It happened....

Franceso Clemente, Self-Portrait, 1989 

You arrive, look around, there isn't much. You walk down the aisle and spot the weird guy who never gives up, despite your overt rejections. You quickly pass, hoping to go unnoticed. Failed attempt. You glue your eyes to a meaningless spot on the wall, but you appear to be witnessing an epic occurrence.

Focused on nothing-but hoping he doesn't come near-you are surprised when he approaches. Startled even. You greet with a less than authentic grin (I know you've done it). He opens his mouth, his first words make you shiver, no, actually you realize you just gagged. He confesses that he is lacking intimacy and somehow thinks you are the indicated person to share this with. Your eyebrow arches, your nostrils flare, and you let out a deep sigh of annoyance.

You let him finish his train of thought, despite how repugnant he is. How morbid of you. It gets worst. He is restless and after three sentences, he proposes a most disturbing act. Not so much for the act itself -whatever tickles your fancy- but because he is almost a complete stranger. You pretend not to know what pegging is (actually you don't), but you figure to avoid any further conversation you play the dumb blond. You flea as fast as you can, open your browser and realize you were asked to insert something-a member you don't naturally possess-into a hole that is a whole-lot-of-ugly.

Shocked but mostly disturbed, you sit down to write about it. Its the only way to exorcise the feeling.