I Can't Believe...

I can’t believe how ignorant men can be. I can’t believe how much insult they’ll tolerate just for the sake of getting their rocks off. I can’t believe what you can say to them and how you can walk away from their hard-ons, and they’ll still come back looking for more. I can’t believe you can tell them, “Look, I’m not in the mood,” but then they’ll try to bump and grind against you anyway. When they rub up against you with their boners, I can’t believe you can ask them, “Just what do you expect me to do with that?” I can’t believe they don’t realize you’re not listening to their answer. I can’t believe you can slap their crotches and spit, “Christ, almighty – are you hard again?!?”

I can’t believe you can take a slug of beer, or Vodka Tonic, or Sex on the Beach, or anything liquid – and spit it into their half-open mouths as they come to kiss you. I can’t believe they don’t understand that spitting into their mouths means you’re not into whatever they’re up to. I can’t believe how men can take anything – literally anything you do – and somehow find a way to get turned on by it.

“Whattya doin’?,” one guy asks me when he calls.

“I’m painting my bathroom,” I say, “and I’m covered in latex splotches.”

“Ohhhhhhhh,” he says, “Sounds hot.”

Hot. Everything’s hot to them. I can’t believe how they can find a way to make everything hot. Everything.

“Ohhhhhhhh,” one guy says to me as I’m giving him the finger and walking into the bathroom, “you’re so hot.” I can’t believe he thinks my giving him the finger while I’m about to take a piss is hot. When I come out, he’s fully hard. He’s jerking off. He says, “You’re so hot.”

“No I’m not,” I say, “I’m an asshole.” And I go to change the music, or to make another drink, or to cut another line, or something…

“No,” he says, “you’re hot.” I’m not even looking at him.

He keeps jerking off. I keep looking the other way. Finally I ask, “You close yet?” (I need to know ‘cuz I need to figure out when I’m gonna walk the dog.)

He asks, “You gonna help me?”

“Not likely,” I tell him. And I change the music, or make another drink, or cut another line, or something… I can’t believe a guy is sitting on my couch and jerking off when I’m not even remotely concerned.

But he’s a man, and I can’t believe how ignorant men can be. He keeps jerkin’ it. He keeps fondling his balls. And even though I’d rather he didn’t, he keeps talking…

“You’re so hot.”

“Can’t you find something else to say?”

“Whattya doin’?”

“I’m (changing the music, making another drink, cutting another line, or something…)”

“You want me to come?”

“I want you to go.”

“You’re so hot.”

“I’m not hot. I’m an asshole.”

“You’re a hot asshole.”

“If it’s that important to you…”

“I’m gonna come…”

“It’s about time…”

“I’m gonna come…”

“You already said that.”

“Christ, you’re hot.”

“Yeah, I’m hot. A hot asshole. You gonna come?”

“I’m gonna come…”

“Thank the Lord.”

“I’m gonna come…”

I can’t believe how many times guys will say the same fucking thing, just because they’re about to come.

“Well hurry up,” I tell him, “and don’t make a mess.” I can’t believe how much of a mess some of these guys can make…

“Uhhhhhhh…..”

It’s always the same thing. It’s always, “Uhhhhhhh…” I can’t believe how boring guys are when they come. It’s like, they’re trying to fill empty space.

And then they shut up. Then, they leave. They wipe off, get up, pull up their pants – and leave. They always leave.

That, I believe.