In Vegas I made the mistake of telling my “friends” I had an “accident.” The girl giving me a lap dance was grinding too hard, and I blew my load. Within minutes the nicknames started: Sticky Pants, Pocket Paste, et cetera. I took my medicine for three days in Vegas and thought that would be the end of it. Then, before I walked in the door at home, my brother was calling me Sticky Pants. Now my boss and coworkers are calling me SP.
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Second, you’re a dumbass, SP. Your first dumbass move was telling your friends you blew a load. If you’re old enough to get into a strip club and straight enough to blow your load during a lap dance, you should’ve known better. Of course they’re razzing you–that’s what straight men do. It’s how you people express affection and/or hostility. Still, you’ve learned a valuable lesson: In the future, what happens in your pants in Vegas stays in your pants in Vegas.
Your second dumbass move was failing to laugh off the nicknames. You say you “took your medicine,” but how well did you take it? Ask any seventh grader: If a cruel nickname visibly upsets the person being stuck with it, people redouble their efforts to make it stick. You were bothered, they could tell, and the end result is that SP may be your nickname forever.
For crying out loud, JPEG, I sometimes read my e-mail in the morning over my breakfast. Do you have any idea how disconcerting it is to listen to Carl Kasell’s voice while looking at pictures of some guy’s guts hanging out of his anus? (And for the record, kids of all ages, pulling your colon out of your body is not a “new sexual technique.” It’s a stupid, disgusting, and potentially fatal stunt.)
A friend of mine is married to a girl I find very attractive. Based on my own observations of her and little things that he’s shared, I get the very distinct impression that this hot girl is a horrible lover. I would guess that they rarely have sex, and that she rarely gets into it very much when they do. Which brings me to my unimportant query: How often do you hear from readers going out with beautiful people who completely suck in the sack? Beauty is revered by everyone, and every guy I know is looking for someone who looks great on his arm. Could this be the proverbial catch-22 of chasing a beautiful person? –Chasing the Wrong Tail
