Three Fingers In

R.B. Winters
R.B. Winters
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My wife came to town. That’s right, my wife. We had limited fun considering I had the flu the entire time, but havoc was wreaked none-the-less.
There were two notable nights that Ray Ray and I shared. The first is the night we went to Metropolitan in Brooklyn. I love my dive bars, but I hate when other people love them as well. It was packed by the time we had our second drinks finished. Trying to escape the growing crowd we moved to the patio so Ray Ray could smoke and I could stretch. That’s when our new friend Jeff approached. 
Mr. Jeff wanted to ask our opinion on a guy opposite us. Apparently the two had gone on a date and now the dude was ignoring him. He didn’t immediately mention the date was months earlier and that by date he really meant they had bad sex and went their separate ways. *Please note: at this point I was fairly intoxicated. I commented that the guy was balding, boring, and obviously going home with the chocolate daddy he was talking to. That’s when Mr. Jeff tried to get me to play wingman for him. Now, that’s a rarity on my part, and I’ll only do it for my straight friends.
Mr. Jeff pointed out this guy and that guy and finally I was forced to inform him that I don’t pursue guys, they pursue me. That’s when he informed me that I was kind of a little bitch. DING! DING! DING! That’s about the understatement of a lifetime, but it’s the truth. I felt compelled to share my drunken philosophy with our new friend. Guys like bitches. They like big ones, little ones, even slightly retarded ones. They just do, it’s a fact. Think of all the people you’ve dated, or even just been slightly attracted to, I be you can count a bunch of bitches in there.
We left the bar, but the best was yet to come. Ray Ray and I were forced to sleep on a twin blow-up mattress due to the fact that my apartment had been infested with bed bugs and I had thrown all of my bedding out. We lay there giggling like schoolgirls and talking about Ray Ray’s sexual escapades in Utah when she let me in on a secret. I literally almost peed my pants laughing when she told me. The new guy she had been “dating” was a butt man, this I was well aware of. The thing I wasn’t aware of was the fact that he was also a fan of the digitizing his tender emotions. This guy was not so much into sexing the butt as he was into fingering it. Not one, not two, but three fingers! Please, take a moment to look at your hand. Even if you have slender fingers that’s a lot for one ass to take, unless you’re a skanky whore that can’t keep your pants on and your posture upright, but I’ll leave Newbie out of this. This was the cherry on our first night.
Night number two: We started at The Chelsea Hotel so Ray Ray could see where Sid Vicious accidently stabbed his girlfriend Nancy in the late 70’s. No one told me anything about the bar there that night. We walked in and boy were we surprised when it was gangsta chocolate fest ’09. One beer and we were out the door. We traipsed over to my favorite old man gay bar and started depleting their supply of liquor. There is a good reason I stick to drinking beer. You see, when I drink liquor I do stupid things.
Beginning the blood bath of drunken texting I started in on Candy Mountain. I had been irritated I hadn’t heard from him since the last time we fooled around. I’m a lady bitch, you text me the next day! He apologized and I was off to my next victim. I sent a text to my first real boyfriend Jerome. We’ve been broken up going on four years, and apparently tonight was the night I chose to confess my unwavering love for him. I didn’t stop there. I also told him that I had been waiting all of this time for him, and that I was going to keep waiting. If he were a gentleman he would have ignored me, but instead called the next day to talk about it. Simple fact: Yes, though it makes me a loser, what I said was true. Sad truth: Never gonna happen.
Even after that, I still wasn’t done. Then I started in on Newbie. Mostly I was just giving him shit, but I did add that I wanted to see him. Which is partially true. I mean, he’s a nice guy, a liar when it comes to stupid shit, but a nice guy. I have a feeling the last of my text victims will be the one to come around and bite me in the ass, well poke to be more exact, but we’ll see.
Now, my wife is gone and I’m left to tend to myself. I’ve been good thus far to keep out of trouble, even after a night out with PETA and another with The Animator. Though the night I went out with PETA I was re-introduced to a guy I met last summer. All I can say is he has the worst breath, how does his boyfriend overlook that? I mean, cute face, god-awful breath. To PETA’s credit it was a super fun and very needed night, of which more are sure to come.