|Tuesday, October 14th, 2003|
2:04a - Process of Elimination - Part One
Okay boys and girls, it's time to reveal the first "TRUE" statement, as listed in my "Liar, Liar..." post. I've decided that the stories behind each of the statements are too much fun to condense -- besides, this way people will have a chance to decide which ones are true from the remaining list.
Item number 1: "As a result of a frame up job, I was interviewed by the secret service for threatening the life of the President of These United States (as opposed to the Other United States, I imagine...)"
(drum roll please!)
While dragonwitchling correctly points out I would never stoop to threatening the Shrub (or indeed any president, however heinous), she missed the part where I said that it was a frame. A pretty shoddy frameup at that.
That story dates back to my Junior year in college, when the Shrubs father was still veep to Ronnie Raygun, and the Shrub himself was still snorting the Devil's Dandruff in the great state of Texas.
I had managed to create a schedule that kept all my Friday's completely free, which allowed me to party pretty strenuously the Thursday before. As a result of one such debauch I was trying to sleep in that particular Friday, only the damn phone kept ringing. Since the apartment I was in shared a phone, this meant I had to get up every 30 minutes, trudge into the living room, and try to sound coherent and write down messages. During these dark ages we didn't have voicemail, and even answering machines were a luxury that most students couldn't afford... or at least we didn't prioritize them very highly. In other words, we were spending our "spare" dough on beer and drugs.
After the last call I answered I decided that disconnecting the phone would be a good idea, as I was ready to throw it out/through a window. I crawled back into bed, pulled the covers over my head...
... only to have someone knock on the damned door.
Life really IS a sitcom, sometimes.
Anyway, I resigned myself to being long suffering, walked to the door, and opened it. It was one of the Public Safety dudes I knew, "Ranger Tom" (the outfits they made PS wear looked a lot like ranger outfits, and his name was Tom). To say this guy was easy going was an understatement -- he had a rep for being incredibly cool, and I, for one, trusted him not to over-react to anything. So I was a bit taken aback to see him look so... serious.
He told me that they wanted me in the dean of students office. Since I had dealings there a few months earlier (I'll get to that in a bit... it's actually relevant) I had this sinking feeling in my stomach. I told him I would be right there... and he said he had to take me there himself. This wasn't looking so good.
I got a jacket, tried to look as presentable as someone who hadn't had enough sleep after partying can look, and went with him. Back then my hair was halfway down my waist, which I tended to tie back. I wore an old Army jacket (I think Jen got it after the breakup) and ratty jeans... pretty much the only pair I had. I didn't think anything of it -- the Dean knew me, and was pretty tolerant of my sartorial non-splendiferousness.
We got to the offices (some old traditional buildings that were a part of the property before SUNY Purchase had been built), and he walked me up, and I got my first inkling that something Very Weird was going on. In the receptionist area outside the deans office, sat... the Dean. Which was all wrong. Why wasn't she IN the office, being intimidating and all?
The answer was that there was already someone in there, out intimidating the dean. There were two people, so incredibly well dressed my first thought was "oh-oh...lawyers". Then one of them asked if I was John Halbig... after I said it was, he identified himself as an agent of the Secret Service... as was the woman.
Now, I'm normally the picture of utter confusion on a good day, so this sent me to a special place that seems almost idyllic to me nowadays. They started asking me these odd questions, like, had I ever written anyone in the government (uh, yeah... I was in college, I was pretty certain I had written my congresscritter at least once), had I ever written the president (uh, no... why would I? While the president is an obvious focus, it's usually congress that gets things done... at least that's what I thought then as a complete political naif)...
Finally, they show me this letter, written on what had to be one of the manual typewriters in the library, that was essentially a veiled threat against the president... as in "you better watch out or someone will take a shot at you" kind of wording. It not only had my name and address on it, but my social security number, my HOME address, and just enough warped fact to make it seem almost plausible it was sent by me.
