FuriousNomad

I met her in a bar. It was a fairly dull evening, the DJ was playing
the same songs Djs have been playing for years. There is apparently a
registry of indie hits that you pretty much have to play, I don't know.
The dancefloor was empty except for the drunken 15 year old girls and
boys that are making the most of their first nights on the town. I
danced for a bit then became self conscious and sat back down at my
table, the defeated fool that I was. For about seven years I have been
doing this. It's always the same.



Back when I started coming here I picked one barkeeper at random. I
always ordered my drinks from him, and I gave generous tips every time.
These days I get instant service, he remembers me. I get my beer fast,
and I drink it fast. There isn't much else to do.



My friends started getting laid in high school. It seemed to be fairly
easy for them. They were decent guys, if slightly idiotic but that
isn't uncommon for men at that age. There was an abundance of girls who
would fall for that kind of guy, good looking ones too. Being somewhat
socialy awkward I was always excluded from the prepubescent mating
rituals. I became bitter which only made things worse. I managed to
become friends with the girls I had my first crushes on, but I was the
friend who got to hear all about how men are jerks just before the girl
went for the next jerk. This didn't make things better either.



I started drinking. I don't know why I did it, but in the haze between
drunken stupor and clarity I found it easier to exist. I was tanked
when school started. When I got home in the afternoon I took a nap.
Then I drank more to cure my headaches. I just barely graduated. I just
barely made it to collge. I major in psychology, I was hoping to learn
more about myself, but these days learning more about humans just
accelerates my hatred for them.



I am now 26 years old and far from graduating. Some courses I am taking
for the third time. I admit, I'm a failure. I've come to accept that.
The money my desperate family sends me for books and tutors I spend on
alcohol and cigarettes. I don't have any goals in life, but I always
wanted to at least have sex once before I died.



Death comes swiftly and without warning, I felt it lurking in the
shadows behind me. Time was running short, every passing day brought me
closer to the ultimate humiliation of expiring before ever having
tasted the company of a woman. I was distraught. Then last week, her.



She was looking at me, didn't avoid my gaze. Her presence had a hint of
agression but I ignored it. I was exhilirated to get some attention. I
mustered up a smile. She walked to my table and sat down, uninvited. We
talked. I was very drunk already.



I don't know what we talked about but I do know that it was nothing of
significance. I assume we joked about the fact that all DJs play the
same songs these days. I assume we made fun of the kids on the
dancefloor. We might have talked about irrelevant bands and bad movies,
I don't know. She was visibly overweight, had curly red hair and a
large mole on her left cheek. There was no way to overlook the fact
that she was ugly, but I was not and have never been in the position to
be picky.



In between songs there was a sudden moment of dread. She was leaning
towards me. I knew that we would kiss, my heart was pounding. Torn
between excitement and disgust I leaned towards her. As my tongue
flicked across her crooked teeth I felt a wave of relief wash over me.
After 26 years I had finally experienced my first kiss. We kissed
numerous times. I accelerated my drinking. She was looking better by
the minute.



I didn't notice time passing, but time does not care whether you pay
attention or not. I was very drunk. So drunk in fact I could smell
vomit on me despite the fact that I did not throw up. The bar was about
to close and she sat there smiling at me. She said her name was Hannah.
I will probably remember that name forever. It wasn't long before the
bouncer made his round, telling everyone to get the fuck out. We stood
outside, it was one of the first cold nights of the year. I hadn't
dressed appropreatly and shivered helplessly. Hannah invited me to her
place. I went with her.



Her appartment was small and cluttered but I would have rather been
damned than care about minute details like that. She put on some music,
I don't know what band, I had never heard it before. There was a moment
of hesitation then our clothes started coming off. Clumsily we wrestled
the garments off each other. She looked fatter naked than clothed but
it was too late to turn back and I was not going to ruin the only
chance I have had in my entire life. We tumbled into her bed. It was
actually just a mattress on the floor, but let's call it a bed anyway.



I have always been embarassed by my dick. It is short, thin and bent
awkwardly to the left at an unfortunate wide angle. It may be one of
the things that have been holding me back. Other disadvantages I face
are my pathetically feminine body build and my severely sunken chest. I
have trouble looking at myself naked.



She insisted I take her doggy style. There was a moment of struggling.
I just couldn't seem to get close enough. We didn't have a condom. I
was beyond caring. After some desperate fidgeting I was in. I don't
know how I managed to get hard in the state I was in. Drunkenly I began
thrusting. This was it. I was in. I was in.



She moaned, thinking back she was probably doing it as a courtesy to
me. She demanded more. She yelled at me to thrust harder. I was running
on pure adrenaline. Then things turned sour. She started calling me a
faggot. She called me a mama's boy. She clawed at me, attempted to pull
me closer violently. I did my best but failed to calm her fury. She
ordered me to pull her hair, to punch her. Like a marionette I followed
her commands. She grew increasingly restless, pushed back with her
hips, waves of fat breaking against my pelvis. I started to feel very
ill.



She was suddenly furious. She demanded I fuck her like a real man,
reached back and scratched my ass quite severly. I tried to speak but
she began to thrash with her arms in a fit of rage. She elbowed me in
the face. Blood was gushing from my nose, I get nosebleeds easily. As
my blood soaked into her sheets I hastily gathered my clothes and ran.
I was naked in the cold staircase of her house. It was then that I was
able to collect myself and get myself dressed.



I walked home a shadow of my pathetic former self.



Don't rush yourselves. Wait until it's right. Getting laid for the sake
of the sake of getting laid is a catastrophic idea. I can vouch for
that.