It would seem that a number of people from my distant past have finally contacted me. One of them was my ex-best-girl-friend. She’s of an exotic breed, a very eclectic mix of a number of East Asian races, with a natural beauty that resembles the conventional form of a Korean high-school graduate right after she’d gotten her graduation present –Plastic surgery. Only,
She’s always been pretty, and she’s still drop dead gorgeous. She’s smart, certainly, only she spent all of it back in Secondary school on the art of military stratagem. One of those computer games boys will always be into, no matter how old they get.
The guys loved her of course, in fact, they were in perfect awe. She was extremely sexy and sassy, her tongue could rival theirs any damn day, and she could beat them up both literally and with the computer mouse. You know how it is when kids are 14, where the guys have only just started growing physically, and the girls are already half way there.
We both liked the same guy, a particularly pretty specimen of the male race that looked like he was a direct descendant from the Angel Gabriel. Or any one of them angels of good tidings. He’s also among the smattering off Asian males I know I wouldn’t mind finding myself in bed with, mostly because the feelings of pleasure I had felt from looking at him as a 12 year old never really went away. He is very pleasing to look at, the first time I saw him, I really did think he was an angel. The morning sun had been directly behind him, and he was wearing a pure white tee shirt. Now when I think about it, I find the whole idea of how I had felt then terribly amusing, yet it still does not cease to incite wistfulness.
Oddly enough, we (Gabriel and I) did find ourselves, years after we’d not contacted each other, lounging about in our underwear ,smoking Saproenas with another female friend of mine. We had some how ended up on a South East Asian beach resort, entirely by coincidence.
He had started dating me initially for a couple of months when I was about 12, coming on 13. We had started of by me attempting to give him advice on how to get a girl to feel up (He was the first boy I liked, but I’d already had prior experience. My second encounter with having my nipples licked had not been a week past -the first had been really quite some while before; while I was in Kindergarten I think). Strangely, we never really went past first base, and now when I think about it, we didn't actually kiss till many years later. I suppose it was because I was incredibly shy and had no idea how to get about to get it on. I was also insanely insecure, and despite him telling me I was really ‘very chio’, I still didn’t think I was pretty enough to kiss him. He was much too beautiful.
If he’d been catholic, they’d have sodomized him every day.
I’d showed his picture to
I deliberated about it for a few weeks. Sometimes I think I was too grown up for my own good. Always had insane idyllic ideologies such as: If he really loved me (at this point, we were sort of dating each other, and he’d bought me a few trinkets) he’d not go for her. Of course I fucked up and of course he went for her. I wasn’t bitter about it though, and it was then that I came up with the no guy was ever worth the friendship of your girlfriend theory. It was a good philosophy, we’re still great friends today. Not as close in the sense that I nearly never see her, but we practically grew up together, and shared any number of sexual digressions since we were, oh, 11. I shall still be attending her wedding, that's for sure. She wanted me to be her future kid's god-mother once.
At some point in time, I introduced her to the guy whom I had thought could have been the one responsible for the breaking of my cherry. We had had a lot of phone sex, and he’d told me I should try putting ‘something up there’. I didn’t do it right away, but I’d always been far too comfortable with myself since the day I was born, so I’d attempted it in the bathroom. Nothing exciting like the handle of the toilet brush though, just my little finger. It didn’t feel like absolutely anything, only an annoying sort of pain because I hadn’t bothered to cut my nails in awhile.
Oh this is so fucking lame, I’d thought, and proceeded to jill of in the manner more suited for little girls. The next day, there was a little bit of blood, and I had quite a fright.
Well, serve you right you silly little slut. No one’s asking you to do unnatural things like putting your finger up your cunt, now see what you’ve done.
I don’t think I’d ever prayed so hard all my life.
Oh lord, I hope I don’t bleed to death. Maybe my nail cut me inside, I hope it won’t get infected. Have I lost my virginity forever? To myself? (But it didn’t really matter, I had never wanted to keep it till marriage anyway).
Turned out a couple of day later it was my first period. Weird shit.
Anyway, the phone sex guy had been about 5 years older then me, was a pathetic pervert, and is still a pathetic pervert. Cute though, great build, and very eloquent, which always made me wonder why he always seemed to have such a difficult time finding a lay. We never did anything more then phone sex, and he’s still in the routine of calling me up about four times a year, but we’d stopped with the phone sex slightly under half a decade ago.
He called last weekend, and started with what he always starts with. Have you been masturbating lately. I asked him what kind of fucked up question is that? I’ve grown up, and it was time he realized that. I wasn’t 12 any more, and I wasn’t going to play his stupid games. I’d been telling him the same damn thing for two years already.
I really do think some guys are incredibly stupid. I had been so way underage then, and they’d still insisted on attempting to do me. I was never dumb enough to meet this phone sex person obviously, but… nevermind. Those are stories for another day.
‘Yeah right. You scared the first girl I introduced to you off, of course I won’t ever introduce another one, ever. Is that how you behave when you try to pick a girl up? Ask her if she masturbated? Because that’s is one of the most incredibly inane approaches, ever.’
He didn’t have a good answer. In fact, he didn’t have any answer at all.
‘I’ll pay you for it.’
‘What? So I’m to barter my friends for you? I'm afriad you don't have enough money to pay for that. After that incident, it’s going to cost you a lot. And I don’t want your money anyway.’
‘I bet I could give you more money then you’d ever expect.’
‘Oh please. Firstly, I don’t want your lousy money. You’re not making a great deal, and it will be a cold day in hell when I give you another girl’s number. I suffer and intense loyalty for my species.’
I don’t hate him, honestly. He just incites a mix of repulsion and pity from me, despite all his aesthetical qualities. Both him and the ex are one of the reasons why I can never ever be sexually attracted to good looking Asian men, ever again. And since I am not attracted to ugly people whatever race they are, I simply refuse be attracted to this one particular species forever.
It's called a behavioural pattern highway.
I think.
***
For some odd reason, all this recalling the past made me dig out Aerosmith's Permanent Vacation. He was my induction from an insipid fair of boybands into the evil world of bad ass rock music.
Oh Simorahh!! *laughs*
xoxox
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