The Straggler

August 29, 2008 at 12:41 pm (The Easy Chair)

The other day I needed to look at something on the Mercury’s website, and noticed the login feature. Hmm… that’s right! I have an account in the personals section. I had to look.

A few years back, I dabbled in internet dating. More likely I attempted to internet date. Lots of attempts, few results. I had lots of awkward e-mail conversations with all kinds of women, and one or two with faux-women. I had joined a gym and was swimming a lot, so I created a goofy profile based on Patrick Starfish of Spongebob Squarepants fame. I’d shaved, so the resemblance was uncanny. It was ocean themed, with hobbies like washing up on the beach, favorite band the Butthole Surfers, etc… My favorite reply, from a 21 year-old, “Are you really two-foot-eleven?”

I logged in, but my profile had been deleted! Aughh! Although it got me nowhere, it would have been nice to see it again, to revisit my mindset. No such luck. But there were still administrative correspondences, as well as letters from other Lovelabbers who ‘got’ my sense of humor. (And one who didn’t.) “You don’t drink? That sucks.” Or “Shouldn’t you be at Willamette Week? The women are older there.” Ouch. “Hey, let’s hook up and steal a car! Kidding. Seriously, want to?” I found her a bit scary; she sounded like Hillsboro’s answer to Amy Winehouse.

Eventually I landed in a relationship, and the personals were forgotten about. Now the relationship is over, but the urge to have a social life has been strong lately. I started doing the math, and on Monday it will be six months since I’ve, um, socialized. Damn, I haven’t been laid all summer.

Or spring. Damn…

Which got me thinking, I should be ready in case the unbelievable happens and I get lucky. Be a good boy scout and come prepared. Do I have rubbers?

I used to think that there was nothing sadder than an expired condom. Did you know they have expiration dates? (Serial numbers too. Oh, you don’t roll them down that far?) Back in the ’90s, I went halfsies on a box with my sister. We both had hot dates. She burned through hers over the weekend, I still had most of mine three years later. It depressed me no end. I should have just given her mine, but I have a Never Say Die attitude. She married the guy, and they now have two kids running around in the other room. My selfishness and unintended celibacy had two wonderful side-effects.

Eventually the dry spell went away. After some semi-deviant adventures, I hooked up with a girl and we went exclusive, so there was no need for protection. When we ran out, I didn’t buy more, and everything was fine. I did find one straggler, so I hid it in a strategic place. Making a rubber run in the middle of the night is an adventure every young man should have once. It teaches him that having to get dressed and run to the nearest pharmacy, see two little old ladies running the store, then have to walk ten more blocks because you’re a chicken with a boner is not the best use of time when you’ve got a hot naked girl in your bed.

Curious, I pulled out the straggler to check its date. December 2007. In another era, i would have shot myself. The last time I opened an expired condom, it looked like the shed skin of a snake.

I opened it, and am ready to do a commercial for Trojan Ultra Ribbed! Despite being almost a year out of date, it was still fresh, the lube was still effective, my keyboard is suspiciously greasy now. Maybe I’d better wrap the evidence in a Kleenex, in case the kids come in and start asking questions. (“Go ask your father!”)

I’ve replaced the straggler, I now have until February 2012. Thank god the pressure’s off.

FYI, Planned Parenthood sells condoms 12 for $1, at least that was the going rate last time I went. Don’t let the ladies at the counter intimidate you; once they find out why you’re there, they are nice as pie. For the more adventurous, most gay bars have a big stash of them for the taking. Just ask. There’s no reason to go unprotected. Be smart and put on a helmet before you ride your bicycle.

Laying in bed, I formulated my dream weekend:

French Lesson Friday- In an ongoing attempt to be a cunning linguist… Show me your oui oui, I’ll show you mine!

Salacious Saturday- Provocative dress, libations flowing freely. Let’s go out! Or stay in.

Sunday Morning Sodomy- Sounds heavenly. Down to your knees and repent if you please…

Yeah, I have grand ambitions for the weekend. It’ll probably end up being a Hustler video with a pint of ice cream afterward.

Death to The Straggler!

Or is it “Never Say Die!”?

(sigh) Which way to the Ben & Jerry’s?…

1 Comment

  1. gee-no said,

    Give em hell Harry!!

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