Hair

“Hey, Tommy, there’s a girl giving blow jobs under the bleachers… you want one?” Joe asked as we stood in our high school parking lot.  His friends hovered behind him, shoving their fists into their mouths and elbowing each other waiting for my response.  Joe was one of my many childhood bullies, and based upon their reactions I knew he was up to no good.

Not to mention that I was fourteen years old and I still had no idea what a blow job was.  I did know that it sounded like something I’d seen on the board at the barbershop: “Wash cut and blow job.”  I scratched my head, trying to figure this out.  So… was Joe saying there was a girl under the bleachers with a hair dryer?  Where did she have it plugged in?  And why was he asking me this?  Why did his friends think this was so funny?  Did my hair look wet? Was somebody sneaking up behind me to dump a pail of water on my head?

I decided to bow out gracefully:  “No thanks,” I told him.  “I’ll just get one the next time I get a haircut.”

There was a riotous explosion of laughter.  “HOLY SHIT, DID YOU HEAR WHAT HE JUST SAID!?”  Joe yelled.  Some of his friends were literally rolling on the ground, unable to contain their mirth.  Confused, I turned and walked away, doing my best to ignore the words they were calling me.

I was pretty upset when I got home, and when my mother saw me she asked what had happened.  “This guy at school told me there was a girl giving blow jobs under the bleachers and asked if I wanted one, and I didn’t know what to say!”  I shared this story with her hoping she’d pick up the hint and dispel my confusion as to what a “blow job” was without me having to ask.  No such luck.  Her response, though?

“You should have asked them, ‘how much?'” she said.

Now I was really confused.   But that was the reality of school life for me.  On a daily basis the guys would approach me with a new question:

“Hey Tommy, do you like Korn?”

“Yeah, it’s okay.  We have corn every night for dinner.”

“HOLY SHIT, THIS KID IS A RETARD.  YO, GUYS, COME OVER HERE, YOU GOTTA HEAR THIS!  Tommy, say it again.  Tell them what you just told me.”

Everybody in school called me a retard for the rest of the day.  Or they asked me if I wanted some corn. Or they asked me if my family was poor and whether corn was all we could afford to eat.

Next day:

“Hey Tommy, are you a fudgepacker?”

“What’s a fudgepacker?

“It means you eat a lot of candy.”

I didn’t eat a lot of candy – or any candy at all – but I didn’t want them to think I was even more of a weirdo.  I was desperately  trying to fit in, so I told them, “Yeah, I’m a fudgepacker…”

“HOLY SHIT, DID YOU HEAR WHAT THIS KID JUST SAID!?  HE’S A FAGGOT!  YO – Chris!  Nick!  Joe!  Get over here, you gotta hear what this kid said, he likes to take it up the ass!  He’s fucking gay, I knew it!”

Everybody in school called me a fag for the rest of the day.  Then again, they called me a fag every single day, so that wasn’t exactly anything new.  But this time they peppered me with extras:

“So what does penis taste like?”

“I know this guy in my third period class you’ll like.  He’s a faggot too.  You can fuck each other in the ass in the locker rooms.  I’ll stand guard outside the door so nobody bothers you two.  Would you like that?”

“No wonder you don’t have a girlfriend.”

“When did you take it up the ass for the first time?”

“Are you really a fudgepacker?”

“Yo, we were talking about AIDS in health class today, and I thought of you.”

“You know everybody knows you’re queer now… right?”

“You’re so skinny you probably weren’t in the closet all this time, you probably hid where your mom keeps the ironing board instead.”

“Joe told me your barber blows you.  Is that true?”

When I went to my last period class there was a pile of pencils on my desk:  “Hey Tommy, me and some of the other guys took up a collection for you.  We thought you could use these because you’re so tiny that your ass probably couldn’t take a real dick…”  (In case you missed it, I was a skinny little nothing back then.)

Multiply that by twelve years and you get the idea…

***

I went for a haircut today to ensure that I looked fresh for the holidays and my fast-approaching birthday.  I love getting a haircut – I always feel fresh and sexy afterwards.  Anyway.  I decided to pamper myself this time.  For an additional cost, my haircut also included a hot towel face and scalp massage, and then an upper back and shoulder massage.  Well worth the extra money.  And I specifically went to this place because it’s men-only clientele, and the staff are all very lovely young ladies.  They are very nice and friendly and talkative, but then again I’m sure they’re paid to be.

