I’m Sick Of Sucking So Many Different Dicks
December 16, 2011 § Leave a comment
Today, at the toy store, right after breakfast, I found this plastic wand filled with water and glitter. It’s a stupid little tube, and I wanted to throw it. Instead I bought it.
Mary Lou was the first therapist I was even taken to. She was fat and liked to wear those long, buttonless sweater vests in warm browns. I went to see her when I was seven, with my mulleted head full of ideas about the sort of bad person who sees a therapist. It was a threat from my crazy relatives. They kept saying they’d take me to a therapist if I didn’t straighten up. I guess I didn’t, because I started seeing Mary Lou, who would have me draw pictures and then she’d ask questions about why I never had any arms in any of the drawings.
Last night I was getting fucked in that painful, thrusting, holding your ass cheeks open way that makes a person grab the sheets really tight. He liked to watch me pee in between fucks, and he’d put his head between my legs and try to lap up the gushing urine. He’s a good friend, and we’ve been meaning to get at this for a while. Today, though, my butt hurts right at the crack and the skin is raw from being pulled too tight.
My dumb fuck relatives stopped taking me to see Mary Lou because they said I was enjoying it too much, but then when I was 12, by chance, I ended up back in her office. She still had my file with my armless pictures. I’d moved so much by then that I was instantly in love with how she held onto something from my childhood, but I didn’t enjoy our sessions as much.
I’d show up stoned and she would know it, and she’d pull out this stupid plastic wand and she’d be like, “If you could make any wish with this at all, what would you wish?” And I’d sit there thinking “I guess I’d wished I was raped less or not tortured, or that my mom actually wanted something to do with me.” And I think now, that’s what she was going for. But I was 12, and the wand thing just pissed me off. No stupid little piece of plastic was going to make a difference, Mary Lou. Wave it all you want with your sagging purple-meaty arms. You’re still going to have a giant mole next to your nose, and I’m still going to grow into the sort of woman who finds herself in regular situations, like watching some small dicked Italian gay virgin jack off in his shower, even though with each stroke I hate him more.
So, anyway, I bought the wand and it’s sitting next to my bed. I mean, here’s where I make some sort of statement about what I’d wish for or how I’m hoping the wand will somehow turn me into ALL BETTER and I’ll smell less like dick all the fucking time. But, no. It’s just sitting there, watching me get drunk at 3 p.m. and doing as much good as it ever did.