Could You Reuse it on Your Mouth?

Submitted by Maria:

I met Jim at a bar on New Year’s Eve.  We talked briefly, danced for half a song and took some pictures together after I emerged from something called the “Ice Cage,” a refrigerated room where one does vodka shots while wearing Russian military hats and coats.  Impressed with my handing of fermented beverages and how stylish I made Russian military attire appear, he asked me for my number.

I knew very little about Jim except that he lived in Connecticut and dealt with computers, but he showed some interest in me.  After a few email exchanges and brief phone calls he asked me out to dinner.  He picked me up from work in his BMW and we made small talk about our jobs as we approached the restaurant.  We went to a little Italian place and since he knew nothing about Italian food he asked me to order for him, which I did obligingly. 

As we ate our food over candlelight, wine and flowing conversation about graduate school, he abruptly changed gears and asked with a smirk that climbed up the side of his face, “I have a question for you, and you could choose to answer this or not.”  His look had a mischievous quality to it as he paused and finally asked, “How old were you when you lost your virginity?”

Choking on my wine, but luckily, not spewing it across the table into his face, I calmly put my wine glass down, folded my hands in my lap as I leaned into the table and whispered across to him, “I choose not to answer that.”  Then I smiled which he reciprocated.  

“Fair enough,” he said, “So then, let me ask you this…what’s the craziest thing you’ve ever done?”  My mind reeled with confusion.  What the hell was this, a game of 20 freakish questions?  I racked my brain to come up with something because we were still working on our main course and I was afraid of what he’d ask next, but I honestly, couldn’t think of anything. 

I responded flatly, “Hmm, I don’t know… I'm coming up blank.  How about you?”

Jim proceeded to tell me about his college roommate, a homosexual boy from India.  So every night, after getting high or “fucked up” as he referred to it with friends, Jim would crawl into his dorm, take some electrical tape, and tape his own asshole shut.

At this point I don’t know what my facial expression was. My mouth was agape and I was so horrified that the table of gay boys next to us would hear about my date’s homophobic tendencies.  All I could do was put my hand up to his face and say, “Seriously… okay... enough.”

Jim laughed, took another bite of his pasta and a sip of his wine, and shared a final precious detail: "You know, I didn’t know what the fuck this guy would do to me when I was sleeping, I had to protect myself.   It sucked when I had to take a shit in the middle of the night because I’d had to rip the tape off, but I’ll tell you my ass was smooth as a baby.”

I never did discover if his ass was still smooth as a baby.