This entry could have had so many other titles; “Penis Peenata,” “Psychic Awakenings,” or “No One Is Ever Going To Believe This One.” Bachelor #2 and I met on www.nerve.com. From his profile I can tell he’s a bit eccentric and artsy. He mentions that he went to college in Boston (so did I) and he sounds like the kind of guy who would have went to the same college as me. It was a very unconventional, communications focused, artsy school. Think “Fame” for the TV/Film/Radio/Actor set. If you’re a guy attending this school, you’re either a little crazy or gay. (Now this doesn’t count for everyone of course, some of my guy friends from college are straight and sane, however, they are in the minority.)
Bachelor #2 also mentions in his profile that he’s a Buddhist, he will NOT date Libras, and he’s a writer currently developing a musical based on the Buddha. When I tell my ex-hub that I’m going out with this guy he exclaims, “Angie! He’s GAY! He went to (insert name of my alma mater here), and he writes show tunes. He’s gay and watch, you’re going to like him the best out of all the 3 bachelors.” (He fucking better not be right about this one.)
I meet Bachelor #2 at Bergin’s on Fairfax. It’s an Irish bar with a very down home vibe. The walls are covered with shamrocks, there’s a jukebox and the Laker game is on. It’s bustling when I walk in and I scan the room to see if I can recognize him from his profile picture. I finally spot him and I make my way over. I went into this date hoping I wasn’t going to be attracted to this guy. I’m still really stuck on Bachelor #1 but I’m heeding my friend’s advice to keep my options open whilst casting multiple lines into the ocean. He’s cute! Very tall and he has a scruffy beard (I love scruffy beards) and he’s wearing a knit cap and a leather jacket. “Hi, I’m Angie” I say with a smile and extend my hand to shake his. He says hi, stands up and gives me a hug.
I settle in at the bar and order a drink. We start to make small talk and have the usual “So how long have you been doing the on line dating thing?” blah blah conversation. Within the first 10 minutes of the date he tells me that 80% of all first dates end up in bed. Hmm, that sounds awfully high to me and I tell him so. He says that he thought so too until he thought back to his last 4 first dates and well, “you know” he says with a sly smile as he eye rapes me.
Did he really just throw that out there? Yes, yes he did. You know what’s maybe even creepier than that? He prefaced his little factoid by saying, “My mom was watching Oprah and they were talking about the number of first dates that end in sex and she called to tell me about it.” What? Really? Gross. Why is your mom calling you about sex stats on Oprah? (Shit, I wished I asked him that now.) I told him I’ve been off the dating scene for about 7 or 8 months now but it was time for me to get back out there. He asks me how I have been “getting my needs met” since I haven’t been dating for awhile. Wow this guy is really giving me the hard core press. “Um, I don’t know, um..I…” I can’t form an answer because I’m in shock at how forward he is.
I’m a little caught off guard but I just dodge the question and I steer the conversation toward his work. This gets him off the sex thing (for now.) Work talk moves to music talk and then moves to college talk. I ask when he graduated and he tells me 1983. Excuse me? I was 10 in 1983. He said he was 38 in his profile. I do the math in my head and put him at 50. Fifty?! He doesn’t look 50 but now that I know he’s 50, I’m even a more grossed out.
We had gone to the same college but obviously we didn’t attend during the same years (because I was in fucking 4th grade at the time!) There was an infamous dorm at our college that was known for being haunted. Everyone had stories of unexplainable things happening there. It was a pretty old building with creepy gargoyles on the outside pillars. “Yeah weird things started happening to me in that dorm. I eventually had to move out,” he tells me. For a second I get excited that he might have some good ghost stories. Fun! Instead, he tells me about the journey of his “psychic awakening.” “Are you psychic?” I asked excitedly. “Yes” he answers as he slowly nods his head. “Can you see people around me? Is my grandpa here? Can you see my aura?” He can’t do any of these things. Then what kind of fucking “psychic awakening” bullshit is he talking about?
