Charles was one of those friends like dried meat; he will last forever if you keep it right. It was no wonder that when I told him I was back in the city he excitedly invited me to his birthday party. I had really wanted to finally meet his fiancé. The day he asked me I was sitting in my room, naked as usual, and made a decision right there. The path to recovery meant getting out and continuing my life where it left off.
The meal was uneventful except for Charles who ate a 32 oz steak single handedly after demolishing the appetizers. Charles was always this excited guy and the fact that he had not slept more than 3 hours in 3 days meant he was manic. His constant aerobic demonstrations made the rest of us who were out of shape and well rested feel jealous. Afterwards we ended up in his place, with me ignoring many phone calls wondering when I would get home.
We broke into two splinter groups, one that enjoyed World of Warcraft far too much and the rest of the people trying to be social by talking over Resistance: The Fall of Man as we passed the controller amongst ourselves. Charles and me started talking and eventually the topic returned to my current ‘funk’ as I describe it that way at most three times a month. “Man, you aren’t doing well” he said. I did not respond, I was tired of hearing myself say it. “How about I find you a girl?” he suggested. I laughed, probably a second too long judging by his reaction. “Maybe you should, all I know is that I’m oscillating between horny as hell and depressed.” I said. I picked up the beer bottle and took a long drink from it. Charles had that concerned look on his face. “You’re taking this pretty hard aren’t you?” he said in that slow tone that was unusual for him. I did not want to say anything, and I did not have to.
Charles leaned forward and put his arm around me, “I’ll find you someone.” he said. I put down the bottle, looked at my watch and told him I had to go. I walked home alone that night. A week later Charles had the girl he promised. A Chinese girl who managed to be my height, and was nice and would warm up to me, or so he claimed. He arranged a date and brought her over. I did not know what to say to him but “Tharles”. When I finally met the girl, she seemed to be everything Charles said she was. She was witty, flirty, and when we finally went to get coffee at her place, a demon in the sack.
I had little to no idea how crazy she was initially, but in hindsight, it was obvious. She was so goddamn flirty, not that that is a bad thing but it was a warning sign. Before we had dinner, she rearranged her utensils with surgical precision. I was too busy staring at her cleavage to pay any real attention to it though. She also subdivided her meal into tiny sections and sectioned off anything that had touched anything else. I suppose it only makes her a neat freak but I should have noticed it had I not been so focused on rebounding.
The sex was indescribable, but in short, it was everything I wanted. I felt that I had finally found a good one. All of that changed when I removed the condom and prepared to throw it away. She instantly grabbed my ass and pulled me backwards, an action that resulted me in losing my grip on the condom to grab my butt. It soared into the air, the contents sickeningly still in the package, and she caught it. I could only gawk as she examined it thoroughly and left the bed. Against all my better instincts, I followed her into the kitchen. She walked over to her freezer and opened it. There was a collection of jars inside, and I stood there, sweaty and dumbfounded as she lifted the condom and removed an empty jar from a cabinet. I could see at least 12 other jars in there, each one with a frozen condom. She stuck Sharpie into her mouth and pulled off the cap, and all I could see were her still shimmering lips. She turned to me to ask my name.
I said nothing. She broke the silence by looking at the condom and noticing a drip. As she clinically looked over the fruit of our labors, I went back into the bedroom and gathered my clothes. My frenzy meant I initially could not find my pants. I realized I left them in the living room. I crept down the stairs into the living room as she examined the condom, silhouetted by the kitchen light. Admittedly, I paused for a second to admire her figure. A second later I was back to terrified, nearly done belting myself when she let out a scream that compounded my fears into sheer panic. She ran up to me, naked, glistening, beautiful, and screaming at the top of her lungs.
She shouted, “I DON’T BELIEVE IN ABORTION, I HAVE TO KEEP THE LITTLE CHILDREN AROUND, AND YOU LEAKED IT!” I stood there speechless; my pants belt clinked as my hands lost their grip. I slowly moved my hand toward my belt, my only defense. Instead of killing me and storing me in little jars in her freezer, she put the tied condom into my hand, and threw me out with a strength that surprised me. It was probably because I did not resist. Outside I listened to her muted shouts for a while before I decided to leave. I stopped to throw the condom into a nearby gutter and kept walking.
She did not know my name and Charles never saw her again either. He moved two days later anyway to be closer to his fiancé. I walked home alone that night.
I hope she did get pregnant.
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