I got Kaitlyn. Very pretty blonde with a very nice ass.   And normally I hate it when girls wear perfume (because they usually overdo it with shit that’s WAY too strong), but whatever she had on was very light and pleasant. and as she worked I closed my eyes and inhaled her intoxicating scent.  Thankfully I was sitting down, because I was getting weak-kneed every time she ran her fingers through my hair.  I silently mused about how nice it would be to have someone run her fingers on my hair on a regular basis.  I’m actually considering going back there for my next hair cut just so I can experience the pleasure again, even though I never go to the same place twice.

Damn, I need to get laid.

We talked the entire time, exchanging chit-chat and pleasant conversation.  I like to think she was so taken with me that that’s why she forgot to dry my hair.  So when we came to the end and she asked if I’d like anything else, I said, “Yeah, can you give me a blow job?”

Whoops.  My eyes bulged and I gaped at her, horror-struck.  I covered my face with my hands and started laughing.  “I’m sorry!  Oh God… I meant can you blow dry my hair!” I babbled, pointing at my wet head.  Fortunately she took it in stride and laughed too, as she realized she had forgotten all about that step.  But I couldn’t recover from my embarrassment.

When we were finally finished I followed her up to the register, enjoying the view as she walked in front of me.  After I paid she handed me a business card, and for one wild second I thought she was giving me her number.  My heart hammered in my chest as I took it from her.  Was she actually thinking of…?  No.  It was just one of those get-five-cuts-get-the-sixth-one-free punch cards.  Oh well.

I really need to get laid though.

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33 Comments

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33 responses to “Hair

  1. Love this post! Made me remember how totally clueless and dorky I was when I was younger.

    By the way, why didn’t you ask Kaitlyn out since you seemed quite taken by her? Maybe your “blow job” comment will will be a conversation starter 🙂

  2. blurkel

    I remember going through similar experiences after moving to a new neighborhood. The new kid always has to be tested to see how he’s going to fit into the hierarchy. After a few embarassments, I stop responding to such leading questions. Needless to say, I ended up not having many friends. I wouldn’t play the game, so I became fair game.

    In the long run, I have come to believe that some of us aren’t meant to be the life of the party, or to be the center of social activity. We live outside the fringe, and those we encounter there tend to be more like us than not. None of us find satisfaction in what passes for society, so we leave and join our own. This doesn’t mean we necessarily find happiness, but we avoid a lot of pain. That is a good thing, for no good comes from going through this kind of pain.

  3. Lon Spector

    My child, you must NOT flinch from the pain. Self protection will
    NOT help. The “self” IS the cause of ALL you’re problems. You try
    to “protect” what’s not there to begin with. It is an illusion. A false
    premise.
    Here is the answer:

    1) Reckognise that is not the “affront,” but your REACTION to the
    affront. If the REACTION is in YOU, it is strickly your INTERPUTATION
    of the “offence.” Another person in a simular situation would react
    differently.

    2) See that the negative response harms YOU. As ANY negative
    response harms the person having it. Seeing the utter worthlessness
    of negativity will shorten it’s affect on you, because no one
    KNOWLINGLY harms themselves. They retain their composure, because
    it is their composure to contain.

    3) Don’t waste energy forcing yourself to “hold it together.” You
    CAN cry if you must. But TRUELY knowing that the negative reaction
    is self harming and useless will shorten it’s life.

    4) RE: Not getting girl’s: “It’s your REACTION to not getting girl’s
    not the fact that you can’t get girls.

  4. You are such a great writer!! You have a great personality, how is it that you’re not taken??

  5. This makes me sad for you. I’m sorry.

  6. Oh god, high school! I was picked on relentlessly in year 9 and 10, I guess they grew bored of making me cry by the time we got to year 11 though. Fucking awful.

    Oh I did laugh when I read about you asking the lady for a blow-job though!

    • Me too. Year 8-11. Relentless bitchiness from the ‘popular girls’ who could never pinpoint what exactly their problem with me was, so adopted the scattergun approach of just anything and everything I did/didn’t do. So tedious. It was an immense relief when secondary school ended and sixth form began. It felt like natural selection!

  7. I’m not sure how I found your blog, but I’m glad I did. I must have hit a link somewhere and found myself trapped. I started at the beginning a few days ago and I’ve been slogging my way through it all. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve been rooting for you, but part of me didn’t want your sad lonely quest to end too soon.

    There’s a common theme that pops up all the time and you mentioned it in your reply to manangbok. I’m going to take some heat for this, but you can’t let the idea that a woman/girl has a boyfriend stop you. They ALL have boyfriends. Most of the time they had boyfriends when they met their current boyfriend. It’s for them to decide if they want to see you not you.

    Good luck!

    • Well hopefully you weren’t the one who found my blog via the “unfortunate sexual night with my papa” search term.

