Grimace and kid
.
I am a very considerate person.
When I break up with a guy, I don’t say that it’s because my friend pointed out his abnormally big thighs and now every time I look at him all I see is Grimace. Instead, I tell him the truth. That there’s always a chance he’ll be hit by a bus tomorrow, and no amount of love is going to change that.
If that doesn’t work, I tell him I have a baboon heart.
Before I realized that being in a monogamous relationship would mean giving up my dream of not being in a monogamous relationship, I dated a guy named Ed.
As is the case with all of my exes, I met Ed in a bar.
My friends and I were celebrating the fact that, after tripping over some kids’ skateboard and spending the next two weeks with my pinky finger dangling off my left hand, I finally went to the walk-in clinic.
The technician who took my X-Rays said he’d never seen anything like it. He said my pain threshold must be off the charts. Obviously, we were celebrating this as well.
Since a lot of freaks hang out at the bar, I always take precautions. I never reveal my age, always subtracting at least five years. I also give a fake name, depending on how I’m feeling. Sometimes I’ll introduce myself as Groovy, or Melancholy, or Totally Creeped Out. But usually I’m just plain old Shitfaced.
I find this is the best way to protect myself from things like identity theft.
That night, along with my dignity and self-respect, I lost my pinky cast. Thankfully I had signed it, and when Ed found it in one of the mens’ urinals later he took it home and Febreezed it.
He phoned me the next day.
“Is Shitfaced there?”
Few people know this, but I suffer from a debilitating disease. It’s called “Alcohol-Induced-Memory-Loss-Possibly-Leading-To-Beer-Goggles”. Because of this, I have to be very careful when probing male callers for information. Most people don’t understand that AIMLPLTBG is a real illness that I made up.
“So Ed, do you remember how we met?” I stressed the word ‘you’ because I wanted to keep my illness a secret. It’s one of my defense mechanisms.
He said he’d been dancing with another girl when I came up and vaginablocked her. Then I stuck my tongue down his throat. (This is also one of my defense mechanisms.)
We made plans to see a movie the next weekend.
He showed up for our date wearing skinny jeans and a vest over his bare chest. When I asked him what was up with the Russell Brand look, he said it was actually American Apparel brand and the only reason he could pull it off was because he’d eaten nothing but KFC all week.
“White meat, only. And no skin.” He said this was something that all really toned guys did before a date.
During the movie, Ed told me his entire life story. From back when he was a zygote in his mother’s uterus to the first time he went down on a girl in the movie theatre, only two weeks earlier.
I was confused. How was that even possible? Did he get down on the floor? Or just lean his head over her arm rest? What did she do with her popcorn? Had he eaten any popcorn? Wanting to keep the idle chit chat to a minimum, I decided it best to save these questions for the Google search engine.
Ed said he really knew how to make a girl feel special. He offered to make me feel special. I told him that sounded lovely, but I needed to freshen up first.
I locked myself in the bathroom stall, where I spent the next hour and a half reading poems about Amy B.’s predilection for twenty-inch c*cks.
The end of a first date is always awkward. So to make it less awkward, I waited until Special Ed turned the corner onto my street before dive rolling out of the car. I hit the ground with my shoulder and rolled toward the curb. I was in gymnastics for three years so I’m sure I looked really graceful.
.
A perfect 10!
.
Ed must have thought so too, because the next day the phone rang.
Caller: What’s shakin, dollface?
Me: Who is this?
Caller: It’s Ed.
Me: You mean Special Ed?
Caller: Heh. Yeah sweets, your special Ed.
Me: Like how Special Ed?
Caller: Huh?
Me: I mean, just how Special Ed are you?
Caller: I don’t – Wait. Are you tryin’ to be funny?
Me: Of course not. I’m just curious. Are you like severely Special Ed or only mildly Special Ed?
There must have been a problem with his phone because somehow we got disconnected.
I never heard from Special Ed again. But it worked out for the best, a few months later I went houseboating and I met Ken (aka. “Special K”).
Just Making Convo 
Vaginablocked.
*sizzling with envy over your wordsmithery*
I totally thought I made it up. You can imagine how devastated I was to find it in the Urban Dictionary.
(Same thing with “vagina head”.)
Grimace doesn’t not have fat thighs…he has skinny thighs, it is just his fat belly bleeds out over it.
“I never reveal my age, always subtracting at least five years. ” Which was pretty creepy when you were in a bar at 21.
Huh? What do you mean 21?
