Wednesday, November 16, 2005

The Secret to Getting Laid

Weary Hag mentioned a news item to me that’s been getting a lot of press time here because it’s local. A fifteen year old boy was having sex with a thirty-seven year old woman, the mother of one of his friends. She’s pregnant now and the two are married (Georgia law allows for underaged marriages when a baby is involved – no, I’m not referring to the husband in this case). However, the boy is still below the age of consent so the woman was arrested for molesting her husband. The full story is here and here.

I could comment with righteous indignation about the sorry state of affairs and blah blah blah blah, but I’m not going to because I don’t care. When I first saw this, the thought that ran through my mind was “Way to go, dude.” When I was his age, a friend of mine had a hot mom we all wanted to bag; in fact, she looked much better than the woman in the news. So, to this lucky kid living the life we only dared dream about, I say “Congratulations.” Also “You should have worn a condom,” because fifteen is not the age to start a family.

This reminds me of my high school days when all I thought about was partying and getting laid and killing people, unlike my adult years wherein I eventually settled down and cut back on the partying. Like most guys at sixteen, I was suffering from a lack of sex, unlike the girls, who were suffering from an overabundance of us. That god sure has one wacky sense of humor, doesn’t he? Anyway, during my many travels I spent a year with my father in rural Kentucky in a town with a liquor store to human ratio of 1:100 (I’m not kidding). The high school had no cafeteria since it didn’t have enough students to justify the expense, so for lunch you could choose from a) being bussed to an elementary school to eat, b) staying at school and eating from the vending machines or bringing your lunch, or c) eating out at one of the many fast food restaurants in the area, by which I mean the McDonalds which had just opened (it was the first fast food restaurant in the area).

Back to the paucity of sex problem, one of the guys I met during my brief stint there was not particularly good looking, but he was tall and seemed to have enough personality and attitude to at least get the girls to talk to him. When I tried to approach one, I usually got the following response: *turns to girlfriend* “Oh my god, he’s talking to me. I can’t believe it. He doesn’t know me or anything. He just walked up and started speaking.” Note – small town people are nuts and don’t deal well with outsiders.

This guy used to brag a lot about getting laid, sometimes as often as three times a week with different partners. He apparently had a knack for going out at nights, smooth talking the girls, and getting into bed with them. Naturally I wanted to party with this guy, so I was thrilled when he invited me along to go out one night, offering to find girls for us both, presumably ones that would talk to me even if I wasn’t local.

I should point out that by inviting me to tag along, what I really mean is that I got to chauffer him around in my 1969 Mustang Fastback(1) getting 9 MPG as I drove him all over creation looking for a hookup. I didn’t question the fact that everywhere he went he only had one girl in mind; I just assumed she might have a friend, or that we would take turns. Fair enough – I had been taught to share ever since my kindergarten days.

Anyway, we took the scenic tour of the county (and probably some neighboring counties as well) and missed every girl we looked for. At the end of the night, he proclaimed “That’s it! Tomorrow we’re telling everybody we got laid. We certainly put in the time for it.”

So, that’s the secret – total lack of honesty. He did as he said and told everyone the next day that he had gotten laid again, although I don’t remember which girl he claimed did the deed with him. Thankfully he left me out of his stories. Nobody asked where I was or what I had done, so I managed to sit that one out and contribute nothing to his legend. Thus ended the great Lothario experiment. I didn’t look for a repeat.

End notes – this memory took place in a tiny town in which at least half of the graduating seniors in my high school were married or engaged due to pregnancies. Again, I’m not exaggerating. Pregnant mothers began showing up in the Sophomore year (or rarely in the 9th grade) and continued to escalate until graduation or dropping out. I mention that in case you get the idea that small town folk are probably godly and pious and therefore don’t sleep around indiscriminately. Also, I meant for this to be a little more coherent, but I’ve spent two days working on it a sentence at a time in between constant work interruptions. And to think I used to complain that I had nothing to do.

And before you women start leaving comments about how all men are pigs or dogs or pigdogs and you can’t find a good one anywhere, take a deep breath and look down. That lumpy carpet beneath your heels is comprised of all the good guys(3) you sprint over to make it to the ones who will treat you like crap.

1 The car was an aquamarine pony car in excellent condition in a time and place where muscle cars were considered cool, so it wasn’t Linda’s(2) fault we weren’t getting any action.
2 I named her Linda because I liked that name and I didn’t actually know anyone named Linda so there wouldn’t be any confusion.
3 Notice I didn’t say I was one of the good guys. They’re out there, waiting the day when you stop fawning over the bad boys and stop complaining about how you can never meet anyone decent. I know this because, as an outsider, I’m in a prime position to observe.
Jilted, out

14 comments:

annush said...

"That lumpy carpet beneath your heels is comprised of all the good guys(3) you sprint over to make it to the ones who will treat you like crap."

damn...that was almost poetic...buthow do you explain me? I was nice even to my stalker!

sands of time said...

And i thought the carpet was lumpy from all the dirty deeds taking place on it.
I don't think nice guys always come last so to speak.

PBS said...

In school I liked the bad boys, not the nice ones who were interested in me. Now I wonder how those nice guys are, probably happily married--while I'm divorced! You have a point.

Just Some Gal said...

You know what makes me laugh about this post?

It's true... Don't get me wrong...

BUT

I thought I would go after the seemingly nice guy...he was average looking, he seemed so sincere, he fawned after me, he seemed to try so hard...

Even some of the good guys are wolfs in sheep's clothing.

Wonderful post Grant.

Liz said...

The good ones are out there but most gals are too stupid to notice them until after 25. As for men being pigs, yea they are, but we ladies don’t slaughter them, we just keep feeding them slop.

Sorry you didn’t get the chance to get a girl pregnant that night.
Ever find out what happened to your friend the counterfeit stud?

Stacy The Peanut Queen said...

"The good ones are out there but most gals are too stupid to notice them until after 25"

I am totally with Liz on that one!

Yes, I heard about that 15 year old boy getting that woman pregnant and I agree with you...he should've worn a condom. Hell, I am 36 years old and even WAAAAY back in MY school days, we all knew how to avoid preganancies and where to get free condoms if we wanted them (the local health department).

Crazy stuff....

Grant said...

Liz - we lost contact after I was shuffled back to my other parent. He's probably still there, growing a beer gut and regaling all his friends with tales of how often he gets laid.

Weary Hag said...

MOST entertaining post, Grant!

Your friend reminds me of the "Billy" I wrote the letter to in my most recent post.

Now ... the story out of GA ... I'm not sure I'd congratulate him for the getting married part - MAYBE for the getting laid by the older woman part, but ... well. And you're dead on about the condom.

My first car was a Mustang Fastback. Will have to email a photo of it to you.

As to the "till they're 25" rule here that the others speak of ... I'd set that a little higher, like maybe around 30ish, but otherwise I couldn't agree more.

I too liked the bad boys; the muscle heads. I think they liked me too. The bastards.

Butterscotch said...

I think guys get a bad rap sometimes, cause really, it takes two, and any girl who is stupid enough to believe anything a teen-age guy, mm, perhaps ANY guy, with a hard-on is saying, well, shame on her.

Plus, girls are just as horny, if not moreso- they just tend not to be as blatant about it for fear of being labled a whore.

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