JOY part 29

Look, I’m about to talk about something I’m sure you’re really sick of hearing about. Well, maybe not. Because you’re all really hypocritical bastards with deviant little warped minds, in spite of how you really wish you were. Anyway, stick with me here. There is a point to this besides giving you yet another cheap thrill.

Friday afternoon I found myself naked and alone. I had some time to myself at My Mom’s. So, being the horny little fuck that I am, I started “thinking about” Ann. Now, look, I told you very nicely that there was a point to this and to keep reading. OK, not all that nicely, but still, you were warned. This is why it’s important. It started off with this whole lovely fantasy about Ann and I in a hotel suite and me between her legs…well, I’ll skip that part. The fact is, the beautiful little scene wasn’t doing it for me. I mean it was, kind of, but not really. Not in the lurid, disgusting way I had hoped.

So, then I started to think about Nancy. And sure enough. Bingo. In a way, it was great. I, obviously, had enjoyed thinking about Nancy this way for quite awhile, as you are painfully well aware of. I mean, it always made me feel a little strange afterward. And sometimes really awkward for a moment when actually facing her in person. But still. This time was different. Afterward, I was truly and utterly bummed out about the whole deal. Ann was so much prettier on any objective level than Nancy yet, yet…I’m really not even sure what my point is. But I know there is one in there. This thing I had for Nancy was fucking me up. And suddenly this incident made me realize exactly how much. Which really kind of bummed me out. And made me more determined than ever to make this thing with Ann pay off. And just as I was thinking all of this, My Mom walked in on me lying there completely naked, surrounded by rather damp tissues.

No, I won’t describe the scene of mutual embarrassment. The Freudian analysis I will probably require from the event (well, if I was going to live long enough to worry about it, anyway). Use your imagination or remember the “Seinfeld” episode where George “got caught” and you’ve pretty much got it. Let’s just say that, once again, this was one of those times where death seemed like it just couldn’t come soon enough.

My misery and embarrassment was not just limited to the above mentioned incident with Mom. Saturday came. Which was great. My stomach was in full bloom, which was not so great. Nothing like having a nice, long ride ahead of you in an enclosed space. Knowing you were going to fart uncontrollably in front of the woman you hoped to seduce.

Anyway, I pick up Ann at her house. Being a woman, she isn’t ready yet and invites me into that horrific house of hers. There was no hug or kiss or anything at the door, just in case you were wondering. She said something about not knowing what to wear and ran off to the bedroom. Of course, my sick little mind immediately invented a whole seduction scene where she leaves her door open just enough for me to see her take off all of her clothes and then she catches me looking and…my stomach reminded me of the hellish reality in which I actually lived and took me out of my happy little dream world. God damn it! Why today?!

Ann comes back wearing a black sweater and pants that fit her really, really, nicely. She catches me looking a little too long and smiles clearly, enjoying the attention. I hand her the keys to my precious Mini and off we went.

Well, almost. It was pretty clear to me that my stomach issues were not going to go unnoticed. Therefore, I took a calculated risk that a preemptive strike would be painfully awkward and embarrassing, but the best possible course of action. Besides, after what I had just been through with My Mom, it was small potatoes on the humiliation front.

I told Ann I needed to use her bathroom before we went because I had a mild case of food poisoning from the seafood I had for dinner last night. She asked if I still felt up to going on the trip. To which I replied that I did as long as she didn’t mind the occasional side effect from my stomach. She was very mature about the whole thing, but in some ways that only made me feel more unappealing to be around. It just wasn’t right that I had to tell her that in the first place. Not right at all.

Praise Be for Dramamine. If not for those little pills, I would have puked all over my retro-cool interior twenty minutes ago. Ann drives like a mad woman. She’s taking the term “tossable” for a car quite literally and hurling the Mini around every curve she can find. And she found quite a few. She had bypassed the highway route all together and had taken side roads. It would take an hour or more longer this way, but it was more interesting. Oh, and as far as that other thing, my stomach was slightly better (thank you for asking). It certainly wasn’t the perfect conditions for the date of a lifetime, but I have to say, it was pretty cool. Me, the Mini…Ann.

