Self-Awareness

Chapter TWO: You Need To Get Out More

Read the first chapter. It's been AWHILE since I posted here, hopefully I can be more productive in the future. These ideas were loosely influenced off of my real life experiences, combined with missed opportunities and personal fantasies. The story is complete fiction; however many of the situations are exaggerations based off real life. Most of the names in this series have been changed, except for the people I hate.

Feedback is always welcome. Thanks for reading!

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SCENE ONE: Santa Isn't Real

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"Everything leads to pussy."

I was enjoying such a quiet, comfortable breakfast before my idiot roommate had to interrupt my peace.

I gave my plucky roommate a confused look as I hovered a spoonful of cornflakes over my shiny white bowl of cereal. A small drop of milk fell from the bottom of my spoon and landed into a pile of empty calories and milk. What the hell is Dylan up to now?

"Morning to you too," I mumbled. I foresaw a senseless conversation approaching.

Dylan was standing right outside his room, dressed in only his baggy grey pajama bottoms. He inched closer to the kitchen table and sat down in front of me. The look of determination on his face cannot be missed.

"Everything leads to pussy, Ryan," he repeated. "I am the reason you fucked that hot Asian chick."

I knew I smelt something fishy. Dylan and his 'girlfriend' Megan tried to hook me up with an oompaloompa last night. Annalisa was her name. I'm sure she's a decent girl, but I didn't want to get involved with someone driven by the motives of my friends. Call me selfish. Plus it didn't help she was atrocious looking.

Anyways, this whole journey was to nab a girl by myself. It was to overcome my recent depressive attitude towards sex, work, and life in general.

Then along came Kerry. Like a dues ex machina, appearing right before my very eyes. This sex angel floated towards me at the party while I was talking to her beautiful blonde friend Wendy. Kerry wasn't just any normal 23 year old girl. We had some history. I had a teenaged crush on her back in the good ol' days of high school. Our history and deep emotions started to unravel once we started conversing about our relationships and situations in life. The sex we had wasn't anchored to the past; it was about getting what we both finally wanted. What we both deserved.

Dylan's statement about how he was the reason why I hooked up with Kerry was just plain wrong. I did it by myself. Plus the vision of my sex romp with Kerry was still fresh in my mind. It did just happen like 10 hours ago.

"Is that so?" I asked.

Dylan straightened his back. His arms were folded and he closed his eyes, as if he were meditating. "Give me a word. Any word."

"A word for what?" I asked.

"I'm about to prove to your ungrateful ass how everything leads to that sweet, juicy promise land known as... the vagina."

I was puzzled. What was Dylan really up to? Is this some sort of mind trick he's pulling on me? "Fine, you said any word right? Tire. Like a tire on a car," I mumbled with a mouthful of corn flakes.

Dylan shifted his posture into a slouching position, then raised his crummy head and looked precisely at me. I seriously didn't know what he was up to.

"Okay. A tire is made out of rubber. Rubber is also a slang term for a condom. A condom is used on a penis. And that condom-covered penis goes inside a vagina. BOOM!"

I pushed my bowl of cereal to the side with a small grin on my face. "Really? So you crawled out of bed and disrupted my breakfast for that?"

Dylan slammed his fist into the kitchen table. "Another word, damn it!" Dylan shouted. He seemed so determined, yet at the same time disappointed I didn't match his same passion. I guess I should keep playing along.

"September 11th," I said, with the intention to stump Dylan in his own stupid game.

"Okay. 9/11. Hijacked planes crashed into the twin towers. Extremist Muslims hijacked those planes. Their motives to hijack the planes were based on their misguided religious beliefs. Because of this, according to their misguided beliefs, they were promised 72 virgins in the afterlife once they blew themselves the fuck up. And now they're buttfucking 72 virgins in heaven."

I just looked at him with one eye larger than the other. "I hate to say it, but that's fucked up and quite impressive."

"Thank you," Dylan said with a wide grin.

"You do know that having sex with a butthole isn't technically the vagina," I fired back.

"Don't belittle my point! You got the gist right?" he retorted.

I let out a conquered sigh. "So remind me, what does buttfucking virgins in heaven have anything to do with me again?"

"Oh, I was just connecting the dots on how I got you laid last night," he said.

"Well nothing happened between us," I said quietly, looking at my cornflakes swimming in a pool of milk.

