Diaries Magazine

The Parable Of Too Much Of A Good Thing

Posted on the 14 June 2012 by Jillofalltrades @JillDeTrabajos
It's been a LONG time since I've written a post, y'all.  I feel pretty guilty about it.  So I'm putting a lot of effort into this one, okay?  I mean I've already even, like, thought about what I was going to say.  That's pretty huge for me.

The Parable Of Too Much Of A Good Thing

But...thinking isn't easy, you guys!

First of all, I am an auntie, officially, as of like 20 minutes ago.  My sister and the baby are both healthy and happy, and everyone's crying, and it's all just pretty damn awesome.
Also, I'm cooler than anyone else's auntie.  Deal with it.
Next bit of news: this place is amazing!!!  Upstate NY in general appears to be wildly beautiful--trees, hills, mountains, greenery, rivers, fish, deer, bears (oh my!) and so much more.  And the people are pretty neat.  Well, I mean some of them suck.  There is CLEARLY a significant number of grumpy old people from New York City who moved up here to retire, and they're a little obnoxious.  But even they are excellent for people-watching!  And for a town of only 60,000 or so, Schenectady is pretty damn cool.  It's walkable, big, interesting, diverse, and there's a bar on seriously every corner.  And not just dark taverns filled with lonely old men, either.

The Parable Of Too Much Of A Good Thing

The beautiful Stockade District!

I've also found a small amount of work, which is pretty cool and I'm sure will provide some stories in the future.  I'm a waitress at a super-hippie cafe, with a 90% vegetarian/vegan menu, "Occupy Schenectady" paraphernalia everywhere, a table with a fish bowl as a centerpiece, and live music every night.  You could tell me it had been scooped directly off of like, SE 33rd and Belmont in Portland, and plopped down all randomly in Schenectady, and I wouldn't even blink before I believed you.
So all of that was updates for you, but I figure you deserve a legitimate story.  I've selected one that's entertaining and also pretty embarrassing, which I think you deserve (and I deserve) after not writing for so long.  You ready?  No, really, make sure you're ready.  There are details about people's body parts.  Anyone I'm currently seeing, have seen very recently, have seen before who is still squeamish and/or jealous, and anyone with a weak constitution should probably not read this part.
The Parable Of Too Much Of A Good Thing
So I once dated this guy, we'll call him Mick.  We met through Ok Cupid, an online dating site (shut up), and after talking and texting for a while we decided to meet for a beer after work one day.
I put on makeup, AND did my hair, AND put on pretty clothes, AND told everyone at work I had a date, AND got all excited. Anyone who knows me knows how much goddamn effort that takes out of me. (Again, shut up.  I was newly single for the first time, okay!?)
Like two hours before we were supposed to meet, he sent me a text saying he was "too tired" to go.
I was sincerely bummed, and embarrassed.  And I felt rejected, because who's "too tired" to grab a fucking beer?  I had put on makeup.  I would have gone even if I'd had to stick toothpicks under my eyelids to prop them up.
It didn't help that an hour later, after texting for a bit, he said he had to go because he was headed over to a friend's house.  I was definitely thinking what the fuck by now, and proceeded to avoid his texts over the next few days, and was purposefully vague about rescheduling.  "No, I'm kinda busy that day..."
If he hadn't called me on it, I probably would never have seen him at all.  But finally he was all "is this because I bailed that time?" and I was all "yeah, kinda" and he was all "I was legit nervous and didn't want to meet you all sleepy" and I was all "but you could go to a friend's house?" and he was all "yeah he's just like a buddy I can get high with and fall asleep on without offending him" and I was all "hmmmmm well maybe" and then he invited me to get a beer again...and I was lonely and horny and possessed of a poor self-esteem so I agreed.
So I got there first, and I don't remember if it was because I was early or because he was late, but I sat alone at the Sweet Hereafter for like 15 minutes at least.  Which isn't so bad because it's the best bar EVER, but it sucks when you're obviously a chick alone waiting for a date.  You feel like everyone is pitying you and thinking you were stood up.
Finally Mick got there.  He wasn't bad-looking, which is saying something for the internet, but he looked like the kind of person who would have been much better-looking if he were healthier.  I found out later that Mick was a wake-n-bake stoner, which marijuana-should-be-legalized-and-is-basically-harmless and all that, but consuming that much of ANYTHING will weigh on your body, and on top of it, he was unhappy in a lot of ways.  He was tall and had a good bone structure and nice eyes and stuff, but he was waaaaay too skinny for his body.  Like, pits in weird places kind of skinny.  Anyway, not the point.  Basically, he was weird-looking but handsome.
We talked too, and he was interesting.  He was much older than me, but I didn't feel like he was more mature, and we were able to have pretty level conversation.  He was a landscaper, and was very interested in starting a homestead someday.  He had recently come out of a long-term relationship, just like I had, but interestingly enough I could tell even then that though mine was a divorce and much more recent, I was handling it far better than he was.  He was living with his parents in this huge rich house in Beaverton, and I believed him when he said it was temporary, and I still do.  But it was still pretty sad to see his little room, with his pot stuff all stuffed in his closet, and his teenager bed and posters on the wall.  I had JUST moved out of my own mom's house, where I'd been desperate enough to stay for about a month in the process of the divorce.  It's awesome to have parents nice enough to let you do that, but it's still pretty degrading to have to.  Especially, I imagine, if you're a 28-year-old male.
*Side note: I've learned everyone has a reason-for-dating-on-the-internet.  For a lot of them, it's because they're fucking lame.  Some of them have legitimate reasons, like being new to dating or being really busy with work.  It's important to assess early on the reason-for-the-internet.  Mick's was that he was living with his parents and had just come out of a long-term relationship.*
Anyway, eventually we got to fooling around, which let's be honest, was pretty much the main reason we were both looking for people.  We were both lonely and horny as fuck.
All was fine, at least for me being me (I was SOOOOO awkward at first, guys. And I had recently been through some traumatic sexual experiences so I was especially sensitive and weird and OCD).  Until...and this is the funny/TMI part...I encountered his penis.
He placed my hand on it through his pants, just to communicate how turned on he was--you know, how guys do.  I pulled away in shock and exclaimed something along the lines of "holy shit, you're HUGE!"
Which thank GOD he took as a compliment.
But here's the thing, and I'm pretty sure I've told you guys this before: I have a really tiny vagina.
And he wasn't just huge, he was monstrous.  I tell people it was the size of a beer can...like 8 inches long and like 6 or so around.  Six inches around.  I can't even use super-size tampons.
Look, to girls in general, size really doesn't matter much.  People are always all "ooh, the bigger the dick, the better!" and it's a funny joke and everyone gets on board and laughs and shit.  But honestly?  Even a bit below average is TOTALLY fine, if you know how to use the damn thing.  And this is for women in general!  For ME?  Average penis size is 5.1 inches.  That's plenty big to me.
So we didn't have sex.  We did lots of other enjoyable things, but we couldn't have sex.  Because he had a monster penis and I had a squirrel vagina.
Eventually I realized I wasn't quite lonely enough to want to hang out with him anymore, and he was a little weird, and I was still struggling with some pretty massive trust issues.  So I gently ditched him.
And that was the story of Mick, and solid proof that you can indeed have too much of a good thing.
You're welcome.  That was totally embarrassing, and you had damn well better have laughed.  Preferably aloud.

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