Maybe it’s a scar of catholic school, but I don’t want to hear or picture anyone I know having sex. I keep running into these old men that just have to tell me about their sex lives, up to and including fucking goats.
Just shut up.
The worst is Nick, who has shortcut his stories of sex to just “wife time.” And he sneaks it into a lot of conversations — or this post on Strava. “Had a good day today, church, wife time, bike ride.” Like the rest of us are keeping notches on our belts every time he does the nasty. More than once he told me how good sex is for his abs. I’ve talked to his wife before. I don’t want that mental image sneaking up on me every time some ab machine informercial shows up on my TV.
For some reason, I’ve been making new friends against my will (I can’t keep up with the current list of shitheads). And the new group is taking this old man sex thing way past my tolerance.
“So I’m waiting for little Danny in the hot tub,” Terry says. “I was really disappointed he wasn’t there.” Apparently Danny, Terry and Julian have regular hot tub “appointments” (that may or may not include nudity and scuba gear).
It’s like being the weird kid at school – every time I make a face or tell these fuckers to shut up, it just gives them some sort of weird verbal S/M pleasure.
“So you know I’m using the penis pump ever since they removed my prostate,” Terry says proudly in the middle of the bar. “Because you know a lot of men think you’re not a real man without an erection.”
My personal philosophy is moving from atheist into the anti-theist category, but I’m quietly thinking… “Jesus help me.” Only to be followed up with more proof there is no god.
“Does this make you uncomfortable, Kieran,” Terry slurs. ” I like shocking people — you should join us in the hot tub. I’ll bring my cattle prod.”
I accidentally fell into a new set of friends on this trip to Texas last year, and these conversations have slipped into bestiality. Geno from Reno only has 2 jokes, and one is his unnatural fondness for goats.
The goats joke started way before my time, so I can’t give you the origin – as if that would make it better. Geno is this 60-something Jewish (honorary Italian) New Yorker who once punched Rick Pitino in the face. All of his stories are like watching a baseball game — lots of buildup and time waiting for something — any damn thing — to happen. And then… nothing.
His goat’s joke is so old, it has become pithy and to the point, so now I’m torn: do I listen to the meandering melodrama of another Geno tale; or do we just jump straight to the goat?
I don’t want the mental imagine of Geno sneaking up on some innocent farm animal, so I guess I’ll sit through another Newks tennis camp story… Ahh that’s slightly better.
If I want a sex image going through my head, I’ll go to the internet where we all hide our shameful secrets.
So don’t tell me these stories – send me a link of young, healthy, adults I don’t know doing it — with audio please… That way I don’t have to imagine some 60-year old with a goofy smile on his face and his pants down at his ankles every time some vague acquaintance posts a picture of a trip to the petting zoo.
Goddammit, is it really this hard to keep your dirty little thoughts to yourselves.