the bag lady, and how I lost my virginity

 

I didn’t see Fanny across the hall anymore. I stood outside my door, pretending to be on the phone. I checked my mail half a dozen times a day. I endured endless hours of Salty Hubbard. Nothing.

Then one day I saw her door was open and I looked inside. Her apartment was empty. They were pulling up the carpet and it smelled like fresh paint. That was the end of that, or so I thought.

Did you know that studies by the National Allergy Center show there are literally thousands of different types of creepy little crawlers living the life of Riley down in your carpet? A hundred thousand dust mites alone can live in every square yard. That’s on top of the two-hundred thousand bacteria per square inch. That’s four thousand times more than the average toilet seat.

My head was back to normal, my life was in a shambles again, and after all that I took my usual bath, jumped into bed and pulled the covers up over my head. Not just because I was all depressed, and not because of all the germs. I just wanted to get away from it all.

How long I was under the covers? I wasn’t sure. But one thing I was sure of: I really missed Fanny. And it’s not just that I missed her company. Truth is, you just don’t sit that close to a woman for that long and not get, you know, urges. It’s just not possible. Not for a priest, not for a monk, not even for a germaphobe. For a eunuch, maybe.

The saddest part was, I never planted that kiss. Truth is, it wasn’t just because I knew bacteria like Porphyromonas gingivalis and Streptococcus salivarius actually live in colonies all around your teeth and gums, or because there are more germs in one person’s mouth than there are people on the Earth. No, the awful truth of why I never kissed her was, I was just too scared. There, now you know the truth. I chickened out, plain and simple.

 

In my dreams, I kiss her so passionately, so deeply, when I open my eyes I realize I’ve come out the other side, and have to turn around just to kiss her again.

 

As a result, I couldn’t stop thinking what it would’ve been like to be with her, you know, sexually. And no amount of jerking off can get your mind off the real thing. Believe me, I tried.

I’ve never been with a woman, but of course you know that. Not in my whole life. It takes a real special talent, not getting laid your whole life. I once saw this one-thousand pound guy getting married to this eight-hundred pound chick on TV. Getting married? That means even they were getting it. Somehow. I don’t know how. Maybe if his dick was two feet long to get past all the jelly rolls. I don’t know, but even fat people must have a way of doing it. Hell, even lepers somehow get lucky at some point. But not me.

Truth is, up until meeting Fanny, I’d just as soon licked a dog’s ass than swap spit with a woman. No joke. Did you know there are more than eighty million bacteria in the average sloppy kiss? For real.

But I’d been smitten. I’d got a good whiff of her, and once you get a good whiff of a woman, you’re hooked. Then one day, I had an idea. Maybe I could find Fanny on the Internet.

The Internet. It may be old hat to you, but to me it was still virgin territory. I didn’t even have a computer for the longest time. Why? Besides the fact that the average computer keyboard has more than two-hundred thousand germs; well, I think you can guess the other reason why.

While no one knows exactly how many computer viruses there have been since the advent of the PC, the internet security firm Symantec claims that it has detected well over one million. One million is a lot of anything. It’s even still a lot of money.

I thought I’d never get a computer, that is until my friend Andy Roidenowski told me that using a Mac was safe.

“A Mac is safer even than a condom,” he told me. “You have a better chance of getting AIDS than you do catching a computer virus with a Mac.”

Truth is, I didn’t even know what a computer virus was. I imagined it was something along the lines of the movie Tron.

So, I got on my computer. I had no idea what I’d been missing. Finally, a safe way to get out into the world. It was like traveling around in an astronaut suit.

I wasn’t far into my search for Fanny when I came across something else entirely. It caught my attention immediately, and held onto it like a hideous bitch goddess.

Did you know that the Internet is literally filthy with pornography? I didn’t. I mean, it wasn’t the first time I’d seen pornography. Of course, growing up I’d seen my share of dirty magazines. I even tried VHS tapes and DVDs, but they were usually just people doing it in their own home (and boy, were they ugly), or half-ass porn stars whose fucking was so fake, they were downright bored.

But now, with the Internet, things had improved vastly. Better yet, it was free. FREE. I never got much in to VHS or DVD porn because it was just too damn expensive. Think about it: $99 for a tape or a disk and you’re done in five minutes. That’s a horrible deal. And it makes you feel so guilty after. Not because you’ve just left a load of spooj all over yourself, but because you just wasted a hundred bucks. Even going back and watching it a few times more, it was just too damn expensive.