We didn’t talk much as we drove, instead listening to really bad music turned up much too loud that Ann liked for some inexplicable reason. She did ask a couple of times how I was feeling. Nice on one hand. Really embarrassing on the other. Being that we had gotten a late start and had taken the indirect, non-highway route, both of us were starving. I was a bit reluctant to eat as sometimes it made my stomach worse. Then again, sometimes it made it better. So, go figure.

Ann stops at this little place on the side of the road to get some food. It turns out to be a place specializing in fried Perch, which I find kind of funny considering my seafood poisoning story. It only occurs to Ann after we order that if I had, in fact, gotten sick from eating fish (which I hadn’t, of course) that making me eat fish for lunch was kind of cruel. I play it up like it’s fine. I’ll just tough it out because that’s just the sort of guy I am.

Conversation consists of stories about my years in Los Angeles exaggerated slightly to sound more glamorous than it actually was. For instance, I make sure to mention several of my meetings with various stars and celebrities even though the reality is that said meeting consisted of little more than an introduction and a handshake before they moved on to people that actually mattered to them. Ann seems duly impressed and fascinated. Thank you, Nancy, for once again nailing it.

Speaking of nailing, have I told you how good Ann looked? What a body. Wow. And smart. So smart. Yup. Smart and well-built just the way I like ’em. What the hell was wrong with me last night when I couldn’t get into it thinking about her? I don’t understand. Once again, I deplore you, explain me to myself!

I learn the following about Ann over a course of fried Perch which, I must admit, tasted quite good. She had gone to college at Michigan and generally liked it quite a bit. Richie was far too dumb to ever get into U of M and went to Michigan State which was a three hour round trip from Ann Arbor (no connection to this Ann) where they lived. After they graduated undergrad, the happy couple returned to Madison where Ann got her Masters Degrees. She still regrets moving and not staying in Ann Arbor, but apparently, Richie wanted them to be closer to his family.

Which brought up an interesting bit about how Ann felt about her own family. She had been near them her entire life and Ann Arbor was as far away as she ever got (which ain’t real far). However, she always felt conflicted by her need to be with them and her desire to be truly independent. When I asked her why she didn’t just move away and try it for a while, she just kind of shrugged and blew it off.

Of course, I immediately begin to fantasize about whisking her away from Bovine Village to New York and making her my girlfriend on a full-time sort of basis. I even start to tell her that I think she would like New York and start laying the groundwork for the pitch. Then it strikes me that it doesn’t matter. I can’t go back to New York, anymore. I can’t count on even be alive to whisk her away to anywhere. In fact, the ONLY thing I can count on is that the fantasy of living out a life with anybody, anywhere, just ain’t gonna happen. Oh well, at least the fish was good.

So, I tell Ann I’d like to hang around outside the restaurant for a bit after we eat. The fact is, we are already in danger of getting there so late we will only have an hour or so to look at the Museum. Probably enough. I mean, how big could it be? It’s Milwaukee. And yes, I feel like a total wimp saying anything or doing anything that might indicate I don’t feel real hot. I mean, actually, I feel fine in terms of almost everything and would absolutely be driving on, if I were alone. Notice I said, “almost.” Unfortunately, I know all too well the rumblings and bloated feeling of the brewing storm in my gut. Did I just say “bloated?” Oh my God, I am gay.

Well, clearly not, since as I try attentively to listen to Ann as we walk I find myself asking that classic question. I wonder if she swallows? Just wanted to remind you who you were dealing with here. Besides it’s the truth. That’s exactly what was going through my mind as I looked at her intensely and tried to look really interested in some story she was telling about her job. Yes, yes, I’m a pig. Tell me something I don’t know.

After a brief break walking around in the cold, we climb back into the car and head off to Milwaukee. Ann apologizes again for making me eat fish right after I, supposedly, had gotten ill from it. I tell her it might not have even been food poisoning and that I’ve had stomach issues related to stress ever since I got into advertising.

Actually, they really started when Shit Eater joined the company, but I would save that story for later.

So, we chatted about advertising for a while and our favorite campaigns, not one of which I had ever had the chance to work on. We did agree that the advertising for the Mini was some of the best out there as they had totally nailed the spirit and philosophy of it. Speaking of which (No, nothing to do with “nailing.” How hackneyed do you think I am?)..Speaking of which, the Mini was really in its element on the roads Ann had decided to take.


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