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Fuck Off, You're Way Too Cool for Me!




I drive people mad because my point of view is precisely that: my point of view. I don't take up rallying cries of indignation and outrage; I don't follow party lines. I do what I think is right. My ex-'boyfriend' and I shared similar outlooks in life and politics. That was what attracted me to him, besides his intelligence and the fact he made his living as an artist.

He was super cool.

He got that metrosexual look down flat: the perfect eyebrows (having waxed the unibrow in half), the long, curly hair coiffed in such a way that you don't care about the receding hairline for such a young guy, the thin, sculpted goatee and thin as a whisper beard to outline a very wide face. All topped off with a cap worn jauntily on his big head to give him a rakish look.

He was also thoroughly shaved in the pubic area.

I never was with a man before who thoroughly shaved that area. Perhaps he thought it was sexy, but to me, his dick looked, well, sad and lonely. He reminded me of a moose. Nothing fit. The big head, small shoulders, plump arms, lean body, big stomach, no hips, round rump, skinny legs. And that long uncut penis dangling with a strange black cast to it.

Slightly disturbing sight to behold.

Next to him, I look like a barbarian. My hair's naturally unruly; I wear the minimum of make-up. My shaving skills had never been perfected: I'm always touching up patches of hair behind my calves that I've come to call fetlocks. Insofar as the pubic area, knowing my lack of shaving dexterity, I just dye the whole mess hot pink which looks nice against my tattooed belly and legs.

I bought into his coolness for a while. A few times he crowed that his grandmother was a Palestinian. I let it pass until he made several anti-semitic remarks and then an outright bombardment via text. Living in Florida, his clientele consists of wealthy Jews, merchants with incredible disposable wealth. So much so they can afford to hire him for his artistry.

He has no idea that he's the worst kind of racist: the unknowing kind. I received text after text blasting Jews and how he had to hold his tongue, proud of his Palestinian heritage.

Until I could take no more of it. Mr. Liberal with the Gays - I'll address this in a moment - wanted to slice and dice Jews.

"Idiot," I wrote him. "Do you realize you're writing this to a Jew?"

He faltered. "Well, you're different."

"Is it because I've no money?"

He ignored my comment. "The other night, I thought if they knew my grandmother was Palestinian, they'd throw me out."

"You're wrong. It's the opposite: your grandmother rues the day she met your grandfather!"

"WHAT?"

"You're totally unacceptable for a Palestinian Muslim woman. How could her grandson be a CATHOLIC with an uncircumcised dick? No 72 virgins in store for you, my friend."

He never wrote a peep since against Jews or his Palestinian grandmother. But then he started proselytizing his opinion about gays and gay marriage. After the umpteenth text/email/conversation, I told him to stop.

"Enough already! I'm beginning to wonder whether you know who I am! Why are you on the soap box to me about gays? We share the same opinion! Unless there's something you want to tell me."

"No, I'm 100% hetero." He looked dismal in my living room, never meeting my eyes.

"So, what's with this obsession about gays and gay rights and gay marriage? Aren't you taking this to an extreme? Is this your way to let me know you're coming out? I won't think any less of you, you know that."

"I'm not into men," he said unconvincingly.

This was at the end of the last visit. I lost interest months' earlier, yet felt entitled to draw out the charade. I don't give a shit what he fucks as long as it ain't me. Besides, he's just way too cool for me.


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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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