Submitted by Lilly:
Jonah explained from the beginning that he was a man of mystery:
He wrote, "People like to think that I'm an all-around good guy, and I am. But I have certain things from my past that I want to keep secret. I'm sure that everyone does."
I wrote back, "Just so long as one of those certain things isn't, 'I'm a serial killer,' or something similar."
"No! God no! Nothing at all similar to that!" he wrote back, "I just have certain secrets that the whole world would probably be way better off not knowing."
Ah, melodrama. I'm sure that he had broken a few hearts, hurt people along the way... everyone does. I liked everything else about him. That is, aside from the fact that he worked in his little bit about keeping secrets with each exchange.
Before meeting up for the first time, we spoke on the phone. As a joke, I asked him, "So, tell me one of your deep, dark secrets." I meant it to be fun and flirtatious.
He took a deep breath and sighed. "Let's just say that you'd have second thoughts about meeting me if you knew."
Again, at this point, I was reasonably sure that he was just kidding around, or that he was making too big a deal out of something minor. I was expecting "I had a homosexual experience in college" or "I spied on my sister undressing."
We met up, and he did come across as a good guy. A little nervous, but I chalked that up to first-date anxiety. I was nervous, too. However, unlike him, I didn't keep looking over my shoulder and biting my lip. He was seriously uptight about something, and I think that it was more than the date.
I asked him what was going on. He asked me to tell him something about myself that I considered secret, and then he'd tell me his deep, dark tale.
I told him that I had stolen a bike during freshman year in college, and returned it two years later. I had never told anyone this before.
He leaned in close to me and said, "I did something awful a few years ago too. Ever since then, I've had a kind of physical... issue."
"Impotence?" I asked, perhaps a bit too loud. Sorry.
He said, "I did a ritual with a girlfriend and now... I have two dicks."
You read that right. I was in a great mood that night, so I didn't see any harm in indulgence. He repeated what he said, and explained that he had a second member above his naturally occurring man-growth.
I told him, "That's awesome. Can I see?"
I wasn't about to let such an opportunity pass me up. There are only so many times that a woman experiences a two-pronged man in her lifetime. I wasn't about to put my mouth or my lady-parts on top of him... I just wanted to see.
He nodded solemnly.
After dinner, we went to my car, I drove to a little suburban street, parked, and asked him to yank down his pants. He did.
He had a regular, floppy wang. Just one.
"I see one," I said.
He groaned and parted some of his hair. There, just barely poking up from his skin, was a little pimple. Emphasis on little.
I laughed. "I wouldn't go around bragging that that's a second penis anymore... and especially if it was your first one, and the second one's the larger."
He laughed a bit himself, then reached for my head. I anticipated this, and shoved him back at the passenger side door.
He went for my head again, with both hands, and I threatened to scream rape if he tried it again.
"You wanted to see my dick!" he said.
"I wanted to see two dicks," I explained, "You didn't deliver. And I never promised you anything. Ever. If anyone here owes anyone something, it's you."
"Fuck this," he said, hiking his pants back up and jumping out of my car.
I drove home, not having seen a man with two of anything, except perhaps with two sex drives. C'est la vie.
BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
ReplyDeleteHoly shit, I love this website.
Wow. That is way too much effort to try to get some head. If he just asked directly he'd get lucky sooner or later.
ReplyDeleteI could have told him any ritual involving a cockring made from the earwax of slain puppies was only going to make you break out.
ReplyDeleteIn journalism this is known as bait and switch. You pique the reader's curiosity with the promise of information about something, for example a two-cocked man, but deliver something so disappointing that the reader is less likely to return.
ReplyDeleteIf the guy had been a bit shrewder he would have at least elicited a kiss to begin with so that the OP was aroused. Presumably most guys would like to sport an erection before revealing themselves to a woman for the first time.
^ Anywhere outside of journalism, this is known as "dude really wants a BJ." Kudos for being original about it, but saying you have 2 dicks then only providing 1 with a side of genital warts is not the best way to go about it.
ReplyDeleteReally, if you want a BJ, don't drop the "two-dick" line - that's not the sex act I'd want with such a specimen.
ReplyDeleteWell played all around, OP
ReplyDeleteResponding to this thread and Nikki's reply to Christian about the attraction of ABCOD, I am fascinated by the regularity with which genitalia, sexual gratification, socio-economic status, etc. figure as the primary subjects.
ReplyDeleteIt often seems that the OPs have a sort of I-can-fall-in-love switch that they are prepared to flick once they have done due diligence on the other elements. In short, where did all the Romeo and Juliett type passion go?
