Once you go black…

I won’t lie that I am more than a bit sheltered.  I have never done anything sexually with someone of a different race.  I’m not opposed to it, but if I had my choice I’d like to start out with something small like an asian or latino and work my way up.

Last night I received the grand daddy of all offers.  When HOTTIE stood us up because he had a test today (BUH!) I went out prowling for someone who will act interested.  And I found him:

I wish it was really Drake, but it’s as close as I’ll ever come and he really does look like him, lucky me.  I have met this guy, I’ll call him Drake 2.0, a few times before. Once at a party where I had my hair in buns on the side of my head like princess Leia during my star wars phase.

The second time was at a pizza establishment at 4am where I offered him a slice of my pie, no pun intended.  I *think* he accepted the offer, but he reminded me that this happened during the time period when I was accident prone, to myself.  I had casts on 4 out of 5 fingers on my left hand and my entire arm wrapped in a weird arthritis type cast.  I know you’re all wondering what happened, as was he, I told him I got my arm caught under a lawn mower.  But here’s the real story:

I had just found out about Bi-Polar ex and the fat troll make out a few days prior, so I drank to forget my name.  The night started with beer pong with my besties, rollerblading alone around my apartment complex while double-fisting bud lights.  At some point the night took a turn for the worse and my “friends” let me go to the bars.  Alone.  The pictures from that night told me that I found some of my neighbors and went back to their place to play beer pong.  Something bad happened and I found myself in a pile of broken glass on my bedroom floor and my left appendage gushing blood.  I crept into Gigi’s room and she claims I had a towel wrapped around my arm with saran wrap around the towel, how I managed that one handed is beyond me but it’s pretty damn impressive. Gigi left her boyfriend to take me to the hospital, where our hilarious and inappropriate hawaiian friend Lara joined.  I ended up with 30 some stitches, a re-fillable prescription of vicodin, 5 awkward casts, and 25 pictures of my friends hanging out in the hospital ER at 4am.

Anywho, it’s embarrassing to tell people that I’m such a lush that I honestly don’t know what happened.  I know it was from a vase and I assume it fell off my wall and broke and I was drunkenly trying to clean it up in order to avoid exactly what happened, but much like the number of licks it takes to get to the center of a tootsie pop, the world may never know.  So I would just make up whatever came to mind when people asked what happened.  It was usually the lawn mower story, or that I got my arm caught in the bus and then it drove off.

Back to the black dong, Drake 2.0 jokes around about having a one night stand which I joke back and say oh yeah your bed or mine? Like a whore.  I know.  Christ.  When he started to talk seriously about it and I was just drunk enough to not have a repeat of the elevator incident, I decided it was time to go so I made up an excuse and left my tab open for all my slumlord friends to nickel and dime my bank account to death, but not before I gave him my number.  He texted me all day and all night about hanging out tonight.  I agreed but as the day wore on I started to get nervous, black men notoriously have big penises.  Not that I was going to run out and sleep with him but I have a week and a half left in this city so I’m not reaaally looking to start conquering my next great love.

But I am scared, no terrified, to let a black man’s penis near my V.  More terrified than I am to become the creepy cat lady, which is an idea I’m starting to warm up to as I get closer and closer to 26 and the end of my fertile life as we know it. I am a small girl and I am nervous it will turn out like Mr. Hands. I’m only 25, I can’t die. If you’ve never seen or heard of Mr. Hands I suggest you keep it that way, trust me you do NOT want to know.  The story and images will sear into your brain and give you and your children nightmares for the rest of your life.  Gigi showed me the actual video without giving me fair warning of what it was and I no joke barfed my dinner up. Ok, so it’s a guy having sex with a horse.  Actually the horse is having sex with him, in the butt, and he dies after it.  The most disgusting thing I’ve ever seen.  And if you google it, kill yourself because you’re SICK and don’t deserve to live.  That’s what I should’ve told Gigi after she watched it a second time.

So I texted Drake 2.0 a few hours before we were supposed to meet up and asked for a raincheck.  He’s flying out to L.A. for a job interview tomorrow (probably an interview to be famous, I’m a moron) and doesn’t know when he’ll be back.  Looks like I missed my chance at going black and never going back, I think I’m ok with it though.  He was asking Gigi about my ex bidness and I don’t want none that drama.  I’ll just keep it as a coulda, woulda, shoulda situation. Shoulda. Damnit.

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