Tuesday, February 4, 2014

41 - It Is What It Is Part 2

     Fanuiel Hall is Boston is incredible.  It is one of the great tourist attractions/traps in the Northeastern part of the United States. You can buy any type of trinket, get any type of souvenir, have any picture taken, indulge in the history of the thirteen colonies, sit and people watch, or just marvel at the vast space.
     I watched as the space concentrated on the little table the five of us occupied on the outer patio of Ned Devines.
     "Let me just get this ... I can believe ..." D's pretty face flushed as I restated my announcement.
     "The whole year dedicated to finding the perfect techniques.  I'm so tired of listening to what most men aren't doing that I am going to be one of the ones that does."
     I waited for the bomb to drop.  I knew D had warned everyone that I may say anything at any time but the question was had I gone too far.  The Jager left it's trademark taste on my lips and the liquid courage was mixed with the pure adrenaline of fighting downtown Boston ôraffic.
     "So I guess this explains Black Pornstar," said N leaning back in her chair and slapping her thighs.  "D, you said he was crazy but this ... this is..." her words trailed off into her martini.
     "You can't say this to a woman who hasn't been let's say out and about for over a year," T pointed her cigarette in my general direction.  "You're liable to get jumped."
     I sat back in my chair so I could pull the fresh pack of American Spirit Reds out of my pocket.  I took my lighter from my front pocket and lit the first cigarette of the night.
     "That just kills it for me," said J, D's old roommate.  "I don't care if you could lick the back of your own neck, I see you pull out a cigarette and it's done.  I smoked for ten years and blah!"
     "Now that just makes you more attractive to me," said T.
     A said nothing at first.
     "The whole year?!?" she finally managed.  D just laughed.  She was feeling no pain.
     "You now see why I love this kid?" She said hugging me and resting her head on my shoulder.  She and I had the same relationship that Paris and I had; there was an understanding.  It wasn't love; it was a comfort, more of a collection of moments than anything else.  There were just many more good moments than there were bad moments.
     "Look at me.  I'm not that 6' 190 lb super model guy with The six pack abs and the stone cut face.  I have to do anything I can to tip the scale in my favor.  I just started working out again.  I'm out to lose twenty pounds."
     "You look just fine," said D.  Her eyes sparkled.
     "Lose twenty pounds and I'll let you borrow one of my skirts," said J.
     "I couldn't take a skinny man.  I'd break him in half," said T.
     N chimed in, "Little men just don't do it for me.  If a guy is 6' and weighs between 175 and 190 he may as well be a coat rack."
     "The whole year?!?" I heard come from A's section of the table.
     The alcohol was flowing almost as freely as the conversation.  Over numerous rounds for the crew and one more drink for myself I decided to start pointing out men in the crowd to see what their opinion was.  I was almost the gay office buddy of the table
     "So how do you plan to hone this skill?" asked N finally stopping the search for their perfect guy.
     "I've been doing some reading.  Anatomy and Physiology books.  Videos, not porn, instructional videos."
     "A woman knows when she sees a man if he's good in bed.  You don't strike me as being good in the sack," commented T. 
     "That's why I'm taking this year ro learn." I said as the slick smile cust across my face.
     "D, do you have anything to add to this?" T asked her point blank.
     D flushed and then looked at me laughing.  "I've never slept with him."
     "That's why she's kept me around for so long."  I said hugging D back.
     "If you plan to dedicate the whole year to oral, I'd keep you around, too!" Said A sinking back into her chair.
     Fanuiel hall is incredible.
That Beautiful Black Man

No comments:

Post a Comment