One night I called up my friend to ask if he was going to join the rest of the boys for poker that evening.
“Can’t do it.” He declared. “I’ve scheduled a fuck-weekend. Starting at 6:00 tonight I’m going to do nothing but sleep, eat and have sex until Sunday night. So don’t bother calling me for anything else this weekend.”
“Have fun.” I said. “Remember to stay hydrated.”
Three hours later I got a call from him.
“What’s everyone up to?” he asked.
“Why? I thought you were having sex all weekend! In fact, if you’re not balls deep as you talk to me now, I’ll lose all respect for you!”
“I’m coming over.”
When he arrived and settled into a chair, he told us the story. It would seem that mid-coitus our girl threw her back out. The exact mechanics of the tale elude me, but I believe that the moral of the story was “lift/thrust with your legs, not your back.” Either that or “don’t have sex with anyone twice your weight.” I’ve tried to take both lessons to heart.
I wondered if that girl was waiting for the perfect moment when she was sitting around with the girls, wearing PJs, and watching “One Tree Hill” to say, “My man fucked me so hard I threw out my back.” Is it something that women like to brag about?
It got me thinking to what injuries I’d gotten in the sack. Not counting rug-burn, of course. I threw my neck out going down on a girl once. I guess if I wanted to pull out the big guns of injuries, I could always go to the Condom Allergy, but that seems like a half-assed wound. Men have a clearly defined ranking of injuries we’re proudest of. They are (in order):
- Sports Related
- Sex Related
- Work Related
- Drinking Related
- Idiocy Related
- Viral/Bacterial/Allergy Related.
Every single injury, scar, burn, cut, scrap, tear, or break is infinitely worthy of retelling to your fellow men. However, the point of every story should be:
- How the injury you sustained would have killed an Alaskan Grizzly
- How you hardly felt anything at all
- How you went back and did exactly the same thing again ten seconds after convalescing, or failing that, how it was the only thing that stood in the way of your career as a pro-athlete.
The ultimate Guy-Injury story happened to a friend of mine. He was riding his motorcycle down the highway in upstate NY, when he decided to try to stand on the seat. He promptly fell off, went over the guard-rail, fractured his collar-bone and broke a leg. Three months later, completely healed and having finally scrapped together enough funds to repair his bike, he drove down the same stretch of highway and tried to do the trick again. This time he managed to stay vertical long enough to fall off a bridge, hit a rock and break the same leg once more.
I hesitate to publish his name here, but it’s interesting to note that he now works for (I kid you not) Military Intelligence.
4 comments:
No baby doll, 'we' don't sit around in our GNOME PJ'S watching GILMORE GIRLS and bragging to our girlfriends about our injuries. Not unless you're lucky ;o)
One it was, 4 hours and she got hurt in the second round but trooped it up for a third, which rendered her immobile for the rest of that evening and for three days after. I think the position is called the double inverted ram. Its a moral trophy nothing more.
Maybe her back was already innjured... maybe Jack should stick to breaking hearts...
Maybe Jack should stick to breaking hearts...
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