I really wish I had a picture of my face when I saw that letter. Aside from the fact that I hadn't written it, it was almost an insult: The writing was awful, the facts skewed (it claimed that I was "angry because I couldn't get my medication" because of Regan's budget cuts, which I pointed out wasn't true... I was covered under my sperm donor's insurance until I was 21), and didn't even have an attempt at a signature. The killer was that at that point I *never* used the manual typewriters any more... I had full access to the computer labs, complete with dot matrix printers.
After about 20 minutes I could almost feel the focus move off of me like a spotlight, having spotted, moving on. That's when they asked me who COULD have written the letter.
I was about to answer negatively, when it hit me.
Remember I said I had dealings with the dean recently? Well, it was because of a problem I was having with someone I had "rescued" many months earlier. There was this girl... Lisa... who was being harassed by this harmless schmuck, Louis. He was just being friendly, really, except she was painfully shy and afraid to tell Louis to leave her alone. Mary, a mutual friend, asked me to talk to Louis and ask him to back off.
As it turns out I had the opportunity to do that one day in the hallway, where the woman was trying to make herself one with a wall as Louis chatted her up. I chased him off, apologized to her for his behavior... and wound up being stuck with a stalker.
I didn't know that's what it was called then, but she developed this thing for me that was... well, uncomfortable. She was kind of pudgy, and maybe even kind of cute... but beyond that, nothing. She started leaving me gifts in my mailbox, notes slipped under my door, and so on.
It was starting to creep me out, so I asked her to back off... that's when the rumors started. Just really twisted stuff involving sexual escapades that not only weren't true, they were demonstrably not true. Several of them allegedly occurred when I was with my Dungeon and Dragons group, spending hours going over character minutiae.
I finally had to tell her to stay out of my life (I admit I was *trying* to be nice... and wound up being smeared), and things seemed to quite down... then the really UGLY rumors began to surface.
That's where the Dean came in: She called me in to talk to me about the stories that she had been spreading, not coming right out and saying, but pretty much hinting that I had raped her.
By the end of that meeting she told me she was going to tell Lisa to "put up or shut up": Either register a complaint or stop spreading rumors. The rumors stopped, and that was the last I heard about it. At least, until then.
I reluctantly admitted that there was a possible suspect, and gave her up. Even then I didn't want her to get into trouble... but this was so far beyond the pale, I knew I had to do something.
All in all I was in there for 30, maybe 40 minutes. I found out later they caught up with her while she did typesetting in the school newspaper's office ("The Load"... loved that paper!) and spent *90* minutes with her. It even made the paper later, under the headline "Bonzo's Gonzos Invade Purchase".
I think I would have been a lot less charitable if I had known that, at the same time I was being interviewed, my MOTHER was receiving a visit from another two agents on Long Island. Not knowing my status, they made me sound like another Jodi Foster fan freak to her. That took me an hour or two on the phone to talk her down later.
So, I was pretty much cleared, and as far as I know Lisa was never charged with any crime. As unnerving an experience as it was, I almost never had the chance to clear my name: Apparently the only reason they were there was because Daddy Shrub was due to give some sort of speech in Westchester. Otherwise I could have had that filed in some sort of special drawer somewhere under "dangerous wackos" or some such.
Lisa? Last I heard she wound up a paralegal somewhere in Manhattan. A bit of a relief, actually... She was majoring in psych at college.
current mood: mischievous
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2:23p - This Is Only A Test... Do Not Panic.
So, I hardly EVER do these, but it seemed like a silly fun thing to do:
I guess when I have an attraction for someone I just come out and admit it... except in the one or two cases where I know it would *definitly* make someone uncomfortable.
current mood: silly
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2:46p - Process of Elimination, Part Deux
Now for the second "TRUE" statement, as listed in my "Liar, Liar..." post:
Item number 2: "I lost my virginity in a tree house on long island with two fat women at once."
(And the survey says...)
