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| Don't you think it's interesting how some people produce images of the cross to look like a judgemental, dickhead dad? This is one of those images. Just me? |
For the most part, I don’t have anything against super religious guys. I bet they make nice dinners, know how to change an air conditioning filter and are great at missionary. Some girls are into it and I can respect that. No fuss. However, what I do have a problem with are those guys who aren’t completely upfront with their fanatical Jesus syndrome. For some reason they are really sneaky about it (guilt, obviously) which inevitably pops up in the most precarious situations. These dudes need to put it out there from the get go. Ladies, your line of questioning should go, “Do you have an STD? Herpes? Children? How many times a week do you go to church and on what days?" (You know the people who go to church on Wednesday’s as opposed to Sunday’s are straight fucking loony).
I briefly dated a lovely Christian chap whom I met at a party. He was a deceptive Hunk, the worst kind. I found out later he was a Wednesday and Saturday churchgoer (Shit! My abuelita warned me about staying away from those crazies). Obviously, I didn’t know this or I wouldn’t have agreed to hang out with him numerous times at bars, then more parties, which inevitably led to me going back to his place. Here’s where it gets weird. He always wanted to give me a back massage, naked. Ok, great. I’m totally into that. Thank you. More, please. He would start by giving me a thorough rub down then ever so gently he would place his penis on small of my back (giggles, I know). He would just leave it there for a minute or two, adjust it, then let it slide down my ass crack a bit, then place it on my back again. Now, just imagine my face looking like one of those big-eyed cat clocks whose eyes just swing side to side with their exaggerated blinking, that’s what I looked like. Then he would just lay on top of me like dead weight. At first I thought maybe he was trying out some new technique to awaken my hibernating chakras or something. I’m not stuffy, I can get into new shit. But, that wasn’t the case. As our encounters grew, he started to concentrate his penis solely on my ass crack, and less lower back. Interesting. Then, as soon as I would turn over he would stop abruptly. After a couple more frustrating encounters like this, I gave up. I started to look at him as my personal masseuse which I honestly kind of preferred for a while. Little did I realize at the time, he was getting me naked and rubbing all over me because that wasn’t viewed, to him, as sexual or wrong but once I rolled over, woah! Vagina, the gateway drug.
We stopped seeing each other when it became clear that I would rather spend $100 for a massage then give him a call. After I stopped hanging out with him I heard all these hilarious stories of how he fancied himself a disciple or some shit. Apparently, he was taking his bible to the bar we used to hang at to talk to people about the good word. That’s fine, do what you want to do. I think one drunk night I told the bartender how he used to like to simulate sex on my back and ass crack. Whoops. I think that guy is married now with a dick ton of babies.
Watch out for those Wednesday and Saturday churchgoers, I tell ya.
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