"Bull fucking shit. You came home this morning at around 10:00am. What the fuck did you two do all night?" he questioned, raising his voice.

Dylan's loud mouth woke up Megan, who shuffled her way out from Dylan's room and into the hallway. I could hear her approaching from how her socks scuffled on the hardwood floor. Last night at the party she had long, ravenous hair flowing from her scalp and landing softly onto her back. This morning, her hair transformed into a frizzy, intertwined mess. She's the definition of someone with bedhead.

"What the fuck are you two on about?" she asked in a raspy, groggy voice.

She fixed an oversized white shirt that belonged to Dylan over her petite body. Her toned legs poked from under that shirt, with her thighs glistening from the sunrays that pierced through the living room window. Her makeup was washed away, but she still looked incredible without any added powders, chemicals, or creams smeared across her face. She was a knockout. In other words, she's attractive no matter what time of day it was. And again, no I'm not going to bang Megan. Just being the good ol' descriptive person that I am.

"Babe, sorry to wake ya." Dylan brushed his fingers across her face. "I was just trying to pry some information about Ryan's sexual adventure from last night."

Megan shook her head at me and began walking towards the kitchen table. "You know Kerry has a boyfriend right? A long-term boyfriend?!"

"Oooooooooooo!" Dylan gasped as if he was part of an audience in a sitcom. Boy do I really hate sitcoms.

Megan giggled at Dylan's response. "Don't worry Ryan; I'm not the type of girl that spreads rumors." She winked at me, like a devious kitty cat.

I gave her a knowingly nod. Oddly enough, I don't know much about Megan. We never had a chance to get to know each other, other than the usual information you would list in the About Me section on Facebook. For all I know, she could be the biggest tattle tale ever.

"So how did you seal the deal with this chick?" Dylan asked. "Did you use the classic 'my pet just died so I saved a Google image of a random puppy and pretend that it was my recently dead dog' technique?"

"No. Actually I didn't do anything clever or smooth. I was myself for once. I told her the truth." I responded.

"The truth? Man you're funny," Dylan laughed. His laughter came to a screeching, serious halt. "Wait, so are you finally admitting that you had sex with her?"

I peeked at Megan before I gave an answer. She's the one that could manipulate this into a disaster. She could run off with her girlfriends and gossip about this whole thing. I feel like I'm back in high school, and those were the most obnoxious four years of my life.

"We had a good night, how about that?" I finally gave in.

Dylan and Megan both smiled at each other.

They both smiled... why did they smile? Wait, I know those smiles. Oh fuck, I hate this strange sensation I'm having. The room grew darker. I felt weak. My bones shook and crumbled like graham crackers. The bowl of cereal right in front of my hands looked as if it was out of my reach. I remember this sensation now. That old well-known feeling of... deception.

"Hey, I fucked her, alright?!" I yelled at the bottom, middle, and top of my lungs.

"Whoa, okay yeah we got it. You had a 'good night' with her. No need to yell." Dylan chuckled with Megan.

"No, it was me and only me. I fucked her. I am the reason why I fucked her. You two didn't do shit! You guys didn't help so quit saying you did. It was all me. I did it all. Stop saying you were responsible for the things that I've done. IT WAS FUCKING ME!"

Dylan and Megan seemed spooked by my sudden outburst, but Dylan cracked a smile even wider.

"Yo, listen to this guy. Me, me, me. We got a fucking Kanye over here eating all our cornflakes." Dylan said, egging me on.

"Seriously Dylan, don't even start man. Sometimes I don't even know why I hang out with you," I fired back. He saw that I wasn't joking. We normally joke around even on serious matters. But for me at the time, this matter was too serious to joke about.

There was an uneasy tranquility in the kitchen area as my cornflakes had grown soggy, drowning in milk and betrayal.

"Plus, you two wanted me to hook up with Annalisa. Stop making shit up and taking credit for something I'm actually capable of doing for once." I added.

Dylan continued to smile, but Megan had enough. "We gotta tell him," she said while looking at Dylan.

"Tell me what?" I asked.

Megan sat down next to Dylan, holding his hand on the table like they were going to give me some bad news at a doctor's office.

"Look, Ryan. I told Kerry you were going to be at the party. I showed her your Facebook page. She knew about the little crush you had with her back then." Megan looked at Dylan. His face was sincere. Why are they taking this so serious? Why am I taking this so serious?

