Thursday, May 05, 2005

XXX Porno Slut Boy Toy 4U

The promise of sampling the new oatmeal I bought last night is the sole reason I'm at work. The fact that my desire to face the day relies on hot instant cereal is a fact I'm choosing to ignore for the time being, or at least interpret as a delightful, childlike enjoyment of life's simplest gifts.

It's Thursday and I'm still not quite over wanting to fake sick for a day. Every morning this week as my alarm sounds its final warning call I've thought, "Hey, you've got sick days left. Stay home. At home, there's leftover pizza and The Ellen Show. At work, there's a folder full of pictures of diseased feet for you log. Call in sick."

Once you're awake at five o'clock in the morning, though, it's hard to justify not rolling over, not pulling on some pants, not slapping on your sunglasses and heading to the train station. I did. And, true to the rewards laid out in the old addage, this early bird caught the worm. [If "caught the worm" is interpreted as "secured the best available open seat on the entire train because it was next to an incapacitatingly cute boy, asleep, with his head against the window."]

Thank God the boy was asleep, because if he had been conscious he may have been less than wowed with the way I shoved a business man out of the way in order to claim the seat. It's rare that I see another pesky whippersnapper on the 6:46 a.m. express; I was not about to let an elderly financier thwart my divine right. The natural order dictates that I belong next to all handsome gentlemen of appropriate age on the MetroNorth.

It's not that any conversation took place. He was asleep with his iPod on and I was asleep with my iPod on. Even without the barriers of unconsciousness and hearing impairment, it's nearly impossible to get a stranger talking in the wee hours of dawn. But then again, my fervor to sit near him wasn't about actually meeting him. For all I know he could've been a rapist, or a complete cretin, or seventeen. It's just nice to go to sleep next to an attractive stranger, thinking that maybe all the old married people who walk by marvel at the gorgeous couple you crazy kids make.

At least then you could claim the fog of nostalgia for their own youthful indiscretions is the reason they spill their coffee on you, as opposed to pure malevolence.

As usual, I woke up when the conductor announced the second to last stop. The boy didn't wake up until we were well into the tunnels leading to Grand Central, when the train is all dark and, dare I say it, romantic.

It's a shame that fetish sites on the Internet aren't more varied. How many resources are there for men who like women's feet? Or boobs? Or butts? How many places can you go to see women with vegetables, men in uniform, or couples copulating in animal suits? The spectrum of sensual desires sated by the World Wide Web is nowhere near as diverse as is commonly believed. I mean, think every fetish you've ever heard of. I challenge anyone to name more than, say, fifty--and I bet they all have at least ten different websites availiable (with a valid credit card) for your erotic consumption.

Those of us on the real fringes have little to work with. For example, there's no site intended for girls who have a bottomless passion for tired-looking boys who ruffle their own hair like a little kid.

To be fair, I can't say that I've checked--but only because I'm at work. I'm willing to bet that the exhaustive research I plan to undertake won't turn up a thing. What are we to do, the people who want nothing more than to have our hearts break over and over as we watch a scruffy guy in a second-hand blazer mess up his shaggy hair like he's seven, and being awake is too much of a burden to even deal with?

If only chicks with dicks really did it for me.

3 Comments:

Blogger Buckley said...

Cute Blog. Here's a pressie

Open it very quietly, you don't want it to wake up.

12:04 PM  
Anonymous mombi said...

i've always thought sleeping boys were the sweetest boys.

2:55 PM  
Blogger What'sHerFace said...

It's probably just 'cause they're not talking.

3:01 PM  

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