I think it's just that I'm too fucking nice. But if I'm really not obligated to do anything except reach out to his family and other friends if something happens then that's no big deal.
I mean, I understand the whole hyper-sensitivity to being a doormat thing... but dude, if there's seriously nobody else within hospital range who would know how to contact his family... give him that little piece of mind. The first three years I was living out in LA--when I was doing rather a lot that could land me in an ER--one of my perpetual fears was the fact that literally nobody around me had any idea how to reach out to my family if anything serious ever happened. It's a little scary. Cut the asshole a break.
Ooo, okay, want a good gay roommate story?
Alright so, these particular gay roommates are two of my oldest friends, known them since I was 16 or so back in Jersey. They also happen to be the two friends who initially introduced me to ecstasy (yes, blowjobs were offered though never accepted, and now the cunts have the balls to say that they're not interested anymore--TOTAL BULLSHIT) and when we moved in together out here it just became kind of a weekly routine. Every Friday one of us would go pick up 10 pills for the three of us: 3 for me, 4 for Jay, 3 for Mike. And we'd all drop together as soon as we got home from work but then after a couple hours of making electronic music or playing video games or watching Tool videos or whatever, eventually they'd give each other "the look" and retire upstairs to have deviant, debauched sex.
I would go upstairs too, mostly because Jay would refuse to let me stay downstairs on the grounds that we had a projector in the living room at the time and he was always bitching about burning out the expensive bulbs. So I'd retreat into my room and put on something quite LOUD to drown out the various sounds that would start emanating from their bedrooms. Lots of things that would be loud screams or moans but clearly the air passage was blocked by some kind of obstruction, like a cock, or a gag, who the fuck knows.
But then the funniest thing would always happen around 2 am, when their second round of pills were starting to kick in. I'd hear all the commotion stop, and then there would be a bit of silence, and then I'd hear their bedroom door open, and one set of feet go padding down the stairs to the front door, the front door open, a hushed conversation, the front door closed, and now TWO sets of feet padding their way back upstairs.
And then the noises would get REALLY interesting. Like chains banging against their bedroom door like it was A Gay Christmas Carol, all kinds of crazy shit. I'd just turn the volume up and put on some drum and bass, mostly to cover up the sound of my laughter. And there were also always like three shower trips in the course of these evenings, where they both had to hop in the shower together--I'm assuming first to clean up so they could suck each others dicks and assholes, and then after a whole bunch of ass fucking to clean all the ass off their dicks so they could go back to sucking each other, and then after the NEXT round of ass fucking to do it one more time. These guys were like marathon fuckers when they were pilled up, something I've never been able to relate to.
ANYWAY, one morning I come downstairs and I'm really hungover, all I want is coffee and water. And as I come downstairs I realize that there's a lot of sound coming from the kitchen--I can smell breakfast. And I turn the corner into the kitchen and I see what appears to be like a 17 year old German kid (Mike and Jay were roughly 35 or so at this time?) in a pair of tight, brightly colored underoos, mopping the floor and cleaning dishes. "Oh HALLO! My name is Gunter, I hope you do not mind but I took the liberty of making some breakfast for you all, I have sausages and eggs--you simply MUST try my sausages."
"Um... I mean, thanks, Gunter... the floor looks spotless... but right now my stomach isn't really ready for food, I kinda just wanted some coffee."
"OH I HAVE ALREADY MADE ZE COFFEE! I added a little hazelnut flavoring to it, let me pour you a cup."
"Mmm... that's actually... that's really good, Gunter."
"Are you SURE you do not want some of my sausages? I'm telling youuuuu... ze are delicious!"
"Well... okay yeah, I'll have some of your sausage. Eggs too please. How about an English Muffin?"
And I sat in the kitchen while this young and objectively very good-looking young kid cooked me a fantastic breakfast, literally would not let me get up for anything--fetched me water, coffee refills, all in the tiniest pair of underwear with what appeared to be a fucking HUGE dick just hanging out limp in the pouch. And he was cleaning non-stop--he did our dishes, mopped the floor, scrubbed all the counters, dusted the fucking blinds...
Then Mike and Jay woke up and staggered their way downstairs and just looked at him and say, "Holy shit, you're still here? Um... yeah, you gotta go." Gunter thanked us graciously, ran upstairs, put some clothes on, and left.
I couldn't help but inquire why the fuck they were so rude to the kid after he'd spent all morning cleaning and cooking and stuff and I'll never forget Jay's response: "That kid has been BEGGING us, literally BEGGING us, to come over and clean the entire apartment from top to bottom in his underwear for months."
It was then that I realized... I chose the wrong sexuality.
I mean, once you get past the oppression and insecurity and body issues and the fact that there's not as wide of a pool as there is for straight people (although the pool runs much deeper), being a homo is kind of the best shit ever.
I'm honestly legitimately pissed to this day that I'm straight. I look at my roommates and they have a relationship that I just don't even have a frame of reference for in the straight world. They've been together like fifteen years, they've fucked at least 30-40 other people together, never with a bit of animosity except for when one of them went and sucked a dick without letting the other one know--which happened about twice a year every year for the first 10 years they were together, every time resulting in a fight that lasted about, oh, a week. Then the fence was mended and things went back to normal. They hang out, smoke weed, watch Star Trek a lot, and suck each other off. That's what they do. I have LITERALLY heard arguments between the two in which one is complaining at the other that he hasn't gotten to blow him enough recently, and the dynamics of what "I haven't blown you recently" are fucking MIND-BLOWING to a straight man. It goes something like this:
"DO YOU REALIZE HOW LONG IT'S BEEN SINCE I BLEW YOU?"
"Um... like two days?"
"EXACTLY. THIS IS UNACCEPTABLE."
Straight mind: blown.
well it sounds like Randy has come pretty awesome housemates. Except for the Star Trek thing. I still don't see a part in the story where Randy wakes up with a dick in his ass, did I miss that part?
It's coming, some day soon. I refuse to believe that these two queers are the only people alive who don't want to fuck me.
Oh, I'm sure they want to fuck you, but they don't want to bother with all the bullshit and assholery that goes along with you. You did say they've known you forever, right?
Unit, cover your ears.
There once was a man from Nantucket
Whose dick was so long he could suck it.
And he said with a grin
As he wiped off his chin,
"If my ear were a cunt, I would fuck it."
I'm worried about the state of pronography today with all the VERY fucking extreme things the girls are doing now. If I was 13 and watched that shit my mind would be ruined. Like, you have good parents who raise to the right way and the poof your mind is fucked forever forever.
third date friday, not sure what to do. he wants to mini golf but it is too damn hot. haven't seen anyone else worth meeting on match yet. i was disappointed to discover that all those meet up events they advertise on TV cost extra.