“You need raunchy wild sex with a big black woman,” George told me this morning very matter-of-factly after drinking two of my precious Cokes. “Now Pookie! She used to ride me like a bitch in heat. She would get all jiggly, wiggly, and giggly on top of me. Used to get me so excited. I would bust a nut all up in dat shit.”
“Great!” I thought. “I am getting a raunchy lecture on sex from George with Pookie as the protagonist.”
“George, you can be so vulgar sometimes,” I replied disgustedly.
“WHAT!?” George exclaimed and asked as he followed me into the kitchen. I was getting a soda. “You need to get laid. It would solve a lot of your mental health issues. Men screw. It is what they do.”
I couldn’t help but laugh and giggle like a school kid at George’s last statement. If sex could cure schizophrenia, then I would be finding ways to pay for it. Psychiatry would be turned on end. And Dad would be bringing women to my front door.
George then reached into my fridge to pull out a left over piece of cold pizza. He was eating as he explained to me how to entice a woman into bed.
“You’ve got to be subtle,” he told me. “Women like it naughty and nasty, but you’ve got to go slow at first.”
All I could think of was all the times my ex-wife used to tell me to talk dirty to her when we were making love in bed. I smiled and got me a piece of cold pizza as well. I stood there eating as I listened for ten or more minutes on how to get demure and sexy women to do your bidding in bed. George is so full of shit sometimes it’s hilarious. And he’s serious about it!!! He means well, though, in his own way. He’s the stereotypical working class “guy” friend.