The first best word to describe me by is ordinary. The second best word to use is horny as it is possible for a 25 year old young man to be. Add in slender, heavy glasses, insecure, and an almost complete lack of any line of rap?
Well, you get the picture.
The problem with that combination is that to hook up with a female, I have to work harder at it than some of my buds.
Many of the guys I run with use lines that should turn off any woman that hears them. Shit like, "What's a nice place like this doing with a girl like YOU in it?" Har Har Har...and next thing I know they have some bimbo headed out the damn door with them.
If I try that, I hear "Get lost, asshole!"
Hell, one guy I know named Mike and I were headed down the road in his minivan, he spies two gals walking along in shorts and halter tops.
Mike slams on the brakes, yells out the window past me, "Hey, you bitches wouldn't wanta go to the river, would ya?"
I swear, they looked at each other, giggled, and climbed in, one in back and the other right over the top of me to sit by him.
Nothing like that ever works for me. Being 5'8" and slender at 140#, dark framed glasses a bit on the thick side, I find myself with the leftovers most of the time. It doesn't help that my ears stick out, either.
Even worse, I am scared shitless of catching some disease, so it's condoms or nothing. But all anyone has to do is pull one of those damn things out and I wilt.
So dating and then getting to the point of maybe actually having sex means, "Hey! How's about you and I go have blood tests?"
Real romantic crap. I just never figured out a way to approach the subject without stammering and feeling stupid.
That means I spend a lot of time with solo sexuality. Sure, there was the one time with a gal named Sandra, I spent the next 30 days checking the end of my pecker morning, noon, and night and just wouldn't do it with her again until I was sure. Then I knocked on Mike's door one morning and she answered wearing nothing but one of his towels, so that ended that.
Mike is one of those guys that no lady should stand in front of in an elevator. So I figure anything he touches is one I don't want.
I did have a girlfriend named Milly, a bit on the chubby side gal I met at the library. I tried twice with her. Both times ended up with me fumbling with a rubber, I even got it on myself once and myself inside her but the thing came off and we had to go fishing for it.
Try that sometime, the fuckings things get all slippery as snot, I would get ahold of part of it and it would slip off. I was about to go get a screwdriver of something when she finally snagged it, her fingernails were longer than mine.
It should have been fun and funny but she got all pissed off for some reason, she wouldn't go out with me anymore.
So by the time I was 25, I had an almost constant hardon and just a couple of actual experiences.
One late afternoon I was sitting at my apartment, Mike called and insisted I go with him to some nightclub place he had found.
"Crawling with fucking broads." was his exact words.
I was bored so what the hell, I decided to go. We took two vehicles. We always did that, just in case. Mine was usually empty except for me on the way home, I have seen Mike roll out with three at once, no idea how he does that.
The place was mostly food service, but there was a cozy little bar in the back, a dance floor with room for three couples if they didn't mind rubbing asses. There was a guitar player who seemed real proud of how fast he could pick the thing, he honest to God played "Flight of the Bumblebee" and shit like that that really didn't fit a bar scene. But he did every once in awhile play something someone could dance to.
The "Crawling with women" turned out to be two tables, one had two obvious housewife types, the other had three women that appeared deeply engrossed in conversation.
There was two guys standing up at the bar wearing outfits that made me wonder where they left their horses. I wasn't about to make any wisecracks, the one guy would make Bigfoot look like a fucking Chimp.
I checked out the table of three, the two women facing me were in their mid-twenties, the one with her back to me I couldn't tell for sure but the blonde hair that wasn't natural suggested older from the style.
Mike of course pounced, gave some line of crap and had one of the younger ones on the dance floor in about 10 seconds. I was heading for the other one when one of the cowboy guys beat me to her. Since I was halfway across the room and didn't want to look stupid I stepped up and asked the last gal.
She turned and smiled, and said, "Why yes, thank you very much!" which sounded real odd to me.
Then I realized I was looking at a nice looking slender lady, but at least 65 or 70 years old.
She was easily 30 years older than my mom!
I hesitated, but she got up, so I took her hand and we headed towards the dance floor. Mike looked over at me with a smirk, which pissed me off. I decided to try and remember to whip his ass later.
The lady was just an inch or so shorter than me, she folded into my arms with a happy smile and we started dancing.
Think of dancing with a cloud, every movement I made, she was right with me. It couldn't have been better or easier if we had been dancing together for decades.
She told me her name was Martha, I told her mine was Danny. Somehow she got me to tell her where I worked, I found out she owned a real estate company and the two other women with her were her agents. They had closed some big deal and were celebrating. We even managed to mention that I was single and she was widowed and had been for 15 years, that I was 25 years old and she was 68.
I took her back to her seat, she thanked me.
"I haven't really danced in years, I enjoyed that. You are really a good dancer!" She smiled and sat down.
Me? A good dancer? I went back to the table where Mike sat.
"You sure know how to pick'em!" Mike laughed.
I just kept my mouth shut.
"Who is the old bag?"
"Her name is Martha and she is kinda nice." I protested.
I looked over at the other table, the three women were leaning in close, talking and giggling. The two younger ones kept glancing over at Mike and me, probably at Mike I figured.
A few minutes later Martha got up and walked over, "Come on, let's dance again?" she asked.
