|Blogging Like I've Never Blogged Before|
Friday, June 20, 2003
When I was 19, I worked in Disney World on their college program. It was basically a way for them to get cheaper labor than normal, with a bunch of eager young college kids who were happy to be working in Disney World and didn't have to take classes for a semester. It was a pretty sweet deal for all parties involved.
I had a roommate named Paul. Everyone who knew Paul assumed he was Italian. He wasn't Italian, but if you had to find a sterotypical Italian, it was Paul. More Tony Danza than Tony Soprano. I forget what his nationality was, but for the sake of inaccuracy, I'll just say, Sure, he was Italian. He was from Long Island (I think) and spoke like Rodney Dangerfield. To make these anecdotes more enjoyable, when I quote Paul, it will help if you imagine Rodney Dangerfield's voice.
Paul wasn't the smartest guy in the world. He probably wouldn't be the smartest guy in a pre-school. Nice guy, yes, but his wits were slower than most. One time I was watching an episode of The Simpsons, one where Bart sells his soul (for what it's worth, I think one of the best episodes of all time). Paul walks in during the middle of the episode, watches for about a minute, then proclaims, "This is so stupid! You can't sell your soul." Suspension of disbelief with Paul was foreign.
Paul had a girlfriend back home. I stress "back home." He definitely did not have a girlfriend when I lived with him. There was a stretch of time where it seemed he had a different girl with him every night. Oftentimes, I would be sleeping, and he would bring them in the room and they'd have their fun. Oftentimes, I would wake up and be foreced to listen to the love. So they'd do their thing, fall asleep, and then Paul would always wake up at a ridiculous hour of the morning and usher them out. I guess he didn't want me or our other roommates to know how unfaithful to his lady he really was.
Except for this one time.
It was a normal night where he came in very late after a night of drinking and he brought a girl with him. I was sleeping, but of course woke up and heard them. Luckily, I was able to fall back asleep. At around 7am, Paul got up to go to work and bid adieu to his lady of the evening. Paul then decided to wake me up after she left and this was our conversation (Remember, think Dangerfield!):
Paul: Hey Mike.
Me: Ugh. Huh, wha?
Paul (sounding very excited): Did you know I had a girl in here last night?
Me: Yeah, I gathered that.
Paul: It was awesome.
Me (uninterested and really just wanting to sleep): Hey, man good for you, that's great.
Paul: She sucked my dick.
Me: Hey, ok, that's awesome. Congratulations.
Paul: Yeah. It was like I was fucking her mouth!
Me: OK! Have a good day at work.
"It was like I was fucking her mouth." He seriously said that. To this day, I have never heard anything funnier in my life. He was absolutely serious. I wonder if the girl he was with went back and told her roommate about her night and said, "It was like I got my mouth fucked!" Somehow, I doubt it.
There was one other time where we both had the day off and I was going to get some lunch. I asked Paul if he wanted anything from Burger King, and he declined. Now, I was going out to the Burger King which was maybe a mile away, and I'm by myself so chances are I am going to hit the drive-thru and come right back home. Fifteen minutes tops. So I go get my Whopper Value Meal and head back to my apartment. I open the door and there in the living room I see Paul pulling up his pants. It took me a second to realize I had just seen his white ass. I thought, "Hmm, that's odd. Paul isn't usually naked in the living room. Perhaps he was getting changed and there was something on TV he didn't want to miss, like a sporting event, so he quickly grabbed his clothes and got changed in the living room. Yes, that's the obvious conclusion!"
Then I saw the image on the television, and unless a girl getting banged by two guys at once is some kind of competetive sport I don't know about, he was watching some porn and satisfying himself.
This was the most awkward situation I've ever been in. Paul wasn't a good enough friend where I could feel comfortable in making fun of him. If it was a friend, I would have been laughing my ass off. Instead, I had to pretend that it was no big deal and go eat my Whopper. He was very apologetic and then said something brilliant.
"Mike, I'm sorry."
"That's ok Paul."
"No really, I'm sorry."
"Paul, it's cool."
"You know, I just miss my girlfiend."
First of all, as explained earlier, he really had no problem in the missing of the girlfriend and second, a guy should never ever ever have to explain to another guy why he is masturbating. I know why you are masturbating. You are a guy, and as guys, masturbating, from what I know, is farily common. Usually though, it's pretty common to do it when there's a good chance of not getting caught. I don't know, maybe Paul liked the danger of possibly getting caught. You know, livin' on the edge. "Ok, I've got 15 minutes maximum to wack it. Let's do this!"
I probably didn't make eye contact with him for a week or so. He tried to pretend it never happened and for at least that week, he would talk to me a lot more about hockey.