"Okay, wait. That doesn't make sense. Kerry didn't recognize me. I was a fat fuck back in high school. She kept complimenting about how different I looked now. If she saw my Facebook then she woulda known how I looked like now."

"I don't know Ryan. All I showed her was your profile picture and a few random pictures with you, me, and Dylan. Plus she's kinda insane and loves to act stupid in certain situations. Maybe she didn't recognize you because pictures are so different than in real life. Or maybe she wanted to put on a front so she could break the ice with you," Megan responded.

"She never responded to my texts after you guys left Annalisa's place. Or this morning either. She's probably with Xavier right now," Megan added.

"Speaking of Annalisa. I thought you two were hooking me up with her. You can't say you weren't. Everyone at the fucking party knew about that. Are you saying you did some fucking Ocean's Eleven type of shit and orchestrated a crazy ass scheme to hook me up with Kerry? And had this Annalisa thing as a cover for it!? Also you knew Kerry was still with Xavier for however many years, why hook me up with her!? Explain that to me!" I demanded.

"We didn't orchestrate a crazy ass plan. We just set the pieces together and watched how it played out. Yes, we told some people about you and Annalisa. However, Kerry was a plan B. We knew that if she was at the party and saw you, she would be riding your ass throughout the night. I personally didn't expect it to happen that quickly."

I pushed my bowl of cereal away from me. Like a little toddler not wanting to eat his vegetables.

"And with the whole Xavier thing, Kerry's been bored with him for a long time now. That's all she talks about whenever I hang out with her. She cheated on him a couple of times during these past few weeks. Their relationship is going to shit," Megan added.

I stared at Megan in disbelief. Who does she think she is for even trying to strategize something like this for me? They truly believe I can't go out and get a girl by myself.

"Think of us like your parents," Dylan finally chimed in. "We could tell you that Santa is real, but one day we're going to tell you the truth. You know, that he doesn't really exist. Not because we don't want to lie to you, because people lie all the time. It's because we don't want this Santa fucker taking credit for the sweet gifts we gave you for Christmas. It was our gifts that we bought with our own money!"

"Shut it," I aimed at Dylan. "You two honestly don't think I had some part in me having sex last night? You're not giving me any credit at all? I sat down next to your hot friend Wendy and sparked a conversation with her. I'm the one that engaged conversation with Kerry. I'm the one that went to her place and fucked on her bed. That will get no credit at all?!"

"Everything leads to pussy, Ryan." Dylan repeated. "Without us inviting you over to Annalisa's party, you wouldn't have gotten laid. Accept that."

I was drained. This was going nowhere. "Yeah fuck this. I'm going out."

"Where you going? You finished all the cereal and now you're leaving?" Dylan asked.

"Fine, I'm sorry I ate all your precious fucking cereal. I'll stop by the grocery store. I just need to get the fuck out of this house right now and clear my head."

"Ryan, please realize that we were just trying to help," Megan apologetically uttered.

"You wanna get high before you go?" Dylan asked, pointing at the pipe on our coffee table.

I didn't respond to them. I placed my bowl in the sink and went to put on my shoes.

Man, the fucking nerves on these two to think that I need to be hand-held to score with a chick. If I did it yesterday, I could certainly do it in the future. It can't be a one-time thing. It can't be because Kerry was already into me or that she's having a shitty relationship with her boyfriend. My confidence had something to do with it, right?

Plus, that's not how it works. Girls don't throw themselves on guys. Men are the ones that have to approach women. They ask them out. The women are the gatekeepers. They need to say 'yes' or 'no' to the offer. That's how it's been since forever. Chicks don't go up to men and jump their bones. That's some fantasy shit. It's what all men wish would happen because they're too scared to ask a girl out. But it never happens. The fear of rejection is heartbreaking. That's why in porn, the women are always the aggressive ones. They approach the men with a clear message to have sex. The men in porn are the ones that have to say 'yes' or 'no'. But in reality, confidence is the main attribute. To not fear rejection or heartbreak. I still think I have some of that confidence in me from last night.

I tied my loose shoelaces, grabbed my car keys and headed out the door.

