The new phenomena amongst present day men is not to be the knight in shining armor, but to be the jokester. The josher. The buffoon. The comedian. Thanks to video games, YouTube videos of crotch shots, and comedy based on crassness, men have reverted back to little boys.
My run in with a funny man was completely unexpected. After a slew of psychotic dates, being approached by someone whose sole purpose in life was to make people laugh, was rather refreshing, or should I say endearing. And not only that, he was successful at it. A well-known comedian, one could even Google his name, find his wiki, see him on local comedy channels, become his YouTube fan, etc, etc. He was, in many critics’ eyes, the new Buster Keaton. Slap that pan to your face, bam bam bam. Hahahaha.
Our first dating dances were filled with an innocent banter of wits, flips in the air, and stories of our disastrous prior dates. His involved going out with a girl only to end up sleeping with twenty Asians on the floor of a downtown massage parlor.
At one point, he teasingly jokes, "...well wait until you come over to my room, you can enjoy my slide."
Now, I must admit, my mind lays in the gutter about 80% of the time. I was the girl in high school who asked her friends, "...so if the world blew up and this was the only room left, which guy would you screw?" and related to people as seeing them in "sexual positions" (e.g. gym teacher totally likes doggy, that cook likes it with latex, and my coworker does it with a hole in the sheet.)
So, when this fool mentioned his "slide," my mind obviously was up to no good. Of course, instead of being coy about it, with an "I want to ride your slide, vroom" sort of comeback, I just laugh nervously, because as dirty as my mind can be, I can sometimes be thrown off by other people's vulgarity. Weird, I know. I think it's because I am really a puritan who just happens to own crotchless panties. No, I kid, those things are worse than thongs.
He, of course, notices my conflicted look between: do I say something funny, flirt, or just go ew. I am literally on overload mental freeze.
In turn, he nervously laughs, "That sometimes throws girls off, but it's true you can see it in my videos, it's attached to my bunk bed, at one point I put a rope swing in my room too. I hope you aren't turned off by that, maybe I should have waited to tell you."
Now at this point, my mind has suddenly compounded in on itself, here I am thinking he is talking about the slide in his pants, and no, in fact, he is talking about a physical slide in his room. And, bunk beds...and a rope swing?
He continues, "I mean do you have a slippy slide in your house?" Obviously, he is grasping for straws at this point, or maybe, he is hoping I am his holy grail. If I say yes, I am sure he will marry me on the spot.
Instead, I laugh, out loud, and hard, with booger bubbles almost surfacing, "No I don’t have a slippy slide in my house!"
I try to understand what it would be like to sleep with this person in their playroom. I mean, after sex, would I take the top bunk and he take the bottom? How many bare asses touched that slide? And would we act out Tarzan and Jane on the rope? (Well, that last one has been a fantasy of mine.)
At my laughter, his demeanor shifts. "Well you obviously are just an adult acting older than they are." Uh oh, tantrums are a surfacing. But yes, he is right, while deciding between day-glo hot pink Barbie bed, and grown up metal-framed bed, I went with the grown up choice. What can I say, my big girl pants were on that day.
He continues to pout at me, "I have no stress, no worries, and everyday is a weekend for me, so I must be doing something right." I mean, he is right, if his day is still filled with the sounds of unicorns laughing, god bless him.
Needless to say, the laughter at the slippy slide, and my adult fascist ways, turned him off, and we parted ways. Me, back to my fancy pants grown up casa, and him, back to his slide.
I will admit part of me did want to ride it. The slide, you perv, the slide.
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