The day ends with the Geeky Guy just getting started

After that one remarkable day at the Epiphany Cafe when the Lisping Barista said yes to the Geeky Guy, things settled down, but nothing was the same. Not every day witnesses such extraordinary events, nor does every day need to. Some days are content to hide in the herd, populate the middle of the bell curve, become part of the furniture, keep their heads down, be average, unassuming, and standard. Not every day is ambitious, striving, or in need of affirmation. Every day is exactly twenty-four hours long and puts its daylight on one minute at a time, like every other day. Not every day is as pretentious as the day that the Lisping Barista said yes to the Geeky Guy and the Geeky Guy almost got laid.

In retrospect, perhaps the most significant thing that happened that day was the one thing that didn’t happen. The Geeky Guy almost had sex with the Lisping Barista. He came pretty close to full engagement, complete penetration, the rounding of all the bases. He hit what might have been an in-field home run and was rounding third, coming in to the plate, and preparing to slide, only to find that the catcher, the ball, both teams, all the umpires, fans, and TV announcers had left the stadium. He was all ready to have sex, but there was no one there with him. Home plate was there. He could’ve crossed the plate, slid right in, and gotten up to round the bases again and again, running up the score; except there was no one to keep score, no one to change the numbers on that big board erected in the outfield, no one to cheer.

The fact that the Geeky Guy came so very close to having full on sex, but didn’t, was the most significant thing that happened that day. It was a thing that never happened that he would never forget. He imagined what it would’ve been like if it had happened. They had come close enough and engaged in sufficient similar activities to give him a taste. His imagination was whetted. He had become a fully qualified, barking, drooling, straining-at-the-leash, wanting-to-go-out-back-in-back-out-and-back-in-again, horn dog, and there was no two ways about it.

The thing is, before this happened, the Geeky Guy had hardly ever thought about sex, or women, or men in that way, either. He was as close as you might come to asexual. Not that he was adverse to the activity. It didn’t turn him off, although the whole thing did seem bizarre and unhygienic. Other people could do it if they wanted and he wouldn’t think any less of them. Oh, he spent some time in the basement with his father’s Playboy magazines, just like any boy, and time cruising the internet, just like any man, but if an ad popped up for travel deals, he’d click on that, too. He did study The Illustrated Encyclopedia of Sex with a certain degree of alacrity, but there was something about learning about sex from a textbook that sapped the magic and urgency out of it. He could take it or leave it, and, considering all the trouble involved, he’d just as soon leave it.

But, then the Therapist Emeritus had to come along and get him to ask women out on dates, just so he could say he did; and then the Lisping Barista had to come along and say yes; and, after a few more yeses, and why-don’t-we’s, he was now a fully sexual, fully functioning, stud who couldn’t wait to get in his girlfriend’s pants.

But, could he call the Lisping Barista his girlfriend?

In one moment, she had gone from saying yes to everything; to saying, what were we talking about? Her pupils had gone from being as big as dinner plates to being as empty as a starving Somalian’s stomach. Something had happened and he didn’t know why. He didn’t even know what had happened. He tried to ask her, all the way home that night, but she wasn’t talking. When he dropped her off, she never even kissed him goodnight.

It was late by then, but the Geeky Guy was just getting started.

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S. Harry Zade

Writing a blog keeps me alive.

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