(Yes, there are few and that-was-our-first- date-and-now-were-a-couple stories, but I didn't find them gratifying. They were like Reader's Digest stories, only weaker.)
Among the most interesting posts is the beach child that never was, because the OP is tormented by the notion that he missed something by trying to plan everything out. If he had just shot his load and surrendered as her womb contracted to suck up his jizz?
Also, it seems very obvious now that -- except for Nikki, who seems so sane and who maybe faking it to some degree -- many of the regular readers and contributors are actually people who are hoping, although they are disappointed thus far, for some glimpse into a happier life even if vicariously.
On Youtube there is a very, very short clip that really sums it up.
I have no secrets
by Gary Faules (videos)
0:18 Now, this is one "on the street interview"
What a great trick! I had never heard such an elaborate scheme to whip out one's junk, but really, what a clever guy.
ReplyDeleteAnd the bike thieving secret - definitely one you should keep in the deep down recesses of your black, black soul.
You may as well have confessed to murder, that's just effing evil. My bike was just stolen. I wish every circle of hell upon that person.
No amount of me reenacting Pee Wee's Big Adventure will ever bring it back...
Seven-Thirty, it seems very obvious now thatyou are hoping, although they are disappointed thus far, for the thinnest scrap of approval or the merest assurance you are a Deep Thinker. But all of your pontifications are plodding, puerile pablum.
ReplyDeleteAll that build up for 'head'? That's it? HEAD?
ReplyDeleteI was expecting him to be guiding his 2 dicks toward '1 in the pink and 1 in the stink'.
How disappointing!
There is a large fan ten feet outside my office right now. It is about 2 1/2 feet in diameter and turned to the highest level of speed. It is airing out the carpeting down the hall, which was recently cleaned in preparation of the arrival of students next week. It is so loud that I can't hear my coworker's phone ring in the interior office three feet away from me.
ReplyDeleteThis fan is less annoying than anything Seven-Thirty writes.
There is a gnat flying around my office space, attracted by the bosc pear I just finished eating. I have been swatting at it, hoping to send it to an early demise, but it still persists in flying in front of my face as I type this.
This gnat is STILL less annoying than anything Seven-Thirty writes.
However, I did see that YouTube video earlier this week, and I agree that it plays nicely with the content of this story, although I would disagree that it's relevant to any of Seven-Thirty's disjointed ramblings.
Fizziks, if I am interested in recognition or approval, and I don't deny it's possible, then what is so different about you?
ReplyDeleteWhy bother with the inflated diction if you are not trying to impress. But I don't hold it against you.
Instead of offering the thinnest scrap of approval, Fizziks, tell my why an intelligent, educated person would engage in running joke about a vagina that doesn't exist?
Aren't the people who read and contribute to this commentary part of some weird community? What do we get out of this? Can we ask Jared for our money back?
Just asking in my puerile plodding way.
I agree with others on here that this was an elaborate plan to get some head. I do wonder why he kept looking over his shoulder, though, and also what kind of ritual he could have performed that would supposedly give him another dick.
ReplyDelete^If that information fell into the wrong hands, Baku, think of the havoc it could wreak in our cities and towns worldwide! Undersatisfied women would be performing the ritual on their husbands, boyfriends, and lovers! Perverts would be adding penises to everything they could see--women, dogs, stop signs, small watercraft!
ReplyDeleteAnd think of the economic side-effects! PANTS would need to be refashioned, as would boxers, briefs, and that sexy combination, boxer-briefs! Condom sales would sky rocket as would lube! If supply didn't meet demand, the cost for such things would also sky rocket, causing consumers, perhaps, to make do with rubber gloves and mayo...a terrible thing for vaginas everywhere.
THAT'S why Jonah had to keep the ritual--and its terrible consequences--a secret. He was a man of honor who didn't want to bring the world to its knees...not if Lilly was willing to do that for him.
(Yes, a long way to a bj joke, but I feel it's worth it.)
7:30 - "Instead of offering the thinnest scrap of approval, Fizziks, tell my why an intelligent, educated person would engage in running joke about a vagina that doesn't exist?"
ReplyDelete...Is that like Schrodinger's cat? Or maybe her vag is more like God...just because we've never seen it (except burned into our mind's eye, I guess) doesn't mean it doesn't exist.
Either way, I think I want to name my band's next EP "The Vagina That Doesn't Exist." Thanks for the creative inspiration!
If my vagina doesn't exist, it would come as a great surprise to my clients, not to mention my tenants. Plus where am I supposed to keep my car keys when I go to the beach?
ReplyDelete@2:13 - heh, Schrodinger's vag. Me likie.
Hahaha this was a good bad date.
ReplyDeleteWhat kind of @$$hat would try to pass a ZIT off as a second man-sword? It's a ZIT. An infected pocket of bacteria. Like this fellow's heart, mind, and personality. The OP dodged a bullet
ReplyDeleteNikki, it’s no wonder you’re annoyed. Though you only have a wedge in this particular cyber pie, ABCOD is your personal space in some sense. And if you feel that has been invaded by a mindless insect that you cannot kill how irksome that must be.
ReplyDeleteWorse the insect has enormous wings that generate a deafening but utterly dull racket. The fucker is blocking out the quiet pleasure you used to have in applying your mind to a good posting. Of course you must object.
Can’t 7:30, you wonder, perceive how irritatingly sophomoric his questions and observations are? Just by showing up among the cool people he is wrecking the party.
I wish I could just dismiss my own thoughts as an annoyance and go back to enjoy reading ABCOD as I did in the very beginning. As you observed, the pleasure in coming here is not in uncritically swallowing the dried out owl pellets of date failure, after all what are they but bits and shreds of selfishness, boorishness, or madness, which offer little nourishment.
Indeed, everybody who reads here regularly jumps upon each new text and pulls it apart as fast as they can to label the components. Ah, here is another example of this or that.
After a bit of contemplation the daring re-spin the stories for amusement.
In this post Fizziks saw a bit of Chaucer, you know, the Miller’s Tale, in which the love sick Absalom is at the window, trying to get a kiss from hot fox cheating wife.
Dark was the night as pitch, aye dark as coal,
And through the window she put out her hole.
And Absalom no better felt nor worse,
But with his mouth he kissed her naked arse
Right greedily, before he knew of this.
Aback he leapt- it seemed somehow amiss,
For well he knew a woman has no beard;
He'd felt a thing all rough and longish haired,
And said, "Oh fie, alas! What did I do?"
There you go a hairy vagina right in the face, not unlike the Fizziks’ imagery. I like it. It’s funny.
But Fizziks’ next comment is pure bile, with no more connection to the text than Seven-Thirty’s disjointed ramblings and yet when I call her on it, and this site is all about being judgmental of others, I am accused of spoiling the thread.
But if ABCOD is a sort of running discourse on the meaning of life and the conversation between the visitors to the site is at least if not more half the reason to frequent this site, then what is/are the relationship(s) here about?
Never mind me, for if Fizziks sussed me out right, I am just a person is desperate search of affirmation. You wouldn’t have any relationship with me at all, except that you cannot exclude me or those whom Jared feeds meth.
But what about the other relationships, the ones involving flirting, cheering up, you know the discussions between Architect, Fizziks and the usual gang. That to me is a kind of friendship or community.
So, what are the members getting? Are they fulfilled and happy in their sex and love lives, in which case one must wonder if they simply need to feel even more fortunate, normal and blessed.
Or, alternatively are they between relationships? Is it possible that some are unable to imagine a successful relationship? Is there some sort of empty solace in seeing others fail? Or have I got it wrong. The stories actually record triumphs of dating in so much as disaster is averted or avoided?
If we continue to meet here for the next three years, where will we be?
C'mon, dude. It's a bad date.
ReplyDeleteSparkina, I hope you get cancer.
ReplyDeleteHey 7:30 - tl;dr
ReplyDeleteAhh.. please stop it! Seven-Thirty would only write a few sentences of nonsense psychobabble trying to gleam deeper meanings from these stories. Now you all have made him write entire thesis-long dissertations and multiple paragraphs of incoherent gobbleygook. Please stop, Seven-Thirty's mom is annoyed that her dishes are no longer spotlessly clean by the time she comes back from work.
ReplyDeleteCoriolanus, you could have taken Nikki's lead and pretended not to have read a word.
ReplyDeleteSeven-Thirty, I actually *didn't* read a word of it. I scrolled down to see how long it was and realized that reading your Unibomber-esque manifesto wasn't worth my time.
ReplyDeleteAnd Coriolanus, you're right. It's better just to go all Mean Girls on Seven-Thirty and ignore everything he writes.
Seven-thirty is just trying too hard.
ReplyDeleteJesus, I'm gone for a couple weeks and Seven-Thirty rips off my Inane Rambling Mojo(tm).
ReplyDeleteFizziks, I found your keys, but they're the ones to the backdoor. I'm still stuck but can get wifi by the 3rd story window, to the left. You know, the one by your shaving scar. Can you let me out or sprinkle some pepper down here so I can go all Time Bandits on it? Thanks! P.S.-The rent's in the mail, sorry it's three weeks late, I've been occupying.