Gross

Oh, how we love sharing stories of dates gone wrong. How we love to spin yarns about how our date was totally weird or icky. It’s a great past time for us. It makes us laugh and realize how lucky we are to have great friends with whom to share our great stories…..that is until you realize that one of your friends is the icky date all the other people are talking about.

I had an icky friend. It was weird and uncomfortable to listen to some of her stories because I really don’t think that she realized that she was grossing me out to the extent that she really was. The stuff that she would do on a first date with someone she had just met…..EW! Oh how sorry I felt for her at first, and then she just kept telling me these horrendous stories. A few of them actually had a negative effect on my eating habits. Example: I used to love orange creamsicles and I would enjoy them regularly. After one particularly nauseating story from my icky friend, however, I have been unable to eat one. I’m five years on the creamsicle wagon, folks. It was really that gross.

I guess I could tell you some of those horror stories. I could either hook you or horrify you. I think I’ll keep my big mouth shut for now. You don’t need to know that on a first date with a guy she never intended to see again because she found him nauseating, my icky friends allowed the guy to sit on her face while she (BLEEPED) out his (BLEEP) while he (BLEEPED BLEEP). I mean WOW. She really did that and for some odd reason she felt it would be entertaining for me to tell me this. How was I to explain to her that she is only to entertain me with stories of icky dates, not with stories that proved how gross she was.

Okay, okay. Those BLEEPS were placed in the previous paragraph for your protection. I’m sure you can use your imagination. Think of the worst thing possible and you’re probably right about what really happened. Oh, and the creamsicle story? No, I want to live with the peaceful knowledge that there are millions of people out there enjoying that beautiful dessert. I can no longer eat it and I am jealous of those of you out there who can put your mouth around one and not have that imagery plaguing your brain. It’s a curse. Be thankful I’m sparing you.

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