The soft bigotry of lowered expectations

Posted by Lex Konrad in Sex | Aug 21, 2005

You and me are floating on a tidal wave…
Together
You and me are drifting into outer space…

Coldplay, X&Y

There’s a storm gathering in your mind, a tidal wave rolling through your skull, an idea forming that maybe, just maybe, tonight’s gonna be a complete pain in the ass. You try not to think about it, you try not to talk about it, but you just know the notion’s gonna fester, gonna color everything you do. Ideas are dangerous things. To wit: try not to think of elephants.

Oh but you just did, didn’t you?

When Jimmy comes over offer him a drink. Put on some music. Wait for the girls. Your girlfriend bitches about bitches but all you can do is admire the way her ass looks in that little blue dress. She’s self-conscious of her muscular legs but you wouldn’t have them any other way. Smile when Emma arrives with her out-of-town friend in tow. The friend is a sassy little bitch who challenges you at every turn. “That’s a nice racket you have going with Leslie and Emma,” she tells you. She’ll be like this all night.

Smoke a rip but go easy. You don’t want to end up like Jimmy, his eyes now wide as saucers. Told you so, dude. Tumble out onto the streets of the Barrio, scoot past the opened fire hydrants and the old folks playing cards on neighborhood stoops. Half a block and you’re already drowning in sweat. You girlfriend wants you to be careful crossing the street. “Don’t worry,” you tell her. “Nothing can harm us in the Barrio.” Mi barrio mi mundo.

And it’s a Barrio party you wind up at, inside a sweat box apartment laden with heavy exhalations of marriage-a-wanna smoke. Grab a beer and try to cool down. Watch as Emma, ever full of surprises, sticks the lit end of a joint into her yap and locks lips with the hostess. Shotgun. The boys whoop and holler. Jimmy waits for Lisa to show up. She never does. It’s time to go, so you make your way out and walk over a block and try to hail a cab but no one will take your party of five. Salvation appears in the form of a minivan—a gypsy cab. Take it. You’ll thank yourself later on, when you’re rolling down Fifth Ave and Emma’s wrapped in your arms and she’s squeezing the crotch of your jeans and old school Michael Jackson is blasting out of the stereo.

You feel like an idiot standing on West Street waiting, and waiting, for the doorman to get his act together. Emma’s getting upset. Tell the bitch to chill, because soon enough Leslie will make her way in to summon B. The hostess emerges. The girls hug. You get your comps. Put the troubles at the door behind you. Try not to think of elephants, remember? At least it’s cool inside.

“It’s just that these girls are all so fucking predictable,” you’re telling Emma’s friend. Well what do you want? “Say anything, do anything original.”

Grin sarcastically at the porno playing on the big screen upstairs because it stands in such marked contrast to the restrained proceedings. You watch the women dance in small clusters, chiefly for the benefit of the assembled boyfriends and husbands. Sexual tourists in abundance, voyeurs, practitioners of the dark art of swinging-lite, now with 25% less substance. Sitting next to a woman now who’s thin and small-titted and hot in that seen it a million times way, you choke back tears of boredom. The leg of her jeans reveals a floral print set upon a fishnet weave that further reveals patches of her soft skin. Dispense with the chitchat and explore her real reasons for being here. Work your fingers under the fishnet. Get her to acknowledge that she has a cunt and you have a cock.

“I don’t want to have sex with anyone,” she disclaims, presumptuously.

The sentence begins to form in your mind, a tidal wave rolling through your skull: Listen bitch, I’ve heard it all before… You are, however, distracted by something else and the moment passes.

“She would have gotten wet if you’d said that,” Emma’s friend tells you later on. Oh, but you know. You know.

Listen bitch: the bad news is the after-party’s a bust. The good news is there’s now more weed for you. Morning comes and the soft light that streams in through the bedroom window is an unwelcome reminder that you’re up all night a little too often these days. Jimmy leaves. Emma and Les lie on the couch like spoons and you lie on the bed with Emma’s friend, smoking and drinking and talking. And when your girlfriend enters the bedroom you must have her now, consideration for your guests be damned—she’s been tempting you all night with a jiggle here and a swish there. Fuck her as your guests gather their things. Continue fucking her as they return to the bedroom to say their goodbyes. Continue even as you plant a kiss upon Emma’s cheek and give her a spanking for the road.

Listen bitch, you think. And then you come.

More: Swingers | Sex Party | Emma | Sex | Exhibitionism

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