“The first time I saw him in daylight (the day after we “met” in the club), I told him I didn’t remember meeting him or giving him my number.”

~

By two.one.five Staff  |  Send to Friend

Player Profile: Wherein we present a portrait of a former paramour, done all NFL draft style.

Fake Name: Jimmy Jones
Height: 6’1.5”
Weight: 220

Short Bio: Tall, dark and mildly handsome (under club lights, that is -- it’s not until you hit regular lighting that you notice the scruffiness), he gets a decent picking of girls and tries his best to show them a good time. By a good time, I mean a harried trip to the couch after a long night of partying, where he tries his best to give you the business. Not one for much talking, he works off of body language. Like a bloodhound he can smell desperation and treats females accordingly. He is not a Prince Charming and will not pretend to be. A club rat he will always be. 

Career Highlights:
-The first time I saw him in daylight (the day after we “met” in the club), I told him I didn’t remember meeting him or giving him my number. I told him I only answered his phone call because I was just curious about the kind of guys I speak to when I’m completely wasted. His response? Grab me by the waist and start slobbering on my neck. So much for a good first impression. Guess we both gave bad ones too, because only the Lord knows what I did the night before to merit that.

-His kissing skills actually turned out to be pretty decent (i.e. I had nothing better to do) so I humored him and we hung out the next week. Warning to all the ladies out there: don’t hook up on the first date, especially if it’s not a real date, because the most chivalrous treatment you’ll get is some Papa John’s pizza and wings.

- Jimmy Jones was a little too freaky for my tastes. Intimacy for him meant pressing me against the wall in my apartment building’s hallway and tonguing me down. Once, while eating dinner with my roommate, she stepped away for a second he decided to hastily juggle my breasts. I had just barely stuffed my girls back into my blouse when my roommate walked back into the kitchen. He looked a little too pleased about my near exposure.

-It’s bad enough when a dude wants you to cook for him but this guy wanted me to wash his hair. Yes! He came by with his hair in this huge, curly ‘fro and tells me he’s about to get it braided. So could I please wash his hair for him? Mind you, I had a paper due the next day. But he kept pestering me, so finally I gave in. He actually had a whole lot of hair and it was so unmanageable that I had to use my deep conditioner to get my fingers through it. I was pissed -- that product was some good shit and cost good money that went to waste on his nappy head.

-He was extremely proud of his Eritrean culture and would make me sit through countless Youtube videos of Eritrean music, Eritrean girls (yes! girls!), the rap he made with his buddies about Eritrean girls, Eritrean dance, Eritrean parties, etc. He even made me get a little history lesson via Wikipedia. Don’t get me wrong. I like learning about other cultures but if we understand that this is not a “love thing,” why must I know this much about you or your culture? Fuck talking! Let’s do what we came to do and hook up!

-He would disappear for weeks on end and then randomly hit me up expecting some action. I wised up fast and changed his name in my phone to ASSHOLE. I got a little thrill out of seeing it flash on my screen a few days a week. He wised up too and decided to hit me up from about three different numbers. Once, I answered the phone by accident and he tells me he’s downstairs waiting in my apartment lobby. I mulled over my decision for a second and decided to let him up for a quickie, just for the fuck of it.

-I wish I could say that that was the last I saw of him. In the words of the licentious rapper Khia, I just wanted to “get that dick and go…get it and go.” But no…it never works out like that. I saw him at a party every week for about a month after that. In fact, I just saw him a week ago at a house party. And he did the same thing he did the other times. In lieu of acknowledging me, he grabbed two of my closest female friends and began to grind on them. I watched in amusement, as my friends’ eyes widened in embarrassment and concern for me. I smiled and fought back tears of laughter as the gloating smile on his lips turned to one of shame once he realized my tears were not those of sadness. But perhaps they, too, were tears of shame as I wondered why I ever let him within ten feet of my body. Eew.

Sexuations: Wherein we identify hot new sexual possibilities.

1. Stick It!

 

Become a gymnast for your guy. Just seeing you in those weird, contorted positions will make him rock hard. All you have to do is try to stick your landing right on his dick. A perfect landing and smooth segue into sex gets a perfect 10!

I totally understand my boyfriend's gymnast fantasy, but I wish he wouldn't always make me salute the judges after I stick it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

2. The Spiderman

Break out those industrial suction cups from the Army surplus store and give peeping Toms something to gawk at as you and your favorite adventure-fuck stick up on a glass windowpane and go at it like dolphins in an aquarium.

The window washer definitely saw me getting frontally railed this morning -- worth it though, I brought some Navy seal home to Spiderman the molasses out of me.