They were experiencing some technical problems at the theater. The audience To Be but now Are Not, were not amused and demanded refunds and vouchers. There was a lot of shoving and elbowing, and people were speaking in really angry voices. I spoke in an angry voice, I didn’t know why I did it, because I wasn’t angry. I just wanted my money back and a voucher. But maybe I thought I had to sound angry, to get what I wanted, so I did. Actually it is unnecessary. One can smile and demand one’s rights in this town, this I know. (yeah right)
“What a disappointment” I told my partner. “Technical difficulties… Pah! It’s like being about to fuck your girlfriend and then saying ‘Sorry luv, I’m just experiencing some technical difficulties at the moment, now, hold on’ turning around, grabbing your limp dick and trying to coax it to life with durex Tingling Sensation lubricant but realizing you forgot to wash your hands properly after you helped chop up the ingredients for Tom Yum soup.”
We went to another cinema and got tickets for a later show. He asked the girl at the counter if she was absolutely sure there would not be any technical difficulties. “If they do have it” I said, “you’re going to have to take your pants off this time and start making a point that you are also experiencing technical problems with your dick at this moment and start swinging it around.”
Thankfully, there were no technical problems.
It reminded me of the time the ex took off his pants on MAS in the 40 min before departure (actually it was Heathrow so it is likely this waiting time was significantly longer). He wanted to make a point about what lousy cunts they were, not turning on the air-conditioning before take-off because they were being cheap arse.
“Please put your pants back on sir.” Said the stewardess, trying not to laugh. “It’s hot. It’s unhealthy for the certain anatomical details that males are fortunately or unfortunately endowed with. You miss, do not have such a problem. It is easy for you to say.”
He finally did put his pants back on, when they fired up the air-conditioner. Surprisingly, other passengers found it most amusing.
I did visit him on Sunday. It was quite nice to see the old dog again. We talked about a couple of things we never did talk about since we broke up because most of the time our drinking sessions were filled with stories of new found depravity, like the Celing Penis and other adventures. I won’t say I was the best girlfriend ever, but he did realize there were a lot of things he gave me a hard time for that he shouldn’t have. At least I didn’t compel him to start wearing latex gloves everytime he cooked, or to use chopsticks to hold his cigs when he wanted a fag. And I never demanded or will ever demand that any man I date should be something straight out of Sex and the City because life would be quite boring them. I think even if I were to meet such a man, the story would turn out different anyway. If I have fantasies, it’s tuned more towards Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, not cocktails and multi-speed vibrators in New York. I mean, that’s nice, but just a bit ordinary to be a fantasy. Fantasies should ideally be dangerous.
He told me that there was a certain kind of girl called a checklist girl. A checklist girl is a type of girl that has a list in her head for what she would like a man to be, and reads Twilight… without barfing. I know many of those girls. It’s not that awesome men that are intelligent, good-looking, rich and have a big dick and know how to use it do not exist. They do, and in significant quantities. Like Pokemon, you’ve gotta catch ‘em all. But everyone has some stupid shit that makes them not 100% perfect. If you know how to accept it and deal with it, you can have a lot of fun because the road of the beaten track is the fun bit when you’re driving.