      I dunno, it’s just that they really do all seem to have boyfriends. And the ones that don’t, aren’t interested. I can’t really hit on someone who’s already taken, can I?

      • No, that wasn’t me, but I wish it was. Maybe I should start entering random words into internet searches and see what else turns up.

        As for hitting on someone who is taken, why not? Given my history of infidelity I strongly recommend against getting involved with a married woman, but who cares if some girl has a bf. Lots of people are with partners they don’t particularly like or have much of a connection to. That girl you’re attracted to may be with an abusive guy, someone who neglects her, or doesn’t like sex. You may be just what she’s looking for. How do you know without talking to her?

        You seem like a nice guy who is genuinely empathetic towards women, but you have to be a little selfish in your dealings with the opposite sex. Check out the blogs of the ladies who comment here. Ultimately its about them and what they want. The feelings of the men they sleep with rarely comes up in their writing. I’m sure they care, but it’s not a priority. I’m not saying you should become an asshole but you have needs too and to have them met is going to require some self centered thinking.

        I didn’t intend to give advice since you get a lot of it already, but I did anyway. I’m rooting for you.

        • “As for hitting on someone who is taken, why not?” Because it was always a waste of time for me. Like the secretary in my office, who had a boyfriend but I hit on her anyway. Five years later and she’s still with the same guy. Like one of my friend’s sisters, who had a boyfriend but I hit on her anyway. Now she’s married to the guy – high school sweethearts. Like that girl who joined our dance group, who had a boyfriend but I hit on her anyway. Four years later and she’s married to the guy and popped out a kid. The list goes on and on, believe me. It’s like they say, go hunting where the ducks are. No sense in going around shooting dead ducks.

          • My point was, you seem to care a little too much about their feelings and not enough about yours.

            I agree always hitting on women who are committed long term relationships isn’t the best recipe for success, but don’t assume they all have boyfriends or they’re happy with the current one. You’ve given me some examples of where it didn’t work out for you. It makes you sound defeated.

            • lol well yeah it didn’t work out because they had boyfriends. I just never had anyone suggest talking to girls regardless of whether they had boyfriends or not. Dunno, maybe you’re right and I shouldn’t worry about that.

  8. eoylus

    At least she took the blow job pick up line well, even after you caught yourself and at the time you didn’t really know what blow job actually meant. When I was younger, I assumed the word trophy wife assumed a woman who would make a really hot and friendly wife, not knowing what it actually meant through a Facebook app and sent “would most likely be a trophy wife” nominations to attractive women on my friend’s list, lol.

  9. Hehehe. I’m too exhausted to think up an intelligent comment, but know that this made me laugh. Poor UVM.

  10. xanaxic

    I was picked on relentlessly in high school until senior year, when the dumb bitches realized they needed to pass classes to graduate and I was smarter than all of them. Then it was be nice to X. I was picked on because boys liked me, I guess. Ridiculous.
    As an aside, I was just telling my sister that if I had it all to do again, I would have had way more sex in high school. When you become an adult, it hardly matters. You might as well practice, practice, practice.
    Oh, about your post… I wish Kaitlyn would have given you an actual blow job. I mean, you were perfectly blunt about it. I actually wish I had someone here to blow right now. Damn my oral fixation.
    x

    • I actually made this comment to someone else just recently, and that is… I went to high school. I went away to college. How the hell did I miss out on all the sex? Although, there are a couple of reasons I think I can come up with. Actually going to be the subject of my next blog post.

      Where’s The Christian? I’m sure he wouldn’t mind one.

      • xanaxic

        Actually, he is not a big fan of blow jobs. Though, he knows I like them so he is trying to like them. He likes the sensation but he has a really big penis so I can’t get all of it so it is kinda like a hand job slash bj. lol. I try really hard. I should get points for loving it, at least. 🙂 I don’t know that he will ever cum from a blow job. The only way he has cum in my mouth is when I beg him to after he’s inside me. 🙂

        I realize high school is such an awful place. Still, I do sometimes wish I had it to do over again. I would change SO much about it. Maybe I should write about THAT. We should do a blog challenge or something.

        x

        • A guy who’s not a big fan of blow jobs? Never heard of such a thing.

          • xanaxic

            My ex NEVER wanted them. Ever. He refused to let me. He did not think it was appropriate. I know I am super good at it because I have heard more than once “that is the best ever” or “no one has made me cum from a bj until now” or some other bullshit (mostly lies, but I don’t care). Anyway, some guys don’t like it. Weird and nuts. But, that’s fine. I will just sit here sucking on my tootsie roll pop.
            x

  11. Pingback: Touch | The Unfortunate Virgin Male

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