But internet porn. Wow! I didn’t sleep for a week. It was like discovering ice cream all over again. All you can eat. And why not? It was free. Sure, they wanted you to give them your credit card and they promised to show you more, but why would I want to see more? I had all I could handle and it was free. Free! Nothing is free.

It was like I’d died and gone to horny-toad heaven. I had found paradise. As far as I was concerned, it was even better than the real thing. Of course, I had never had the real thing; but at least this way I knew I couldn’t catch diseases, I couldn’t get anybody pregnant, and afterward, there was no having to talk to anyone.

I was a king. No, I was a god. I could spend all day with just one chick. With one simple touch of a button I could make her do all my favorite things over and over and over again. I got only the best parts, and when I was done I could just turn her off. Unfortunately, it didn’t last.

It didn’t take long until I realized I couldn’t watch the same scene anymore. Then, I couldn’t watch the same girl anymore. Then, I got tired of all the different racial orientations and sexual positions. The whole appeal of the thing just faded away too fast. In a matter of only weeks, I found it had all gone quite stale. My paradise was lost.

In the end, I discovered what every porn addict realizes eventually: there’s just no substitute for the real thing. I wasn’t some computer geek; I’d actually been there, right next to a real woman. Once you’ve been that close, there’s just no going back.

So here’s the deal. I don’t know if you know this, but there’s more than just porn on the Internet. That’s right. You can find real people to hook up with there, too. You know, for sex.

In fact, you can find just about anything on the Internet. Problem is, what you’re looking for may not always be what you get. Case in point: Guy meets hot chick on Craig’s List. Everything’s going great until they get back to her apartment and she asks him to take a shit on her. When he refuses, she asks him if he’ll at least wear a butt plug while they fuck. By this time he’s hard as a rock and there’s no turning back, so he agrees.

So there they are, fucking like Oscar winners. Right when he’s about to cum, she pulls the butt plug out and shit spews everywhere. It goes all over the bed and she’s quick to get underneath. Next thing the guy knows she’s rolling all over the bed as happy as a hog. Do you have any idea how disgusting human shit really is? That poor guy probably had to burn the sheets, even throw the whole bed out. If it was me, I’d just move. I’d leave everything I own and just get the hell out of there.

I wasn’t that worried about shitting all over the place, but I was at the very least, concerned. What if the woman I call turns out to look nothing like her picture? What if she turns out to be old, or fat, or even worse: what if she turns out to be a dude? What if she’s a stalker, or under age? Can you imagine me being labeled a sex offender? Me? I’ve never even had sex before. Believe it or not, it can sometimes wind up a lot worse than that.

On December 24, 2015, Christmas Eve no less, Rollie Johnson was trolling online, looking for love. Nothing fancy, maybe just a one-night stand or two. Rollie liked his girls young, but was careful not to reel in any fish that might land him in hot water. In fact, not only did Rollie insist on seeing ID, he even had a barcode scanner and an ultraviolet light to make sure the driver’s license wasn’t a fake. Rollie was just looking to dip his stick or get his lollipop licked, not wind up on NBC News.

On this particular night in question, Rollie hooked-up online with a girl named Kelli. Kelli, with an i. They arranged to meet, as Rollie always did, in a public place. Not only was meeting in public safer, it allowed him the opportunity to back out if the woman turned out to be a real dog. While Rollie was no Handsome Dan, he wasn’t a Chinese Crested either.

Besides, do you know how many stories there are of men getting mugged, robbed, even murdered while on their way for sex? Check it out sometime; the stories are everywhere.

Like Philman Hartman, who was shot in the chest after being lured to an apartment complex in Houston, Texas, on the pretext of meeting a teen. Hartman met 18-year-old Bittany Shalynn Davis on the dating app Plenty of Fish, only to be ambushed by two men instead. When they discovered he wasn’t carrying any cash, they shot him in the chest and left him for dead. After playing possum for almost an hour, Hartman was taken to the nearest hospital where fortunately he survived his attackers.

In some cases, the acts and assaults are much more lurid. I’m talking about rape, and not the traditional man/woman kind.

