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Authors: Danny King
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Tom. That’s the way it went for him for a
very long time in fact.
Eighteen months was his longest stint without sex. Can you
imagine that? Eighteen months?
In those last few months he became really quite hopelessly
pathetic; a cross between a manic depressive and a strung out junkie.
Lesser men would’ve given up,
cut it off and turned gay/serial killer/train spotter if they’d had to go
through what Tom had gone through, but not Tom. No he stuck it out, determined
they weren’t going to get the better of him and kept banging his head against a
brick wall until he finally manage to con some poor naïve 24-year-old into
taking her bra off in front of him. Tina was her name, and an equally hapless
and hopeless specimen of insecurity you couldn’t wish to take advantage of. Tom
dated her at arm’s length for about four months before leapfrogging into the
bed of another girl and dumping Tina 21st Century style, ie. with an email. The
email had been short, sweet and to the point. Here’s what it had said:
Hi Tina,
Sorry for not calling back this weekend but I’ve been really busy.
Also, I’ve been thinking and I don’t think it’s working out. Hope you
understand but I think it’s best if we cooled it for a while. Take care, and
good luck at the dentists, I’m sure it’ll be fine so don’t keep worrying.
T
ps. I
posted you back your Greatest Love Songs CD but I think I sent it to the wrong
address.
I printed this off and showed it to Sally simply because I
couldn’t believe it.
I also couldn’t understand why he’d done this to Tina,
especially after all he’d gone through himself, but Tom just said that it was
his turn to be a bastard.
Well, from that day onwards it seemed permanently Tom’s turn
to be a bastard, because the next girl went the same way, as did the girl after
that and the girl after that.
Tom’s confidence grew with every weekend and he even started
winking at people whenever he said something clever and suddenly he was the
bee’s knees as far as girls went. He still didn’t have any luck finding any
sort of long-term soul mate but as far as [Tom’s words] “old bikes up against
bus shelters” went, he had it all sewn up.
Naturally, not every girl fell for his charms, an awful lot
actively despised his guts in fact, but he laughed at his failures as well as
his successes, so I reasoned a lot of what he told me had to be true.
“You dumped Su Li?” I said, Tom having told me this while I
was telling you about him. “Why?”
“Well, she weren’t all that to be honest. Too many teeth and
not enough tits, if you know what I mean.”
I didn’t.
“Why did you go out with her then?”
“What d’you mean, you saw her. Why wouldn’t I?” he said.
“Well I don’t know. Perhaps if you didn’t actually like her
or couldn’t see a future in it,” I argued.
“Yeah well, I’m not like you, am I? I just like sex.”
“What are you talking about, I like sex,” I objected, loud
enough to draw a shout of, “get a room” from the back of the pub.
“No, you don’t like sex, you like having sex with Sally and
there’s a difference. I’m talking about sex; sex for the sake of sex. A big
pair of tits and a neatly cropped fanny and some bird who’s name I can’t
remember lying there and letting me do whatever I want alongside her. That’s
what I’m talking about. Just tits and fannies.”
“And they say romance is dead.”
“No it’s not dead, it just has nothing to do with sex,
that’s all,” Tom said, taking a puff on his fag and blowing several smoke rings
across the bar. “Don’t get me wrong, I think you’re the luckiest bloke in the
world. You’ve got a cracker of a wife you’re in love with, a happy and stable
marriage and a couple of kids limbering up in her ovaries. I reckon you’ve got
the lot.”
“And so will you if you keep on shagging around like this,”
I told him.
“Oh no, don’t worry, I’m always safe. I mean, you have to
very long time in fact.
Eighteen months was his longest stint without sex. Can you
imagine that? Eighteen months?
In those last few months he became really quite hopelessly
pathetic; a cross between a manic depressive and a strung out junkie.
Lesser men would’ve given up,
cut it off and turned gay/serial killer/train spotter if they’d had to go
through what Tom had gone through, but not Tom. No he stuck it out, determined
they weren’t going to get the better of him and kept banging his head against a
brick wall until he finally manage to con some poor naïve 24-year-old into
taking her bra off in front of him. Tina was her name, and an equally hapless
and hopeless specimen of insecurity you couldn’t wish to take advantage of. Tom
dated her at arm’s length for about four months before leapfrogging into the
bed of another girl and dumping Tina 21st Century style, ie. with an email. The
email had been short, sweet and to the point. Here’s what it had said:
Hi Tina,
Sorry for not calling back this weekend but I’ve been really busy.
Also, I’ve been thinking and I don’t think it’s working out. Hope you
understand but I think it’s best if we cooled it for a while. Take care, and
good luck at the dentists, I’m sure it’ll be fine so don’t keep worrying.
T
ps. I
posted you back your Greatest Love Songs CD but I think I sent it to the wrong
address.
I printed this off and showed it to Sally simply because I
couldn’t believe it.
I also couldn’t understand why he’d done this to Tina,
especially after all he’d gone through himself, but Tom just said that it was
his turn to be a bastard.
Well, from that day onwards it seemed permanently Tom’s turn
to be a bastard, because the next girl went the same way, as did the girl after
that and the girl after that.
Tom’s confidence grew with every weekend and he even started
winking at people whenever he said something clever and suddenly he was the
bee’s knees as far as girls went. He still didn’t have any luck finding any
sort of long-term soul mate but as far as [Tom’s words] “old bikes up against
bus shelters” went, he had it all sewn up.
Naturally, not every girl fell for his charms, an awful lot
actively despised his guts in fact, but he laughed at his failures as well as
his successes, so I reasoned a lot of what he told me had to be true.
“You dumped Su Li?” I said, Tom having told me this while I
was telling you about him. “Why?”
“Well, she weren’t all that to be honest. Too many teeth and
not enough tits, if you know what I mean.”
I didn’t.
“Why did you go out with her then?”
“What d’you mean, you saw her. Why wouldn’t I?” he said.
“Well I don’t know. Perhaps if you didn’t actually like her
or couldn’t see a future in it,” I argued.
“Yeah well, I’m not like you, am I? I just like sex.”
“What are you talking about, I like sex,” I objected, loud
enough to draw a shout of, “get a room” from the back of the pub.
“No, you don’t like sex, you like having sex with Sally and
there’s a difference. I’m talking about sex; sex for the sake of sex. A big
pair of tits and a neatly cropped fanny and some bird who’s name I can’t
remember lying there and letting me do whatever I want alongside her. That’s
what I’m talking about. Just tits and fannies.”
“And they say romance is dead.”
“No it’s not dead, it just has nothing to do with sex,
that’s all,” Tom said, taking a puff on his fag and blowing several smoke rings
across the bar. “Don’t get me wrong, I think you’re the luckiest bloke in the
world. You’ve got a cracker of a wife you’re in love with, a happy and stable
marriage and a couple of kids limbering up in her ovaries. I reckon you’ve got
the lot.”
“And so will you if you keep on shagging around like this,”
I told him.
“Oh no, don’t worry, I’m always safe. I mean, you have to
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