The guest writer kicking things off during my vacation week is Sus, from Joy Is Everywhere. She is awesomely vulgar, a great photographer, and a kickass mother-to-be. If you haven't checked out her blog yet, do it after you read this. Seriously. She's awesome.
Your's truly has been selected among six other lucky bloggers to guest post for Badass Geek while he and The Boss are on vacation. I have often been to other blogs where guest posts have occurred, but didn't ever think I would have this honor bestowed upon myself. Well, lo and behold, the day has arrived!! So sit back and relax while I tell you a little story about my first encounter with making out.
It was in the year of our Lord one thousand nine hundred and ninety five. You math whizzes have probably already figured out that I was the youthful age of 18. Yes I know this seems a little late in the world of "first make-out sessions," but I was shy and insecure and had been raised in a religion that frowned upon these sort of pre-marital interactions. So needless to say, I was a little...how do I put this?....socially retarded when it came to this stepping stone in life. I had been on dates before; I wasn't a complete loser, but I always managed to duck into the house before the awkward kiss on the porch happened. I don't know what I was so nervous about, but for some reason I couldn't get myself to just enjoy the moment. Anyways, I digress...
So there we were; me and this guy. We were in my parents' unfinished basement laying on an extra mattress that had been left down there from the last time guests were staying at their house. Before I knew what was happening, this guy rolled halfway onto my body and started to kiss me.
Now as a side note, I guess I had some fucked up idea of how this moment in life would go. You could say I probably watched one too many episodes of North and South as a child, because I envisioned something more along the lines of an "antebellum-Patrick Swayze-loves-Lesley Anne Down-roll in the hay." Yeah. Not exactly how it went.
This guy moved from kissing me, or jamming his nasty ass tongue down my throat...however you want to put it...to attempting to giving me a hickey on my neck. At least I guess that was his plan. Not sure. He just laid his open mouth against the side of my neck and that was about it. No sucking, no licking...just sick hot breath. (Is this turning you on yet? Is it? Huh huh?! Just wait. It gets better.)
Suddenly I felt this strange weight on my chest! Was it guilt? No. It was his hand...holding my left boob. Again, that was it. No squeeze, no tweak...just there. Nice. (It's funny how people talk about getting to "second base" or whatever base that is, but I guess I never realized that the excitement was all about the journey. No one ever really talks about what happens once you have actually arrived.) Well just when you thought the moment had reached its pinnacle...da da da daaaaaaa...he starts to dry hump my leg like a fucking dog!
So there I am with this guy, holding onto my boob for dear life, drooling like the king of the short-bus, giving me some serious Levi-Lovin'. And all I can think as I am laying there, staring at the ceiling, is, "You've GOT to be fucking kidding me. THIS is what I have been waiting for?!"
On a positive note, however, I was given a story that will be passed down through generations. I am sure my grandchildren will love it when they ask me to tell them a tale about the "old days" and I bust out with this gem! Rock on, sonny, rock on.