Thursday, August 25, 2011

The Virgin

When I was young, like super young I met this guy at the local convenience store. Don't ask how or why, but we ended up talking. 

I had to be 14, 15 or 16. His name isn't important at this stage of the game but for the sake of him having a name he shall be Carl. Carl was older than I, at least by statutory rape standards. Didn't bother my teen-year-old self in the least. Honestly I should have thought about the consequences, but who does at that age? Not you, dear reader and surely not me.  

WAIT. No I was 16 when I was with what's his face. So I couldn't of have been 16. What was I doing at 15? Hmm. Ok fuck this, for the sake of my story I am going to go with 14. Yes, because I was that age when this happened. I think. 


Carl was my secret. For several reasons but mainly because he was unattractive. 14 and shallow, that's how I rolled bitches. 

So Carl was always trying to feed me or take my 90 pound ass out to eat. Was it a hint? Perhaps, and it worked. We ate out as much as we could. 

Carl loved to eat. And eat he did, burgers, fries, fried chicken, etc. The unhealthy shit too. It helped tremendously that he was a wee bit on the chunky side. 

No matter, Carl would drive us around in his crappy little green Tercel and tell me stories that I cannot recall, probably because I paid zero attention to him and his weird face. I would catch key phrases and comment on them hoping that he would think that I was aware of what he was yapping on about. Guys will say anything to keep the attention of a hot, young thing.  

One non-relationship and several weeks later..

Carl thought that I liked him.

Hey, it had been a few weeks so why wouldn't he think that. Weeks in ohmagawd-I-am-talking-to-this-really-pretty-young-girl in boy speak is like a few  years so it only makes sense. He started calling me more often to "kick it wiz chu" and go eat. Poor portly Carl, he didn't know I loved eating so much too and was the only reason I kept him in my back pocket. If only he'd ask me, I'd tell his dumb ass to jump off a cliff or hide in a broken fridge. No he did not ask, so shut fuck up and keep reading.

It gets creepy. 

Being that he was older, I had to make up some story about myself because I couldn't give me away. No fucking way.

Why at this point? Not like I was going to marry the guy. He drove a Tercel for beginners and it was hard enough listening to his "woe is me" stories. Fucking Eeyore. All suicidal and shit.

I lied to him and said I was about to turn 16. 14 was close enough. Just to shut him the fuck up. 
He chewed it up, like a Burger King Whopper. I was such a great liar. One of the best I knew. 

Unfortunately for me he asked me when my birthday was. I said the first day that came to mind. April 16th. Did I realize that day was rapidly approaching? Probably not, I couldn't see the end of the week had you asked me.

Haha, the 16th. Was that the best I could come up with? Hell motherfucking yeah. Was it a coincidence that I was turning "16" and my so-called birthday was the "16th"? Yes. Yes it was.

Since the day was near, a few weeks later to be exact, he asked me what I wanted for my birthday.

*Side-note*  First let me get this straight, we were not dating. You hear me! NOT DATING. At all. Hell I must have had other "boys" that I talked to back then. We had kissed a couple of times but I didn't like it too much because his lips bumped up against mine in a very unnatural way. It was slightly repulsing. We were not fucking either. I was a still had my "V" card and I sure as shit was not going to give it to Carl, the self-loathing, tormented soul.

Back to the question at hand. What did I want for my birthday? Shit, a million dollars would have done it, that or my eyebrows grown back normally.
Ok, you got me, a tiny pony in glitter boots named Polly. Because how fucking adorable is that? 
(Source. Here, I mean from THIS VERY BLOG) 


I tried to come up with something so far fetched because why not? Seemed like such a grand idea. It was in my nature. I told him "To go to Disneyland or you know some fun magical land" which technically wasn't a lie. I had never been to Disneyland or a fun magical land and there was no fucking way that it was happening anytime soon. Then I thought I should have said something like "Go to Rome" but at that point I had given him my fake birthday wish. He seemed pretty content with my answer.

As the days grew closer to my "birthday" I simply did what I did with other fake facts given throughout the years and forgot about it. My real birthday was no where near April 16th. That day was just like any other.

The weekend of said fake birthday he said he wanted to "get away." He didn't say where was. 
But who was I to argue? Man I was 14, as gullible as they came. I grabbed a few items stuffed them into a plastic Kroger grocery bag and had him pick me up at an undisclosed location. [My house] Don't laugh at my lack of proper luggage, I had never been out of town before, I DIDN'T KNOW HOW THAT PROCESS WORKED! 

*mutters under breathe* 
Fucking judging people I swear. 

Where were my parents you ask. I have no idea. *shrug* 
I didn't tell a soul that I was leaving. 
Overnight or not, one was going to know that I was with Carl except for Carl. If that was his real name.

They would all laugh at me if they saw him. I chose to just shit the fuck up about him. No one needed to know.

His piece of shit green turd picked me up and off we went. 

Wondering where we were headed he said it was a surprise. 

Until we pulled into a parking lot. 

At a fucking park. 

So he could play ball. 

With his other fat, I mean "portly" friends.  

