What? Me? No, I’ve never done these things, no way. I’ve never been neurotic about my hair, getting gray hair or having bad hair or anything about my hair. With me and hair, it’s always been copacetic.
At my first job out of college, I never laid down on the floor of a house (which was filled with juvenile delinquent high school girls) because the woman I was in love with (who was downstairs babysitting said juvenile delinquent girls) would not come and talk with me. That just never happened.
My alien shaped oblong head has long been a source of pride and I was never called E.T. in elementary school, even though that movie came out the exact right time in grade school when grade school kids were starting to notice physical abnormalities in their classmates. No, me and my head are just fine.
When Myspace was a popular website, I never talked with a woman I met from there for several hours a day (over a month) nor did I fly to Alabama to see a woman I met from Myspace. I most certainly didn’t fly to Alabama a second time to hand deliver a letter to a woman I met from Myspace, expressing to her that I believed the creator of the entire universe had plans for us to be together, forever. What kind of guy do you think I am?
And, no way, I didn’t spend years of my life listening to and reviewing musical albums just to continue receiving more free albums. That’s ludicrous.
Absolutely, no, I never a wrote a short story based around my time with a woman I met through an online dating website, then posted said story to my website, then sent that story to the same woman who then told me she was going to delete her profile (or deactivate it, whatever it is people do when they’re gone for a less than a week). Jesus, no, I didn’t then send her a Valentine’s Day message so she couldn’t have sent me a text telling me to delete her number and never contact her again. That just couldn’t have happened.
Of course the first time I got drunk was before I was 18 and when it did happen I didn’t end up in the bed of a woman who was known as the easy girl in my dorm and I certainly didn’t pray to God (then become a Christian for several years) so that He would help me out of the grasp she had on my penis at the time. And, no, I didn’t tell her, out of the clear blue then, that I had to get up in the morning. The next day was Saturday and I would have been a freshman in college and what do college freshman have to do on Saturday mornings? Let’s not be dumb.
And, no, when I had a job waxing yachts in Seattle, I didn’t fall into Lake Washington because I was walking backwards and simultaneously waving goodbye to my coworker, who was still working on a boat. If that would have happened, my coworker would have probably been laughing so hard that he would’ve had a hard time pulling me out the water, which, at the time, would have been cold enough to make me fear for my life.
Lastly, when I was in junior high, I never went over to my friend Nathan’s, which was across the street from dad’s work (where I was supposed to be mowing), for the strict purpose of sneaking into Nathan’s basement room to find his stack of Playboys just so I could masturbate to them. And if I had done that, I certainly would have used a towel or a tissue, or, Jesus, something, and not just spilled it on his carpet and pulled up my pants. I would have had a bit more courtesy than that.
And even if had done all that, I wouldn’t be saying it now for everyone to read. I’d have a bit more sense than that.
Photo by thisreidwrites