You Construct Intricate Rituals Which Allow You to Touch The Skin of Other Men
shake his hand. look him in the eye and smile. but don't tell
him you've been moisturizing with Dove peach-mango lotion.
you don't want him to think you're some kind of pussy.
now, reminisce for a while. yeah, you do remember that time
back in high school when you both went to Suzie Summerfield's
pool party and got "drunk as fuuuck!" yeah, that was a good time.
he doesn't need to know that it was the first time you'd ever tasted
a warm rusty beer and you barely managed to choke two of those
motherfuckers down. he doesn't need to know that you never
fucked Cindy Wright and the condom you sheepishly rang up
at the Walgreens self-checkout sat in your wallet until it expired two years
later and you thought no one on this earth had ever been so lonely.
give him that half-hug thing you see all the rappers on television
doing. yeah, you've been working out. lots of heavy weights and motorcycles
and .22 caliber rifles. don't tell him about the salads and aerobics classes.
he says he has been doing well. tell him that you have also been doing well.
but for the love of god don't tell him about last weekend, when you
watched Marley & Me for the first time and bawled your eyes out
in your empty apartment, pleading "no, Owen Wilson, don't let him die!
please don't let him die!" then you drank Mike's Hard Lemonade
until the room started spinning. at 3 a.m. you drunk-dialed your ex
and asked her if she faked all of her orgasms while you were together.
she said she did, so you researched male enhancement pills
until you passed out on your keyboard.
do the secret handshake the two of you made up senior year.
the one with the fist bump-explosion thing, complete with sound effects.
he says he's been "gettin pussy!" yeah, you're just a couple of bachelors
in your mid-twenties fucking bitches and changing tires and wrestling crocodiles.
tell him about the new girl you've been seeing. she's a cute brunette
who teaches the first grade. does she have a nice ass?
hell yeah, bro! it's fat but not too fat. just the right amount of meat.
but leave out the part about her weird fetishes involving whips and handcuffs
and Cheez Whiz. and how you aren't completely comfortable with them
and sometimes you cry after sex and ask her to be the big spoon.
her body is warm against yours, but you can't help feeling you wasted
your childhood making brownies in your sister's Easy Bake Oven.
instead, you should have doused your body in aged whiskey
and played with your father's power tools. you should have learned
how to throw a punch and tie a tie. you shouldn't have cried
when your hamster, Sparkles, choked to death on his own vomit.
you should have been out there with the rest of the boys,
thrusting and grunting and never asking for directions.