary to most all other Tales, and more pathetically for myself, this was during the time in my life in which I very seldom drank. I broke the single game record without any PED’s.

(Unfortunately, due to the graphic nature of this story, a photo will not be provided.)