I’m from Alberta. We go straight from suckling our mother’s breast to drinking off the bartender’s chest*!
*Translation- 18yrs
America is very superior to Canada. We can smoke, vote, and go to war at 18, but drinking we wait until 21.
And I’m proud to be an American where at least I know I’m free!
Damn, and here I’ve been paying foreign women.
Special Ed was probably a little too special to know how to use a phone properly.
Ha! If you only knew…
To be fair, it was a rotary.
You’ve just described all the things I do on a first date…also, a second date. Also, every date.
I thought you were married GG……
I am married, but I thought this line sounded funnier in the present tense.
You did the right thing, GG.
Not only are you hilarious, your choice of tense is impeccable. For realz.
Remines me of a few dates I went on. I’d tell you about sorme of them but I’d have to kill myself after.
Ha! Then please don’t, I much prefer having you around in living form.
Your final conversation with Ed should be in a dating manual under the heading: “Don’t confuse a man with repartee unless you want him to slink off with his tail between his legs”.
You meant “ridiculously brilliant repartee”, right?
I hope it was a tail that was between his legs.
(FYI, I left out part of the story. For self-respect reasons.)
I wish someone had vaginablocked me the night I met my ex husband
I wish someone had vaginablocked me the night I lost my virginity…
(Or should I say the night that I will lose my virginity. In the future.)
While I am fascinated by “Special” Ed and his willingness to sacrifice his Russell Athletic Sweatpant knees in order to pleasure random females at the theater, I am equally fascinated by Amy B. who, while only mentioned in passing, seems to have developed quite the reputation (at least in certain bathrooms).
Now, as far as I’ve been reassuring myself, the average male has only a 5-6″ member. If she’s hooked on the 20-inch variety, either she’s a.) constantly disappointed, b.) constantly lied to (and tragically, unable to discern the difference between 5″ and 20″), or c.) taking the sum total of 3-5 c*cks as her measurement. I’m willing to be the answer is b.), which is yet another chilling indictment of our public school system’s failures.
If only he was wearing Russell Brand sweatpants, I might have taken him up on his offer. Sadly, it was more of a “Russell Brand” comedian-style fashion that he was sporting. I’d never seen a guy split his skinny jeans before, but I didn’t think it would be something that I’d be into. (I found out a few years later that I was right.)
You’re right, CLT. Sadly, I found out about the 20 inch myth the hard way.
Well, more like the semi-hard way (thanks to my date’s friend, Mr. Jack Daniels).
Clearly Amy B is into Mr Ed.
Ha!
I prefer to call him “Mr. Tori Spelling”…
I think I met Special Ed. Was he the guy that was training for the Olympics that were as special as he is?
Yes. He was training for the Special Olympics tongue diving event, but he never made it past the qualifying round.
Because he sucked.
http://www.mojvideo.com/video-crank-yankers-special-ed-i-got-mail/5a06a03d159973d84ed1
HA!
(Believe it or not, he actually talked like that.)
Great post as always. You really have a knack for dialogue and it was super hilarious
Thanks, Lisa.
I’d probably find it a lot funnier if it weren’t (mostly) true.
PS, You change your border every 15 minutes…That’s hella cool. That boy looks like a xavier to me.
I was thinking John-Boy, but I like Xavier better. It sounds more exotic.
Speaking of boys named John, in the 1980s, 81% of baby boys born with Downs’ Syndrome were named, “John.”
I’m so jealous. You have had so many special relationships, b!
I’ve been having issues with blogger, but it seems I might be able to actually comment now!
I have issues with WordPress every day.
I think I change my widgets more often than my underwear. (Twice a month, whether I need to or not!)
Reading this post, I admired your consistently high yuks/words ratio, B. Hitting my hot buttons helped. Taking X-rays at a walk-in clinic is how I make $, and every date I ever had with someone I met at a bar ended in confusion and absurdity. Life experienced through beer goggles can be fun, but it just can’t be sustained safely. It’s too hard on the body and brain, and I have grown to like mine enough to want them to last longer.
I still enjoy lying about my age, though. I ADD 5-10 years, so everyone will say “You look SO good. What’s your secret?” And because I do it sober, I’m able to refrain from telling them “The secret is – I lied!”
You made my morning, B. Welcome to the Blogroll.
HA! I know! You should write a book. You can call it “The Real Secret”, and there will only be one page that says “I lied.”
Actually, never mind. I think that’s the dumbest idea I’ve had so far today.
ps. Thanks for the welcome, Mikey! I promise not to do anything that I wouldn’t do on my own blogroll. (?)
pps. I need a nap.
