The Pink Elephant in the Room- 36 (NYC)May we talk about the pink elephant in the room?
Yes, we all know what I’m talking about. I have a penis. I don’t have pictures of said penis nor will I take any.
But trust me folks, there is a penis in my pants. I walk around day after day pretending as if my penis is not guiding my every move and I can’t take it anymore.
I choose where to sit in class based on my penis. My choice of studying at this or that coffee shop is governed by penis. If FAFSA were not my sugar mama, I would choose the kind of car I drive on the basis of my penis.
And now here I am on this site on the basis of—you guessed it—my penis. Now listen, just because I’m all out of the closet and shit with my penisdom, that doesn’t mean I’m going to beat you over the head with it (neither physically nor metaphorically).
If you respond to me, I will not send you a creepy digital picture of my penis (see paragraph 1). If we talk on the phone, my penis will never enter the conversation. If by some crazy chance we go out for a drink, I promise that my penis will remain firmly in pants...uhm, securely rather.
But please remember, I do have a penis. Where the hell am I going with this? I honestly don’t remember. What I will say is that I’d like to meet a special lady who won’t hold my penis against me. We can start by hanging out and doing some non-penis activity. Beer and Scrabble perhaps?
If we like each other, maybe at some point in the future we can move into some pre-penis activity? Gnarly make-out sessions under the guise of watching DVD’s? And if we really, really like each other, the penis party will begin.
PS: My penis just said we could leap frog stage one and two and get the party started quicker if you insist. Shit I just blew it, huh? ahh, just ignore him!
Related: These Things Have A Mind of Their Own!