In fact, I wrote up the whole thing for the first issue of Hanne Blank's 'zine, "Zaftig" (now defunct, unfortunately) some four odd years ago... and I mean "odd". Here it is in its entirety, as it was originally published:
I've often had to spin the bottle when people ask me about the "first time". I mean of what? The first time I got sexually stimulated looking at a fat girl? That would be age 11, and the woman would be Cass Elliot...on television, of course. On a special called "Don't Call Me Mama Anymore", if my memory hasn't been clouded in the intervening years. I wonder whatever happened to that special?
The first time I had serious fantasies about fat women? Well, that would have to be when I first read a passage in Anais Nin's "Delta of Venus" ("Pierre", I believe) in which a very large older woman gives a young teenaged boy his first blow job. I actually had it timed so that I could start reading that passage and orgasm about the same time as the boy in the story did.
Strangely enough, this ties into my first visual erotic experience. Instead of hiding playboy's under the bed, I had a copy of Rubens work sitting on my bookcase, in plain sight. People probably thought it was a sign of intelligence, not realizing that I was beating off furiously to "Angelica and the Hermit" late at night.
If this gives the impression I was a classic example of the late 70's nerd while growing up...well, it's a fair cop. My social life was very erratic and downright non-existent until I got braver my Senior year in high school, deciding that if you were alienating people by being smart in the first place, you might as well be having FUN with it. My reputation grew as a person with a weird sense of humor, but at least I left that place having left an impression.
Which, in it's roundabout way, brings us to the point in time of the traditional "first time": The night I lost my virginity.
I was about to graduate high school, and was 18 and a half. I had FINALLY started to date this lovely plump woman named Regina, who gave every indication that she was open to the idea of actual sex. I was moving cautiously, because I didn't want to scare her off by being over-eager.
It was going to be a classic friday night date at the movies. I had a feeling it *could* happen, and after an embarrassing episode the night before involving my very first condom purchase involving a loud exchange with a pharmacist in front of what turned out to be three elderly nuns (I'm a recovering catholic, by the way), I was as prepared as I thought I could be.
When I arrived to pick Regina up, she dropped a bombshell...she had promised her friend, Elyse, that she could come as well.
Needless to say, I handled this as best I could. I admit it was very hard (no pun intended!), as this was as close to getting laid in the 7 and a half years since puberty hit me like a truck, and I was seeing it vanish before me.
So we walk over to Elyse's house, and she comes out to meet us.
I've had my moments of strong sexual attraction before this, but this was different. I felt my knees turn to rubber, by head spun, and my stomach felt like the planet had whisked itself out from under me like a rug being taken out to be beaten. It was my first case of mind numbing, world shattering, take me by the crotch and throw me over the house LUST.
She was short, blonde, very tomboyish (I'd call her "butch" today), wearing a matching pair of sweat pants and a sweat shirt, and VERY well rounded. She had this cute little round nose and sparkling eyes, and I just wanted to sweep her up and...
...and she was my girlfriends best friend. That meant there was nothing I could, or should do, according to the rules of good taste that I worked hard to teach myself.
The movie was an interesting experience. I couldn't tell you what it was, as I was too busy being very conscious of the fact I was sitting between two very attractive girls, one who was making my blood pulse in a way that made me think I was having some sort of seizure. At one point Elyse rested her hand on my knee briefly, and I thought I was going to come right then and there.
Afterwards, Elyse suggested we grab a bite to eat. Being poor teenagers that meant a walk over to Jack in the Box, where we talked about various things, making jokes and what we thought were risque comments.
We had started the walk back, when somehow (yeah, right) we were all talking about sex. Elyse was talking about her experiences (and you can imagine what it was doing to me, though I was trying my best to be cool about it) when she said: "All I need now is someone to take my virginity".
Without thinking (if I had been, I would NEVER have said this!), I replied: "I would be glad to volunteer."