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SCENE TWO: Frustration

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I need to get out of here. I need to smoke. I reached for my pockets and pulled out my cigarettes. There was only one left rattling around in the crumpled up box. And stupid ol' me, I forgot to bring my lighter. Because of my frustration, I left the house without it. And, for some reason, the cigarette lighter in my truck doesn't work. I should really fix that. Well, fuck it. I'll head to the grocery store and buy a new lighter along with a fresh pack.

On the way to the parking lot, I was feeling the cravings. My body was shivering. I felt like a gay crack addict. And the fact that I was driving ten miles per hour in a busy parking lot, watching fat ladies waddle to their car pushing a shopping cart filled with frozen burritos and Dr. Pepper, wasn't helping. I was going to park in the first open parking spot I saw.

The sun blinded my face as I exited my truck. That woke me up. Walking to the entrance I saw two black chicks standing next to a Redbox. They were laughing and smoking cigarettes. Such a fucking beautiful cigarette. It was something about the way their thick lips wrapped around that long skinny cylinder; taking a puff and releasing a cloud of carbon monoxide and liberation. Jesus Christ, how I needed some nicotine in my system right now.

Smokers are usually generous people. The ones that I've encountered, at least, were generous. I'm usually the one that hands out a cig to a guy that's begging for one. But from my experiences, I've had some great conversations with smokers. It's the one thing that could bring total strangers together. We shared something in common, which is slowly killing ourselves. And isn't that something we can all relate to? I'm sure these two girls are willing to let me spark my last cigarette.

"Hey," I said, breaking their conversation as they focused their attention onto me.

"Hi," replied the girl on the left. She was the taller of the two, but only by a few inches. Her body was much skinnier than her friend on the right. The curls in her black hair blocked a portion of her right eye, as I scrolled down her gaunt face and stopped at her collarbone. There was a small tattoo of an unrecognizable symbol near her shoulder. Her breasts were small, but were proportional to her frame. The red short-sleeved shirt she wore contrasted her darker skin. She was also sporting some tight black yoga pants that defined her petite legs. She began to take another drag off her cigarette, with the filter covered of sugary saliva and pink lipstick.

"Sorry to bother you ladies, just wondering if I could get a light?" I asked.

The two girls looked at each other, and then giggled. For some reason, seeing them smile made me nervous. I wasn't nervous when I approached them, but making them smile forced my eyes to stare at my shoes. I really need some new shoes.

"So, big boy. You wanna use our lighter, huh?" the girl on the right asked. Her smile was sunny and bright. Her warm, unnaturally blonde hair flowed straight onto her shoulders. She was much curvier than her friend. I could tell she had a nice round ass just from staring at her from the front. She had a nice rack as well; I'm guessing a C-cup. Her tight, white tank top showed off her fantastic cleavage. Cocking her wide hips, she stood confident, showing off her caramel legs in her short jean shorts. She captured the essence of a Beyoncé song, too bad her physicality couldn't match the image of the singer. But who am I really to complain?

"Don't feel so special. She calls everyone 'big boy'," said the taller girl on the left.

"Thanks, now I don't feel so special anymore," I chuckled. They both looked at each other and smiled again. "So, can I get a light?"

"You look like shit," said the curvy girl on the right. It seemed like the bitch couldn't answer a fucking yes or no question with a yes or a no. And here I thought smokers were polite.

The taller girl pointed her finger at me. "She's trying to study you. She's taking psychology. Now she thinks she understands human behavior and shit."

"So, does she insult every person she studies?" I asked.

"Pretty much, yeah," the taller girl replied.

The curvy girl closed her eyes and began to take another drag off her cigarette. She was teasing me with the sound of the cigarette tip crackling through the air. God damn this chick was getting on my nerves.

Then she exhaled. "Listen boy. I'll let you use our lighter if you answer my question," the curvy girl asked.

I felt defeated. Where the hell is this going today? First it was Dylan's stupid game, and now this chick is playing with me. I surrendered to her weird game and gave in. "Fine, whatever. What's the question?"

"What's your story?"

"My story? What do you mean? Would you like to know where I was born? Or how I drove here from my house? You gotta be more specific than that."

"Never mind then," she sighed as she fixed her white tank top. Her tits jiggled from the motion. She caught me staring at her gorgeous rack and my eyes darted back at my dirty shoes.

"Negative body language. Problems with eye contact. I'm still studying you, by the way," the curvy girl announced. Her tall friend gave her a nod.