Oh this was the getting away he was talking about? I see, I see. NO I DON'T FUCKING SEE.  
Talk about disappointment. I could have been at home, eating a quesadilla watching Gilmore Girls or scrubbing the dirt encrusted tub till it gleamed or something equally entertaining with my time. 

Instead I sat around on a bench riddled with graffiti and splinters while Carl and his sweaty portly mens bumped against each other in attempts to put a ball in it's place wearing what left little to my now corrupted imagination. 

Finally, after all that sweating on his hairy man parts [legs], we made our way back to the road in the shit green turd Tercel. 
'Surprisingly' we made a pit stop at McDonalds for some grub.

After our food

He gets on the freeway headed west and drives. 

And drives. 

And keeps fucking driving.

An Hour later..

I finally asked him where we were going. Because I had no fucking clue what the fuck was going on. The city lights were long gone and I felt a mini anxiety attack coming on.  

Might have been gas from the McDonalds, but it felt like anxiety.

Why was I being driven into the desert with this stranger? 
Was he going to kill me? 
Was my "V" card was going to be commandeered? 
My family has no clue that I am gone!! JESUS. WHAT THE FUCK WAS I THINKING?!

I lost all control of my rational thoughts. I was now in a nightmare complete with this weird looking man and his big fish lips in a shitty little car that I might just explode in.

I hope he doesn't have a gun. I squeamishly thought. That would be bad. NO I think a knife has to be worse. Why didn't I carry a knife with me? Where would he stick my cute little body? His trunk space sucked, surely I wouldn't fit back there. Right?! Wrong, I could totally fit in that little black coffin in the little turd car. 

He had this gross little smirk the whole time. 

More bad thoughts. 
Oh gawd, he IS going to kill me. I wonder if they'll catch him once he is done with my body. No I am with a Necrophiliac! WHAT IS GOING ON!! Please don't let him be a pervert. Like he wasn't already. He is going to use my butt for a pillow I bet! What if he sticks his pinky in my belly button? ... Shit. Do I at least have clean underwear on? 

Just when I started thinking of compromises, bribes and negotiations he says "Disneyland. Remember you wanted to go for your birthday?"

Oh yeah? OHHHHHH yeahhhh.

Totally forgot.

HAHA of course we are going to Disneyland! Not somewhere off a dirt road. 
Silly me.

Many, many hours later
We arrive in Anaheim with a plan to get a room and get some quick shut eye before embarking on our Disneyland quest. Driving with that twit was so much harder than I knew. I was borderline suicidal.

On the way to California he talked about his whole life story. His caring parents that he wanted me to meet. (Uhh, no fucking thank you, I'll pass) His crazy ex girlfriend. The kids he wanted. The kid he almost had but didn't. The moon, the stars, the god damn milky way.
All of this boring shit I cared nothing about.

He picked the hotel as I waited in the car, hundreds of miles away from anyone I knew. With a stranger.

"God, this is going to make such a good story when I get older, if he doesn't really kill me later" I told myself.

He got the key to the room and walked us up to the second floor of the seedy little blue hotel. As soon as the door opened one thing that stood out to me. 

"One bed?"



"Listen Carl, there is no way I am sleeping on the same bed as you" I told him.

He told me that they only had one bed available so he took it. Because we were both tired I did not have it in me to argue.

We got ready for bed, I in the locked bathroom, him in the one bedded bed room.

I got into bed, threw down a couple of pillows down on the floor for him and reached for the remote to see what the going ons were in the California.

Hello H-B-O!

All of the channels were....quite the show.

No HBO up in that bitch. Channel after channel it appeared that somewhere back in the office they were running some type of machinery that was playing VHS tapes repeatedly from the 80's & 90's.

Every single channel was porn.

Carl made his way to the bed as my tiny mind tried to cover all the bases they were showing on the t.v.

Carl started rubbing my legs. This is where he kills me. 

Yup, I am dead. 

Then my feet. Serial killers don't rub feet do they? Shit, that's exactly what they do. I am so fucked right now.

I was way too tired to argue. I started drifting to sleep when I felt it.

It being wet.

I know you are confused with this whole story but it was wet. My toes. My toes were being wet with his tongue.  

Holy shit, he was sucking on my toes.

I laid there like a zombie playing asleep, so he could finish lapping up the germs my shoes provided to his mouth.

This is all I remember before falling into slumber.

Before you jump to conclusions no "it" did not happen.

We didn't make the whoopie, and not because he had his big weird lips. I explained myself earlier. I just couldn't. Don't get me wrong I LOVE big lips, but his were just gross. They scared me.

He finally finished licking his meal and went to sleep on the floor, just as I had told him too.

While some bizarre porno played in the background.

I wish I was kidding.

Sometime in the early morning

I glanced at the channel he settled on and was surprised to see that there was ice cream and sprinkles involved in this 8 person orgy. The youngest person had to have been in their mid 30's. That kind of porn.

It was so strange. 

I lived to go to Disneyland and back (with my virginity intact) and tell the tale of my "birthday" that wasn't really real, come true. 


  1. That is the craziest fake birthday story I've ever read - it's so hilarious! And Polly is awesome.

  2. OMG. That is CRAZY! I am still interested how you did all that without getting busted and that you still went to Disney after he licked your toes. ew!