When I realized what I had said, I almost slapped my hands over my mouth. I mean, it was impulsive and rude, particularly in front of Regina, to make a comment like that. My only hope was that they thought I was joking.
Elyse gave me this odd smile and said, "Only if you have rubbers."
Thinking that I had gotten away with the "joke" cover, I decided to pull out the rubbers I had so valiantly achieved in the face of extreme mortification. Now, that WAS a joke.
Elyse took them from me, took my hand, and said "Let's go!"
At this point I was cracking up. It was mostly from relief at having turned it into something funny (Regina didn't look very upset...in fact, she was grinning as well), so it wasn't until she had run me a good distance that I started to object to being dragged along. Okay, so I was getting off on the fact she had my arm in this strong grip, and I was milking it for as long as I thought I could get away with it.
We were in this small wooded area when I stopped, and made some comment about it being a joke. That's when she took me by my head and kissed me, full on the lips.
I tried not to react and pull away. Bullshit, I sank into it like an exhausted man into a bed, wanting to snuggle into her forever. It wasn't until I felt Regina slip her arms around me that I pulled away...and then Regina kissed me, Elyse still holding me.
That's when I began to wonder just what the hell was going on.
The rest of the walk was a blur, with us walking hand in hand in hand. I started to think I was delirious, lying in bed somewhere constructing a happy fantasy based on one of the Anais Nin stories I frequented in my never ending search for more exciting self stimulation. I don't remember getting there, but Elyse was kissing me again in Regina's back yard.
Her parents weren't home, and her younger brothers were off at a friends house. Still, Regina didn't want to "do anything" in the house (were we going to DO something? I wondered), so we walked to the back of a long lot to where it was partially wooded. You got a lot of those kinds of places on Long Island.
We were looking for a suitable place to sit, when Elyse said "How about the tree house?" I looked up, and sure enough there was a classic crude structure built by Regina's brothers, a good ten feet off the ground, a hand made ladder leading up the side of the tree.
We climbed up and settled in. I kept getting confused about the etiquette, not realizing that I had suddenly taken a path where I was pretty much on my own to figure things out. We snuggled, and I kissed Elyse, then I'd kiss Regina (Regina and Elyse didn't interact much beyond snuggling). Then Elyse stood up, and before I knew it her sweat pants were descending over her hanging belly, her full hips, her...
Before they were halfway down her thighs, my face was buried between them, licking and tasting her. I had always wanted to do that, and that alone almost made me come... yet again.
I think Elyse was surprised...it wasn't for many years that I realized that when she talked about having done everything, she wasn't talking about all the things that could have been done to HER. I'm sure I was clumsy and inexpert, as there's only so much you can learn by reading, but she wiggled happily for a few minutes, then demanded that I fuck her.
Strangely enough, actual sex was only a minor point of the evening. I definitely took her virginity, but it was too tight and painful for her (despite the care I took...I had heard about how painful it was for virgins) for her to do it more than a minute. That's she she suggested I take it out and rub it under her belly fold.
With Regina whispering encouragement and Elyse kissing me and holding me in her large, strong arms, I didn't last long. I had never thought about using a fold of fat like that in any of my fantasies, and it was amazing how it felt more like what I imagined fucking would feel like than fucking did.
So there it is...my first time was with two fat women in a tree house. If there ever was a clear sign from above as to how the rest of my life would go, that was it. Looking back, it's obvious that Elyse was the first exhibitionist I had ever met, and Regina the first voyeur (I can't describe this happy look on her face while she watched us...she really WANTED us to have sex in front of her).
The three of us had several other experiences (Elyse is also the first fat women I had sex with while in a swimming pool), and then circumstances (not all of them pleasant, I'm sorry to say) caused us to drift apart.
As each subsequent first has brought me a great deal of joy, I often think about that time, and wonder what they're doing today, and if I'll ever see them again. Even as I'm typing that, I knock on wood: With this kind of luck, I suspect that you'll agree that anything's possible.
current mood: nostalgic
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