Never Go On The Make

Why I don't get laid much

Written by REVSCRJ

You know that moment when you meet a woman and you think something like "Damn, I bet she's wild in bed" or something of that nature? In that moment you make a decision: am I going to try and get inside her OR am I going to try to see who and what she is? The decision is important because it determines your entire mode of approach to the woman, it shouldn't, but it does. Every time in my life that I have chosen to simply try and get sex from the woman it has gone HIDEOUS. I don?t mean standard rejection, or wasted time hideous, but funny universe-laughing-at-me hideous.

Ok, here is an example:

I was working at Kinkos copies, suffering the corporate inhuman sterile hell by stealing a lot and teaching myself how to use computers on their time -- almost a fair trade. All of a sudden, in walks this jaw dropping woman dressed in a short floral skirt and baggy white cotton shirt that was close enough to translucent to make me sweat. She was wearing knee high boots and goddamn if that doesn?t arouse me. I have no idea why, really, "boots" -- what the hell is sexy about boots? "Everything" apparently, because I actually felt my knees tremble. She walked up to me smiling and right there I decided that I REALLY wanted this woman. I didn?t care who she was, what she believed, whether she was good bad or indifferent -- I wanted to fuck her.

"Hi, welcome to Kinkos, what can I do for you?"

She wanted help designing a resume so of course I became a sudden expert on the subject -- having never actually made one -- and proceeded to explain why this lay-up was better than that one or why this paper would elicit a better response that that one. It was all just basic bullshit backed up only by the fact that I do have artistic sense for composition. She rubbed up against me. I felt my insides jelly and quiver like a jello mold. We talked about Big Sur, a stretch of nature that I have spent years in. She tells me:

"Oh, I have family that live in Big Sur, but I?ve never hiked there at all."

"WHAT! Jennifer, Jennifer, Jennifer, THAT is SACRILEGIOUS! There is glory at your fingertips and your looking at your knees!" [er... sorry that would be me]

"Look, if you want I could show you some spots there that would make you smile in places you didn?t know you possessed."

Despite the sleaziness of that, she gives me a cooing "maybe" and goes off to the DTP section of the store to tell the computer folk what to lay up for her. Suddenly streams of the faceless pour into the store and when I take notice she is gone. Alas.

When I get back from my lunch break, a co-worker hands me her number and starts making a little "Sean's gonna get laid" song.

Jumping ahead. She picked me up, as I have only once or twice in my life had the want and capital to own a vehicle, and we are driving down the coast on a fairly blustery day. I ask her if she hikes much to get a gauge on what kind of terrain I should take her to. She says "all the time" so I figure a little ocean side bouldering might lead us to a picturesque beach on which to...

"Where should I pull over?"

"Oh any of these pull outs have trails that lead down to magnificence."

She proceeds to drive another 45 minutes into an area I had never been to. We hit a trail down to the rocks. Real quick: I cannot do the splendour of these high cliff lichen crusted coastal glories justice, they are alive to me and truly the only place that I can feel utterly human without a sense of disgust at that.

The tide is high, the waves are enormous and there is no beach. "Cool" I think "we'll just traverse the cliff-side."

As it turns out when she said that she hikes a lot she meant she walks on paved trails pretty often because as we start free climbing this cliff-side she is moving slow and with obvious fear. I try to be all manly and aid her by bracing her body, or guiding a foot -- pointing out handholds, etc. The effect is that she is impressed by my abilities, so I figure its all going as planned until...

We are crossing a cave mouth that drops below the wave-line so it requires a little speed to race in-between waves. I drop down, run, jump up on to the rock wall on the other side, no problem. I look out to sea and see this massive wave coming in and turn around to tell her but she has already jumped down and is slowly tight-wire-walk walking toward me. The wave hits her up to her belly WHAM! Water shoots up over her head from the impact.

As horrible as it is my first thought was "Well, that just killed any chance of sex" BEFORE "Oh fuck is she okay!?"

We would?ve turned back there if not for the fact that a) she was trying to impress me with her non-existent hiking skills and b) the way we had come was now being far too regularly pummelled by waves to return by. We pressed on.

It got worse. She froze up on a cliff-side yelling that she was going to fall so I had to go beneath her and have her stand on my shoulders while I climbed and she just stood, palms on the wall- I was so low that I was getting beat by waves that were trying to pull me out- I was terrified and thought we were both going to drown here. I still have some scars on my palms from holding on to barnacles while a huge wave hit me knocking out my feet. In order to not drop her into the surf I supported us with just my hands- the barnacles sunk into my palms, getting a taste of Human flesh.

Later, sitting on a cliff top in uncomfortable silence freezing, I asked her what time it was -- because it was time to end this ridiculousness -- and she pulls this little machine out of her coat that looks like a Palm Pilot. I notice that there is a tube that runs out of it that goes into her coat. Before I can even guess what it is she says "OH MY GOD- I haven?t been getting my insulin! FUCK FUCK OH GOD- I gotta get home NOW!"

Apparently when the first wave hit her, it shorted the machine. Her life really was in danger that whole time. We literally run up the path to the road back to the car. She takes off and I hitch-hike home. About an hour into hitch-hiking it starts to rain and I start to laugh. The whole thing becomes a divine comedy, from bloody palms to potential diabetic death, and from that I whether the weather truly amused until a guy lets me sit in the back of his pickup for a ride back into Monterey.

EVERYTIME I go "on the make" something like this happens. Its a curse, yes, but it IS FUNNY which I am thankful for- as most curses aren?t- and due to it my life has been made a degree more entertaining.

Obviously I don?t get laid much

Metadata: