His Gift

Most men can't even spell romance, let alone be romantic. John, however, is a real man who doesn't see the buying of flowers for his date as a waste of money. The way he sees it, those flowers are his investment in her along with the unspoken promise between the two lovebirds that they will have sex later in the evening.

The sex later in the evening will be at his place as he is aware his date for the night lives with her mother. The downside of this is his flatmate, Terry, being a notorious voyeur...listening with his ear against the wall and his hand upon his heart, among other places, to the loud screams coming from the next room, when either Nancy or Shirley or Wendy or Carol or whoever is the lucky girl having coffee at John's place that night, is making a ruckus.

Once they arrive back at his abode, a real man shows a real woman what three minutes of unadulterated strange noises, followed by loud snoring, is really like. And she likes...to scream her drunken disapproval at his lack of effort before running to the bathroom, hand over mouth and vomiting in the disgusting toilet bowl. And when she sees the thick layer of black pubes and brown skid marks her lovely long hair is now marinating in because no one was there to hold it up for her, she vomits again, knowing that lingering stench will be with her for days, no matter how many times she shampoos it.

Meanwhile, our real man is in a semi-conscious state and is almost aware of the gender-specific moodiness and ungrateful nature being displayed only feet away in his bathroom. And it's not the first time he has sensed this. Any lady who is lucky enough to find herself in his bedroom will end up revealing her true nature...but only after they have used him for their pleasure. But, a real man doesn't play IOU games and so, John expects nothing in return for the wonderful gift of himself the ungrateful bitch received tonight.

But wait, there's a bonus gift for her and her alone...he forgives her. And there's more. Along with the gift of forgiveness, he gives her a satisfied, half smile, half leer, with dribble running from the corner of his mouth, down his chin and onto his pillow. In this dreamlike state, he hopes she will treasure his gifts, one of which he has secretly placed in a pocket of her coat. Being a real man, he understands that all it took was three minutes with him, to forever change who she is.

*******

Hold on, there's been a protest from the slut. She searched online and found a site called, World Casual Sex Guidance and Post One Night Stand Regret Advice Line, which is marketed towards girls who may have had a tiny bit too much to drink and perhaps have done things they may in the morning regret. And if so, for a small fee, they will provide an expert, objective, non-biased adjudicator, who will, without exception, judge in favour of the plaintiff, or whoever paid for the service, on any point of regrettable behaviour. On the matter at hand, the three minutes this non-loving couple spent in nirvana, it shall be decided whether the act counts as actual sex, or be downgraded to the lesser misdemeanour of drunken heavy petting with superficial and meaningless intercourse.


And after (coincidentally) only three minutes of consideration, a decision has been made...fairly and squarely in favour of the plaintiff.

And the ruling is as follows...

“The plaintiff shall be made free of any and all responsibility in this matter. She is hereby declared to suffer from Seriously Bad Judgement Disorder, or SBJD, which is not an offence under the Casual Sex Act, and so, in that regard, this matter shall be struck from the records. The three minutes the plaintiff endured during the non-loving, but somewhat consensual act of drunken heavy petting with superficial and meaningless intercourse is punishment enough. Unfortunately for her, these three minutes can never be struck from her mind, regardless of how much she drinks or what drugs she takes in order to try and forget. The sad fact is because these images are forever etched in her mind, they may cause her to make drastic decisions in regard to her future casual sex life."

"Court dismissed!”

*******

Standing on the road outside that place of shame and acrid smells, the first rays of sunlight glisten off her lovely, yet stinky hair. She ponders, not for the first, and definitely not the last time, "Where the hell am I...this time?"

Staring through the alcohol haze, she then silently asks herself, "WHY? Why in God's name, when I know what I'm like when I drink wine, did I say yes to that tenth Chardy?"

Her pondering turns to blame as she declares, silently again, "So what if Whatshisname, the snoring machine, was shouting drinks all night."

As she waits for the cab to arrive, with a driver she knows will judge her with just one quick glance, she searches her pockets, hoping for a miracle and to find a pack of cigarettes. But instead of finding the cigs she so desperately needs, her hand feels the unopened, unused and forgotten in the drunken haze of lust, condoms...condoms she put there the night before, swearing an oath on her mother's life that this time, no matter who she picked up, she would make wear.

Then, as her need for nicotine quickly diminished any regret over her mother's life or the possibility of having again contracted an STD, a further search of her pockets revealed there was more than cigarettes to be found. She had discovered a gift, something special which that horrible, ugly, yet sweet and disgusting, smelly, badly dressed but generous when buying drinks, little real man...a man she had met for the very first time only the night before, had secreted, unbeknown to her, upon her person.

And it came to be that it wasn't just the possibility of another trip to the clinic, a hangover, or God willing, a blackout, he had given her. It was something far greater than she had ever known (no, not crabs). As she climbs into the back seat of the cab, the driver gives her that knowing smile all sluts know and appreciate, and for the first and last time, she leaves this place of minimal pleasure and strange smells, embracing the special gift he has given her. And as the cab winds its way towards her mother's home, her thoughts turn to next weekend, when she will, for the first time, become a lipstick lesbian....the gift only a real man could give.