Dear Dionysus XXIII: Nervous Dicks & Amphetamine Tics

Dear Dionysus XXIII: Nervous Dicks & Amphetamine Tics

Dear Dionysus,

Things were not easy for me with Isadora gone. All legalities aside, I simply missed her. Or rather, I missed all of the things that she represented to me and made me feel.

I am a disgusting creature of habit, Dionysus. If I experience something that I truly enjoy (or think I do), I simply must have it all the time. A dish, a feeling, a moment: if something suits my fancy enough, then I’ll do nearly everything I can to hold on to it as long as possible or, failing that, to attempt to recreate it.

For example: I had discovered that I thoroughly enjoyed the way that I felt when I had a girl on my arm. Not just any girl obviously: She had to be halfway intelligent and decent looking and have an agreeable taste in music at the very least. Because at the very least I was looking for acceptance. At best I wanted to make others envious of the bitchin’ girlfriend I had, because the girl was the measure of the teenage boy and envy was a definite sign that I was better than those doing the envying.

This was all nonsense, of course, but it made perfect sense to me. I had to get a girlfriend and fast, Dionysus. Like fucking yesterday, dig?

There were a few problems though. Firstly, I didn’t really know any girls, at least none that met my oh-so-stringent standards. Secondly, I didn’t really know where to go to meet girls. Isadora had kind of fallen into my lap (mind the statutory rape jokes, love) and it was a freak occurrence that surely wouldn’t replicate itself. I wasn’t old enough to get into bars yet, which was the only place I knew for a fact that girls dumb/drunk enough to give me a shot would be at. And my legal woes had me so worked up and afraid that there was absolutely no way I would chance a fake ID. Remember that I was always a coward at heart, Dionysus.

There was also the glaring, troublesome fact that I had absolutely no idea how to be even remotely charming or interesting in the eyes of a female unless I was soaked to the gills. If I wanted to get real loose, I had to get real tight, which meant that I had to find a chick who was into dipsomaniacal degenerates or at least found them tolerable enough to talk to.

I was getting real desperate. You know how I mentioned that I find something that I dig and then dig my heels into the ground trying to hold on to it and do it as often as possible? Well, Dionysus, sex is one of those things, and I hadn’t had any for a couple months. I was a blue boy, indeed.

However, I never would have admitted to myself that I had any of these ulterior or carnal motives for wanting to find a girlfriend. On the contrary, I was in the market for “love” and “romance” and “companionship.” But really I just couldn’t stand being alone with myself and wanted (needed) to get fucked.

So it was perfect when I met Analiese. I don’t even recall the circumstances or specifics of our meeting, I just remember that it was through mutual friends and that it was at some house party.

Is that cold of me, Dionysus? That somehow, subconsciously, I decided that meeting this girl was so inconsequential that I could ditch the details long ago, just jettison the bullet points and make room for more important things? Well, I’m writing about it now, so that’s gotta be worth something.

Analiese was cool because she liked to party and she was pretty all right looking and seemed to dig me. She also had this cute little habit of grinding her teeth, which I wrote off as a minor nervous tic of some kind. I’ve always been a bit twitchy myself, so how was I to know that she was all hopped up on amphetamines? I didn’t have any experience with drugs or pharmaceuticals (yet), and I genuinely just thought that she was naturally that energetic.

We had sex, Dionysus. Likely the only reason I can remember is that she was just the second girl I had legitimate coitus* with and that’s a bit special, I suppose. But here’s the thing: I can’t for the life of me remember whether she was a virgin or not. Part of me is inclined to say that she was, but part of me isn’t. I don’t mention this in the interest of machismo or braggadocio or anything along those lines; The reason I point this out is that, despite my firmest convictions that I was a moral and sensitive young man who truly cared about other people (especially my romantic partners), I wasn’t. I was Narcissus and every girl was a puddle and if that reflection wasn’t exactly to my liking then I just had to find another puddle.

I can’t say whether Analiese was a virgin or not because all I knew was that I wasn’t and I was only really concerned about me, Dionysus.

Anyways, after awhile I decided that Analiese had to go. She listened to questionable music and wore crooked trucker hats sometimes. And I didn’t love her either. I may have said it during the height of drunken passion**, but I just didn’t mean it and I didn’t want her around anymore. Isn’t that something? How I would do anything to get the girl and then in turn do anything to get rid of her when I was sick of her?

Oh, but you taught me that trick, didn’t you? The old now-you-see-monogamy-now-you-don’t trick? A slighting slight of hand if there ever was one.

But I’m a tired boy if there ever was one, so we’ll have to continue this tomorrow, old friend.

</3 Rateval Hurtlinge

*As opposed to illegitimate coitus, which is a whole other ballgame.

**If I had a nickel… I'd like to take this opportunity to sincerely apologize to the entire female species for my existence.

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