The Pussy

Mr. Universe

And now I’m shirtless in the park. Trimmed my chest hair this morning. Feel like a naked pink baby. Can’t tell if I look good like this. Sitting Indian style. Folds of fat choked out by my belt. At 9% body fat this still happens. By the time I get rid of my last chub I’ll be so old I’ll just be skin. There’s another shirtless guy and I keep looking over thinking: does he look better than me?

A girl is checking me out. I guess that means I look good. Now I have this flash of fear. A burning house feeling. A girl looked at me; I better do something about it. This is it, Rocky. Your one shot. She looks away, then back. I don’t have the courage to maintain eye contact. I’d like to think it’s because I’m too mature to pick up girls. It’s because I’m chickenshit. So I look up and awkwardly half smile, making clear that I’m a small dicked nebbish whose seed is unworthy of her loins.

Relax. She’s not that hot. She’s not Asian so who gives a shit. Little gut behind black high waisted pants. If she talked to me I’d talk back. But it’s my job as a man to talk first. If it’s gonna work like that, what do I get in return. She ought to to pay me.

She looks again. A giant invisible hand forces my eyes into my phone and mushes my face into a stupid smirk like there’s something amusing on the screen. I know smiling makes my nose looks big. This makes me smile more. I know my teeth are slightly out of whack. Somewhere in my eyes there is probably agony but she’s too far away for that detail. She’s still looking. I’m summoning material in case she talks to me. All those years of words. This is what they’re for.

If she talks to me I’ll have to ask her out. I don’t want to go out with her. I want her to come home with me and have unprotected sex right this minute. That or nothing. What I don’t want is to dance. Be funny. Have to be funny. Beg a merciless God for enough fucking funny to keep pouring out of me for the long hours it will take to get the pussy. Just please don’t let it lapse into that one awkward instant of fucking up that blossoms into a million dickshrinking eternities. If I have to do all the work why can’t shit happen on my terms. Lift weights, good haircut, couple jokes equals pussy. Jesus Christ, what more do you need. You have to be confident too. You have to keep that confidence in a world where you’re a worm.

Someone texted her. A shinier object. I’ve blown it. This is the last time I’ll ever have my shirt off and a woman near me. A comet will wipe out all women on Earth. I’ll be compelled to eat 15,000 burritos and get fat. She leans into the sunlight. She has bad skin. Thank God.