‘Vagina blocked’ is not only my new go-to laugh maker but also my new meditation. Because it is most awesome thing I have ever heard in my whole life!
And be careful of that Special K. That nasty shit had me hallucinating tigers eating zombies eating baby zombies eating their own feet for hours, which was not as pleasant as you might expect.
I know right? I was devastated to find out it was already invented. I’m using uterusblocked instead, but it’s just not as catchy.
Don’t worry. This “Special K” was wearing Grandpa underwear, so my expectations were pretty low to begin with.
This testimonial should be sent to eHarmony…its a slam dunk. It’s sad, but there is an entire segment of the porn industry devoted to women with casts and baboon hearts. I think I’ll wash up now.
Do you happen to know the name of the agency that represents these women?
I’m asking for a friend.
Shitfaced and special Ed sitting in a tree K..I..S..S..I..N..G.. lol
HAHA! That’s what my friend said! Only she used humping instead of kissing.
(We’re really mature that way.)
Post like this remind me of why my unrequited love for you means so much to me.
I thought we requited it over MSN the other night?
Bea, beautiful glimpse into your dating psyche, but somehow I feel like Ed’s being sold short here. Maybe it’s just how I’m reading it, (with my eyes) but it seems like he did all the right things.
First off, he’s thoughtful. You know plenty of guys would have just used that cast as target practice, or just given it to any old hussy, but not Ed he went the extra mile which was clearly no easy task. Do you have any idea how many Shitfaceds there are out there?
After getting his initial woo on, he brings it by being a snazzy dresser. You say Russell Brand, but others say hip and Avant Garde, non? Or maybe they say David Lee Roth? I’m not sure.
He was open an honest with you. Bea, it’s like the 20th century or something. Guys are taught to be sensitive nowadays. Clearly Ed was overachieving here by telling you all about his life and giving you clear indications of his prowess in the sack but relating details of his recent sexual history.
Patient yet determined? Check and Check. Ed’s firing on all cylinders here, Bea. Even when you were clearly playing hard to get, evidenced by your coquettish dismount at the end of the date, Ed showed that he was in it to win it by calling you the next day.
I don’t think you gave Ed a fair shake here, Bea, and maybe that’s because the cast came off to early but still, you may live to regret your premature dismissal of an obviously great guy.
HA! Your comment deserves a post of its own, Rod. (Which is why I copied and pasted it and plan to publish it next week.)
You’re right, there are a lot of shitfaceds out there. Maybe I was a little hard on Ed. I guess I was just young and naive and couldn’t handle all the woo and the cylinders he was firing on.
Thanks for making me see the error of my ways, Rod. I guess all I can do now is pray that the 21st century will bring more Eds my way.
ps. Do you really think my dismount was coquettish?
You are awesomely hilarious and I love you.
I also love any man that thinks it’s appropriate to show up to a first date wearing only a vest. HAWT. Special Ed sounded like a real winner. I bet you’re real sad you missed that one.
I love you, too!
I wish I knew where he is now, I really think we could have something Special.
This was a masterfully written post. :)
Maybe more masterful than you can even fantasize on your own in the bars’ bathroom stalls. Whatever, I’m confusing myself when I only mean to praise. I understand your character’s problems, they’re just like the late Vodka and Ground Beef’s problems. So be careful OK? Monogamous relationships are much easier for single people. Most people don’t know that either.
I don’t know where I’m going with this comment.
I suck at self-deprecating humor.
Haha! Don’t worry, David. I totally knew you were praising me. I could tell by the way you typed “masterfully.”
I knew you would understand. If only more people realized that Monogamy isn’t really a lifestyle choice, but rather something that unsuccessful polygamists do.
I don’t know where I’m going with this comment either. That’s what I like about us.
Melancholy? I’m not sure if you can call yourself that. My name is Mel Ancholy. Mel for short. I’ll let you use it so long as you promise not to smile while in public.
Remember, do this :-(
You’re back! I was wondering where you went.
I promise, whenever I’m out in public I’ll be sure to frown. (Only because I do that anyway.)
I hate the gravel rash that comes with exiting a car at full speed :(
I know, right!
You don’t gotta tell me five times…
I was, like totally involved in this wonderful account of what must have been a glorious first date, as I’ve never myself read anything coming remotely close to it, the account, that is. But I’m left in a seriously restricted quandry ove the crux of that date, and that is: What fucking movie did you see, and did he go down on you, or just lick the butter off the popcorn?