That’s right. Harry Headved of Miami, Florida, apparently posed as a teenage girl on the Internet to entice middle-aged men to the park at night, thinking they were going to have sex with underage girls. Not everyone luring pedophiles online is an undercover NBC reporter, but in the case of Harry Headved, these guys sure wished they were.

Whether Harry was working in a vigilante capacity, or just longing for prison, the result was the same. Harry forced these men to their knees while holding a gun to their heads. He then ordered them to do their best impression from the movie Deliverance.

So anyway, there’s Rollie and he’s waiting at this bar for Kelli with an i. If you haven’t figured it out by now, there is no Kelli with an i. Next thing, Rollie’s passed out cold on the bar from all the Roofies the bartender put in his drink. Later that night, and for the next few weeks to come, Rollie’s busy doing his best Gimp impersonation from Pulp Fiction, then tossed out back in the dumpster with his pecker stuffed in his mouth.

Pecker stuffed in his mouth? No, thank you. So I decided instead just to go with a Pro. Sounds easy. It’s not.

For one thing, everything is in code. For instance, do you have any idea what it means when it says Kisses? Like, when the woman says she can be your date for just 600 kisses? 600 kisses? Do you have any idea how many germs that is? It’s a lot. Like, almost a billion.

And if it wasn’t Kisses, it was Roses. 400 roses? Where in the world was I going to get 400 roses? Forget it. Whatever happened to working girls who were just in it for the money?

Why did everything have to be so damn complicated? That’s when I decided to just go old school, like down on the street corner. So TJ gave me the phone number of this lady of the evening he said he swore by. Was I worried about getting some dude instead? Not a chance. Remember, TJ had just one requirement: as long as they have a pussy. That was good enough for me.

So I made an “appointment,” and that very same night this big-assed, big-breasted, purple-haired broad was beating down my door. Before I let her in, I gave myself a few good whacks with Ruby the rubber mallet. I was just now discovering, however, that it was having little to no effect at all. This was a very bad time to find out that I must have acclimated to it by now.

But I had to let her in. She was pounding on the door even harder and my neighbors were bound to start noticing any moment.

I wasn’t ready for this, but there was nothing I could do about it now. By the time I opened the door, she had already pushed her way into my apartment. If I thought being next to a woman was hard enough, it was nothing compared to being face to face with an honest-to-God whore.

She said her name was May B. McGillicuddy, but there was nothing Maybe about her. There was nothing Irish about her, either. She was the kind of woman you could tell spent a lot of time outdoors. The makeup around her eyes was running and it made her look like a raccoon. God, I prayed, please don’t let her give me rabies. I started feeling nauseas.

Did you know that VD is caused by the bacterium Neisseria gonorrhea and can settle in the heart or the spine, causing Endocarditis, sometimes even meningitis? Bacterial vaginosis occurs when the squamous cells of the cervix get covered with the bacterium known as Gardnerella vaginalis. It creates this God-awful fishy smell in the vagina that oozes out in a disgusting yellow slime.

The only way I could keep from running for my life was to get that filthy whore to tie me up on the bed. It took everything I had not to puke my guts out right then and there.

I tried blocking her face out, fantasizing. I asked her if I could call her Fanny.

“For five hundred dollars,” she said, “you can call me Nicki Minaj if that makes you happy.”

I tried it. It didn’t work.

But I was going to get some sex, Goddamnit. I was going to finally get me some, even if it killed me.

It just about did when suddenly I remembered something I saw in this movie, Ken Park. It cost me extra, but I got her to wrap a plastic bag over my head and suffocate me until I was nearly dead. I can’t even begin to tell you how many brain cells that killed. Added bonus!

After that, nothing bothered me anymore. Not even the fact that she had this huge cold sore right there on her lower lip, a clear indication of herpes simplex. Oral herpes, HSV-1, is known to cause Bell’s palsy, a type of facial paralysis; but when I heard it can also lead to Alzheimer’s, that’s when I decided to fuck that bitch half a dozen times more. That, and because it felt good.

The problem was, besides costing me a fortune, it didn’t even work. I still remembered, and I still knew way too much.

Depriving yourself of oxygen time and again is one of the most effective ways there is to kill brain cells. It also makes for amazing sex.

But we never kissed. Ever wonder why hookers won’t let you to kiss them, this even as they’ll let you stick everything in them but the kitchen sink? Even prostitutes know how truly filthy the human mouth really is.

And that’s how I lost my virginity.