I’m on a mission.
Six months of celibacy. Clear all the crap out of my head from my previous relationship and get some perspective.
Luckily, a guy I dated last year called me a few weeks ago after 1 year of radio silence. We have a mutual non-interest in each other, therefore it’s the perfect situation to achieve my mission of celibacy. I call him Ventura Dude (VD for short).
This week Ventura Dude invited me to his parents’ place in the Ventura Keys to SUP board.
After I reached his parents’ street, I put my phone aside and began searching house numbers. When I arrived at 3864, I parked on the street and did as Ventura dude said:
“Go into the gate and it will be open. Just come around the side of the house, you’ll find us in the back.”
I walked to the gate, reached over and opened the latch.
“Hello?” I called, stepping across the threshold and closing the gate.
Two little yap yap dogs ran around the corner of the house from the backyard and began barking furiously at me. I tried not to show my fright (and also slight irritation)–damn that Ventura Dude, he said nothing about ankle biters.
I looked around the side of the house for a path out back, but there were kayaks blocking the walkway. I went to the front door, dogs nipping and barking, and I pressed the doorbell.
“Hello…?” I called, my voice beginning to crack as I sensed that the little butt holes at my feet were ready to break some skin.
The doorbell rang. I couldn’t see inside because the front door was solid and the windows were curtained. Venura Dude’s ‘rents were a bunch of recluses, I guess.
I tried knocking with a heavy fist and then waited, smiling at the peephole.
When no one answered, I dropped the smile and tried to be nice to the cute four-legged furballs who wouldn’t shut the fuck up.
I went back out the gate, then around to the other side of the house where I found another gate.
Maybe he meant this one?
I pushed the gate open about half a foot before it slammed into an old lawn mower. Beyond the lawn mower I was able to spy some shrubs and an overgrown path that was impossible to walk through.
“What the hell?” I asked myself, wondering what kind of freak Ventura Dude was, and who the hell his parents were to think a person could come through either of these passages.
I latched the gate again, looking down at my toes to make sure they didn’t catch at the bottom of the fence. When I looked down, I saw that the cement was marked with tiny hand prints and several names.
As I read the names, I noticed that Ventura Dude’s name was not among the little imprints. Then, I read: The &&&& Family. Wait a second… Ventura Dude’s last name wasn’t &&&&.
My phone rang. It was VD himself.
“Where are you?” he asked.
“I’m at 3864,” I replied. “Thanks for warning me about the GD dogs.”
“Okay,” He said, “Now come down a few more houses to 5864.”
My bad.
When I arrived at his parents house, a much nicer two-story Spanish style home with a manicured walkway and full access to the back deck, VD introduced me to his mother and her friends.
After a short talk with the ladies, VD and I walked down the ramp to the dock where our boards were waiting.
He helped me aboard my board, and after we knocked those puppies into gear, we started talking. Well, I mostly listened to him talk about his current (lack of) relationship status, and I tried to give him advice when dealin’ with… the ladies…
I was amazed that, after only a few minutes, I was no longer shaking and struggling. I was paddling like a pro, like those old guys you see in summer when the sea is as calm as land. Someday, I want to be one of those old guys–minus the hairy droopers, of course– with no purpose, but to find some sort of inner peace and relaxation on my board.
It’s amazing how quickly we adapt to adversity isn’t it? Yes, that had double meaning.
Six months of celibacy? Pfft. I can do this.
Peace of cock.
Cake, I mean!
Published by permission. Visit Mari's blog at http://www.mari-go-round.com/
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