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A Bore of a "Man"

When I was in my late 20's, I befriended a woman I met on a bus traveling from Port Authority to my parents' home upstate NY. She lived around the corner up here, but our paths never intersected because she was a few years' older. Back then, friendships were mostly made in childhood, during summers with peers the same age. The difference of four years when you're a kid was tantamount to forty.

One day, she came over and while hanging out on the dock with me, flagged some boater in. He pulled up and we both jumped inside. Rapid introductions were made and we went for a boat ride. He was thin back then, totally bald and (as I enjoy saying) brought the 'f' out in fugly. I guess his physicality wouldn't have been too bad if he had a personality. He inherited a business from his family and that was pretty much it. Not much more substance going. Intellectually or otherwise. In my book, he rated dud.

The woman I befriended moved the year after and that guy seemed to have disappeared as well. Then, twenty years later, this guy with a belly resembling Buddha comes over to my dock in a super-sized boat. I didn't recognize him. Besides the massive weight gain, he wore a wonderful toupee. He took me out for a boat ride and we talked about the goings on in my small town. Afterwards, he became a frequent boat visitor with not much to say.

It took him a year or so, but then he started in with, "Wanna give me a blow job?" Reviled, disgusted and green, I told him to shut the fuck up. It then became his mantra. Back then, I recognized to argue with morons would make me one as well. I just limited my interactions with him. Every time he came over in his boat, I'd tell him I had things to do. It was easier than full-scale warfare.

Soon after, he met a beautiful woman and she moved in with him. I met her several times and she was lovely beyond belief. I don't know what she saw in him, but she adored the ground he walked on. Every time he started in with his blow job request, by now hollered from his boat, I'd politely tell him that Carrie wouldn't like to know he solicits sex from other women.

"She's not Jewish, so I don't care," he responded several times. What an asshole in so many ways! He should be thankful; he was celibate for decades until he met her! I walked away; I had better things to do.

Once my book came out, he stopped with the blow job requests yelled from his aging super-sized boat and senior-citizen jet ski, complete with arm rests and ramps. Instead, he acted... jealous. And spoke to me in such a vicious way, I was astounded as to why he bothered talking to me. I didn't interact, I just walked away.

Last summer, he drove up to me. Before he could utter a word, I said, "Lick my clit."

"WHAT?"

"Lick my clit."

"Why the hell are you saying that?"

"Because I listened to you for years asking for a blow job. Now it's my turn. Lick my clit."

Haughtily, he straightened his curved spine and stated in a sanctimonious manner, "I NEVER said that to you!"

He never never never stopped by since. And when he sees me on my deck, like right now, he revs up his senior-citizen jet ski and crawls away.

In retrospect, I should've said those words to him years ago!


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This is a work of fiction. Names, character, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.






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