Ped Sex-Ing

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ped_xing.gifIt's six in the morning and I'm sitting here at my desk at the front of the Steve's Word office.  This is becoming quite my column modus operandi, I think that's the phrase.  At least I'm not hungover this time and I'm not shaken to my very core.  I'm feeling quite the contrary, to tell the truth, because I got laid last night.  I know, I know.  I didn't think it would happen to me again either, especially after my very explicit previous column.  I guess it's a good thing not everyone reads Steve's Word.  Wait, that can't be right.

Oh man, I feel fantastic; I'm sure you've felt like this once or twice in your life.  And, not to brag or anything, but I thought I might share with you some lessons and revelations that I picked up last night.  Don't worry, it's safe for work.  Unless you don't work at home.  Just kidding.

As you can probably imagine, life hasn't been that easy for me recently.  I've been kicked around at work, my father can't look me in the eye, and my mother has been calling me "that one" for weeks.  Honestly, Thanksgiving is gonna be like a presidential debate this year, with my family acting like McCain and no moderator in sight to help me out.  My current level of melancholy hasn't been this high (or maybe it's low) in a really long time, and last night I left the office in a bit of a self-pitying daze.  It was dark, it was cold, I was listening to some really sad music, and feeling like I was at the end of everything.

I found myself wandering around the Village, and crossing a small street that didn't have a walk/don't walk signal, and suddenly there was this girl on a bike bearing down on me.  My first instinct, even before getting out of the way, was of course to check her out.  She was an absolute goddess, beautiful eyes, great skin, and I was totally transfixed.  I couldn't move.  Literally.  I think she was a little distracted too because she flashed me the briefest of smiles right before she plowed into me and knocked me to the ground.  She hit the deck too, and the pedal of her bike whacked me in the head as it went by.

I think I even passed out for a second or two.  I have a very fragile constitution.

When I regained my grip on reality, the two of us engaged in a very sitcom-y conversation, all apologies and awkward reassurances.  By then, the welt on my head was the size of a tennis ball and my wrist had turned blue, so I decided to walk to St. Vincent's because spending six hours in a hospital waiting room seemed like the only sensible thing to do.  Maybe she too was suffering from some sort of head injury, or maybe I'm just irresistible when I'm bawling like a baby, but she decided to take care of me.  She told me that St. Vincent's would be a waste of time and decided to take me to her apartment, which was nearby.  She iced my head, wrapped up my wrist, and eventually, after a few hours of conversation and some alcohol to ease the pain, we made sweet, sweet love.  Gingerly of course.

crit_mass_bk_bridge.jpgAs I think about this incident, clearly a peak, it seems easy to draw a few lessons from it.  First, obviously the city needs more bike lanes.  I defy you to be able to pull off something like what I did getting hit by a car.  Can't happen.  Breaking your leg kills your mojo and if you don't believe me, I'll tell you about a ski trip I went on in high school some time.  It ended poorly.  So, we need more bikes and there's no two ways about it.  I never thought I would feel this way, considering that, police brutality aside, I've never been a fan of the Critical Mass thing.  Although, now that getting hit by a bike has turned out so well for me, maybe I'll change my mind on that front.

But bigger than all the bike-related revelations that last night provided, I came to understand just how important it is to be in peril for me to get women.  Some guys can pull of the protector thing, and I've learned that I just can't do it.  All my two girlfriends have treated me like the lost puppy that I am inside and I always resented it.  I resented the way they changed my wardrobe and affected my various habits.  But that's the sort of thing that I need to embrace more, and all it took was getting hit by a bike to make me realize the truth.  I'm the guy girls take care of.  I inspire something inside them that makes them want to take me in, to help me, to make sure that I end up OK.  I used to rail against this because it's belittling, and feel free to insert your own joke on 'belittling' at your leisure.  Me, I'm done feeling sorry for myself, because I've finally cracked it open.  I've finally figured out the key to a better, more active sex life.  All it takes is a little sacrifice and a lot of courage.

For the first time in a long time, I feel really good about things.  And I gaze upon this morning's sunrise with the promise of a new day.  As long as I can keep getting run over by cuties on bikes, everything is gonna be alright.

3 Comments

  • 1

    Get some, Nate! I know it's crazy but there are some women out there that have a small penis fetish. If you've read any of Jeff's Command+D's then you know the world is a strange and scary place and anything and everything is fair game as far as arousal goes. Even tincy dingle-dangles.

  • 2

    ya know nat, u are just like my boyfriend. i changed his wardrobe and affected his various habits yet he still fantasizes about banging other chicks. at least he's not alone.

  • 3

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