Going to go visit the whore

[gonores]

I'm 23. You'd think I'd be able to control my baser urges better than this....

We've all been there...

You had all week to line something up. The phone was right there, the whole time. But, suddenly, the sun is going down on Friday and you realize you're screwed. You make a dead-on sprint for the phone and start dialing every number programmed into my memory. But somehow, they know. You've pulled this stunt before. They're smarter this time. One by one, they let your call go to the machine. You know know better too. It's not even worth leaving a message. You try to save yourself a shred of dignity and move on to the next number, knowing the same, self-esteem-lowering routine is going to repeat itself in the next 30 seconds. You're such an idiot. One phone call any time in the last few days would have fixed this problem (Hell, the personal assistant probably could have made the call for you [img]/images/graemlins/tongue.gif[/img] )

All night long, you try to pick yourself back up. You remind yourself of the better times, when everything worked out. You've done unspeakable, incredible things with some of the best in the world. Other guys would kill to have your resume. But, you know what? None of that matters now. You know how this one is going to end up. You're going to lower your standards. As the sun rises, you sit there, another bottle of beer in your left hand, staring at her number in the phone in your right hand, fighting that internal battle you've fought so often before.

"Don't do it. You know how you feel every time you finish up with her. Remember when your friends caught you with her? You couldn't live that down all summer."

Like I said. We've all been there. You know and I know how this is going to end up.

You go to her because you know she won't reject you.

You go to her because she doesn't care how you look. She's impressed if you're wearing a shirt when you step in the door.

You go to her because she is right down the road and there's a good bet she's all alone right now.

You go to her because she knows her role in life. She's the emergency girl. Not just for you, either. You know there are other guys who lurk in the shadows of the city who have done the same thing before.

But none of that matters now. The urge is too strong....

*SEND*

"Hey, baby. Mind if I come over?"

"Of course not. Same rates as always"

That bitch. She had to mention it, didn't she? You'd think she'd learn by now that you just rather pretend like it wasn't there. Discretely leave the money on the desk on the way in and just pretend like it didn't happen. But she knows that the emergency girl can get away with it. Maybe that's what she gets out of your little relationship. That control she has over you at your lowest moments. She bottles up that power and drinks it every time she realizes she's never really going to amount to anything important in this life, and her pain goes away again.

You psych yourself up on the drive over. Maybe it's different this time. Maybe she's lost weight. Maybe she got a makeover. Riiiiiight.

You see her out your window. Goddammit. She hasn't changed a bit. Even with the 18 beers you have in you from that night, you can still pick out the glaring flaws as the sun struggles it's way up onto it's perch. She's the definition of low maintenance. Long, unkempt hair. Smelling bad. That hint of a sinister smile of someone who is going to consume another piece of your soul. You already dread that shower you're going to need to take after you're done.

But you get out of the car anyway.

You walk inside without saying a word.

You take a deep breath.

"Hi. I'm the 7:30 single. 9 holes. Walking."

"That'll be $20."

$20

For the priviledge of of putting on greens that don't pass for fairways on some of the courses I've played.

$20

To deal, for 6 of your 9 holes, with screaming kids who can't be dealt with by mom, because she's too busy hanging her Earnhardt Jr. t-shirts up on the clothesline.

$20

For one of life's little lessons that you know you will never learn.

You head out the door, head down. Well, at least it's sunny today. You pick up your golf bag and trudge over to the first hole. You pull out your driver and stare down the vast expanse of grass where you cannot differentiate between fairway and rough.

And for the next two hours, all is right with the world.

[gorie]

haha you expect a golf course to lose weight.

[Blackjack]

Aww man.. you've got to have at least 3.. or 4 girls you could call who you've hooked up with before that you could get for free.. I'm talking about like the 6s or 7s that you've hooked up with before.

I'd rather use the hand than sleep with a hooker.

Blackjack

[Brainwalter]

[ QUOTE ]
Aww man.. you've got to have at least 3.. or 4 girls you could call who you've hooked up with before that you could get for free.. I'm talking about like the 6s or 7s that you've hooked up with before.

I'd rather use the hand than sleep with a hooker.

Blackjack

[/ QUOTE ]

Finish reading.

[Blackjack]

Guess being up for 24 hours doesn't do my brain any good. I thought he was comparing the broad to a golf course or something.. I don't even know anymore.

Blackjack

[theredpill6]

WTF.

I'm not sure I completely understand who you are describing. WTF. Good story and you actually made me read the whole thing with your clever writing. Good job. I rarely read that big of a story on 2 + 2 .

[Rushmore]

Move to Florida. The whores here look like Angie Everhardt.

I have seen the Wisconsin whores, and they look more like Angie Dickinson, now.

[masse75]

Congrats on winning the creative writing contest for Ms. Mongillo's 6th period English.

[diddle]

I dont know if this is relevant, but I just got banned from the Crazy Horse Too in vegas.


Seee you guys tomorrow at noon for POTM LIMit BitSCHES

[DBowling]

this is a good post