Laid
It's no secret. It's been a while.
A long time ago, I made up my mind I wasn't gonna just Get Laid. I was gonna find the right girl and fall in love first.
I had a girlfriend. We were young. I thought it was love. Maybe my Catholic upbringing and the requisite guilt played a part during and after that relationship, but I vowed to not be the hound I saw my friends as being.
Trouble is, there was image. I played along. I always talked a good game. Can't look all ghey in front of my girl-hopping friends, right?
Oh, I used to take it as a compliment when folks would think I was just another wolf.
"You'd fuck that, right?"
"Oh, yeah, bend 'er over and horse-fuck her 'till my balls flapped off her stomach!"
"Hah, hah!"
"Hah, hah!"
*grabs beer in a manly way*
And so on for much too long.
I suppose I brought it upon myself by playing along out of fear of looking abnormal all these years as I hear it today. I'm 52 years old. I really don't give a fuck what people think of me any more, and when buddies give me that ol' familiar elbow and a wink when the voluptuous babe walks by, I know they expect ol' Russ to nod in approval. *wink* "Yeah, buddy, I would, too" is what they wanna hear.
Well, I'm sick of the facade. Maybe there's really something wrong with me, but, no I don't want to bend her over, ol' buddy. No, not just now. I really want to see her smile. I want to know what she's thinking. I like her shoes. Her hair. That dress. And if she smiles back at me and actually wants to talk to me, that gives me just as much of a thrill as any of those imaginary conquests of the past could ever muster in my mind.
Damn. Looking back, had I felt all along like I do now, I know I'd be ahead of the game and have no doubts. Young. Image-conscious. Afraid (homophobic?) of looking like less of a man should I admit I wanted to fall in love before ever having the audacity to show off my junk. Today, I don't care what people think. Fuck 'em.
And the next guy who elbows me in the ribs and says "eh?" when he catches me looking may well get a piece of my mind.
Blargh. I'm tired of being lumped in with all the cock hounds of the world. It makes me feel so... primitive.
A long time ago, I made up my mind I wasn't gonna just Get Laid. I was gonna find the right girl and fall in love first.
I had a girlfriend. We were young. I thought it was love. Maybe my Catholic upbringing and the requisite guilt played a part during and after that relationship, but I vowed to not be the hound I saw my friends as being.
Trouble is, there was image. I played along. I always talked a good game. Can't look all ghey in front of my girl-hopping friends, right?
Oh, I used to take it as a compliment when folks would think I was just another wolf.
"You'd fuck that, right?"
"Oh, yeah, bend 'er over and horse-fuck her 'till my balls flapped off her stomach!"
"Hah, hah!"
"Hah, hah!"
*grabs beer in a manly way*
And so on for much too long.
I suppose I brought it upon myself by playing along out of fear of looking abnormal all these years as I hear it today. I'm 52 years old. I really don't give a fuck what people think of me any more, and when buddies give me that ol' familiar elbow and a wink when the voluptuous babe walks by, I know they expect ol' Russ to nod in approval. *wink* "Yeah, buddy, I would, too" is what they wanna hear.
Well, I'm sick of the facade. Maybe there's really something wrong with me, but, no I don't want to bend her over, ol' buddy. No, not just now. I really want to see her smile. I want to know what she's thinking. I like her shoes. Her hair. That dress. And if she smiles back at me and actually wants to talk to me, that gives me just as much of a thrill as any of those imaginary conquests of the past could ever muster in my mind.
Damn. Looking back, had I felt all along like I do now, I know I'd be ahead of the game and have no doubts. Young. Image-conscious. Afraid (homophobic?) of looking like less of a man should I admit I wanted to fall in love before ever having the audacity to show off my junk. Today, I don't care what people think. Fuck 'em.
And the next guy who elbows me in the ribs and says "eh?" when he catches me looking may well get a piece of my mind.
Blargh. I'm tired of being lumped in with all the cock hounds of the world. It makes me feel so... primitive.