I’ll spare you all of the inane details and give you the major bullet points. His psychic awakening (code for mental breakdown) began when he started having an inner ear issue that felt like his life force was being sucked out of him. He would have dreams that he was standing on a cube and he’d look down and see nothing but the black abyss and knew if he jumped off, he would die. He would wake up and couldn’t move his body although his mind was awake. Oh, and one time, he was able to transmit the radio signal from WBCN through his body. What? I don’t even ask for an explanation on that one. He saw numerous doctors that all told him the same thing, “fleeting anxiety.” I just nod with my eyes wide like I’m hanging on to every word. Well, I AM hanging on to every word but it’s not for the reason he thinks. The whole time I’m thinking, Wow! He’s crazy and I can’t wait to write this story up!
Months go by and he’s still having these episodes. While his mom is at a party one night, a psychic comes up to her and asks if she has a son in trouble. She says that she does - her son has been going to all these doctors but they can’t find anything physically wrong with him. The psychic tells her to have him call so he can walk him through his psychic awakening. So now that he has a “psychic” sponsor, he’s ready to confront his demons. His demons appear to him one night while he’s sleeping. He wakes up and sees a picture frame on the wall that doesn’t really exist. Out of this frame comes a black cloud of darkness and he knows this is the abyss. “You are a thug of the universe and you have no place here,” he tells it. It starts to dissipate and Jesus comes forth through the frame and tells him it’s going to be alright. “I’m a Jew and I have no real connection to Jesus so I never really understood why he came to me,” he says. “Well, Jesus was a Jew” I say, so there’s your connection.
Holy hot damn have I hit the mother load of crazy. I mean, could this get any weirder? The answer to that question is always yes. Out of nowhere he leans over and plants a kiss on me. I’m so taken aback and freaked out and worst of all, he’s not a good kisser. I swear at this point I fantasize about Bachelor #1 busting through the doors to come and rescue me. He’d throw me over his shoulder and take me far, far away from this crazy, Buddha musical making, psychic awakening, FIFTY year old posing as a 30something hipster.
Just when I think he’s doled out all the crazy for one night, he tells me that he wrote a book and he brought along a copy for me. He hands me a very thin paperback with the following title: “A Gentleman’s Companion, 101 Fascinating Things To Do With Your Penis.” For a second I think I might be hallucinating. Did he really just hand this to me? Is that really what it says on the front cover? Yes and yes. He also took the time to inscribe the book to me before the date because it was already written out before he handed it to me. I hold it like it’s a small fragile wounded bird - I hold it like the gift of gold that it is in my hands. This is AMAZING I think to myself. Truly truly amazing. I shall carry this book on my person for the rest of my days because no one, and I mean NO ONE will believe me otherwise.
What are the fascinating things one can do with their penis? Oh there are so many to choose from. My personal fave is the “Penis Peenata” - this consists of filling up a pinata (peenata in this case) with condoms, lube, sex toys, etc and apparently you are to whack the peenata with your peen until it breaks open. Easy.
We get ready to leave the bar and he’s still thinking he has to chance to get me in bed. (He has no fucking chance.) He asks me where I parked and I tell him in valet. He says he hates the valet. I say I hate walking. As we’re standing in the parking lot waiting for my car to come around he goes in for another kiss. I push him away and say, “You’re dangerous” and I kind of laugh it off. He does not laugh it off. He lets a few minutes pass while we make other random small talk and then he looks me dead in the eye and asks with all the seriousness one could muster up in their penis, “Why did you call me dangerous back there? I’m not dangerous. I’m not a bad guy. I don’t do bad things.” The severe look on his face is unnerving. “No, no, no,” I say, “I didn’t mean it like that, I meant it as a compliment (I’m lying), I meant it as in you could influence me to make bad decisions.” At this he leans into my face and says, “Sometimes bad decisions are good decisions.” You’ve got to be kidding me.
I’m able to get out of there without being molested and he emails me through the dating site later that night. In the subject line it says, “You…” and then in the body of the message it reads, “…have some freakin’ yummy lips. Oh the thoughts…;)” At that I click off the site immediately and have the sudden urge to take a Silkwood shower with holy water and a loofah made out of steel.
My sister is awake when I get home and I start to retell her my tale and we flip through the penis book. We can’t stop laughing as we pick out our new favorite fascinating things to do with penises. I swear this book really exists. However, it is not published under his real name, but rather under his “nom de plume” because anyone who is anyone in the dick-lit scene must have a nom de plume…or in his case, a nom de “peen.”
http://www.amazon.com/Gentlemans-Companion-Fascinating-Things-Penis/dp/061530298X.
