Wherein Nigel gives in, and hires the...loooove....
I tooketh the plungeth, and actually engaged the services of a courtesan.Regular readers of this drivel know that I have been celibate for ages, and I have been concordantly driven insane with....what....lack of anything? Viagra ads turn me on, for God's sake. I'm so horny, the crack of dawn better watch out.
Mais moi, je digresse....
So, consulting a friend who looks like me (ugly beyond belief) and who manages to make it happen with women occasionally ('cause he's paying), I took his recommendation, and engaged the professional services of a sinning, disgusting, hellbound piece of shit company that is in the business of making lonely men like me vaguely happy.
Understand, this is something completely new to li'l ol' Nigel. Before I became a fat bastard, I wasn't, and could actually access le nookie du jour pour free. That's right, free. But no longer; having given up actually trying to find a woman who might be attracted to me, and realizing the odds on that would make a Vegas bookie laugh, I went whole hog and decided to pay for it. It's been 12 years, after all. 12 years of nothing.
Here's how my "date" went:
1. Call and engage the agency. "Hello, I'm Nigel, I live in the suburbs but is that a problem because I'm new to this, can I choose what I want, please tell me, I don't know what to do...
2. Told by the agency to "Please shut up, sir, we'll take care of you" and I calmed down.
3. Description of the girl I want: "Breathing and alive".
4. Their reaction: "Get specific. It's the only way we can help."
5. Further description: "ok, breathing, but also, um, long legs and nice looking and decent boobs and, gee, it'd be nice if she was sorta pretty in a Bailey from WKRP In Cincinatti way."
6. General agreement as to terms, $300 for one hour.
7. Me, showered, skin tags clean and everything, awaiting the arrival of my sex goddess.
8. Sex goddess arrives, if you squint and look sideways, sorta resembles a fat Mariah Carey but with no personality. Lucky moi--the first nookie in 12 years, and I'm paying for it, and she can't even sing "Hero".
9. Oh, joy. Can't perform, Cialis be damned.
10. Laughter and derision ensues, courtesy of fat Mariah Carey lookalike.
11. 12 years plus 1 day, sigh. And I'm out $300, and again have reinforced my feelings of total self-worth and engagement. NOT.
posted by Nigel St.John Regina Smegmatica Howle-Raines @ 9:10 PM
3 Comments:
Tell me you're lying about not being able to get it up.
She failed in her job duties, the first responsibility of which it is to know how to get around that issue and make it hard no matter how soft it starts out...
Clent satisfaction is all - I'd get Visa to issue you a credit.
I'm with Annie. She failed. You need your money back.
Is it the Viagra commercial where he pops his poppin pill then blast it all the fucken sink breaks (problems with your plumbing much?)
that one gives me a lil tingle, too.
i don't care too much for Mariah Cary
(or her horrible whore look-a-like)
in a side note i've missed you too and did you know on craig's list there are college girls who'd do ya for a laptop? It's true
AND I just saw an ad in the Parade (newspaper filler crap) that was advertising a computer for $299!! after the rebate - It's a win win situation.
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