Thursday, June 16, 2011
Nasty Old Men
I think the closest I will ever feel to being a hot chick is when I worked at the porn shop. I got hit on. A lot. By men. As some of you may know, I’m not gay. Yes, I am serious. Don’t let the smooth taste feel you. But at the porn shop guys would hit on me or stare at me with bad intentions in their eyes.
Now, a certain type of man is attracted to me. In the real world, women who are older than me like me or ones that are younger. Rarely around my age. With guys its old White men. Old White men love me. They wanted a piece of The Chocolate Hammer and for the ones that came in there (pun so not intended) I was just this dark tease that sat at the counter ignoring them. There was nothing like placing magazines on the rack and feeling someone creeping up on you as you stood up.
Old men hit on you in a special way. These nasty bastards would creep up on me and just look for a while out the corner of their eye. I would sigh and try to disappear. It didn’t work. Here is almost verbatim a conversation I’ve had a while ago.
Them: “You new?”
Them: “What’s your name?”
Them: “Like Jordan?”
Them: “When you get off?”
Me: (looks at clock that says 6:10am) “Way later.”
Them: “That’s too bad.”
Me: “No it isn’t.”
You have no idea how many old men I have kicked out the porn shop for touching themselves. Some old men are so old they don’t know that they’re dead. There was this one guy we used to call Lazarus. We called him that because he looked like he rose from the dead and always asked current issue related questions. One time we blew his mind.
Lazarus: “Who is the president?”
Me: “George Bush.”
He looked like he was going to fucking faint. I didn’t mention to him it was George W. Bush. I think he thought he had actually traveled back in time. At least he didn’t play with his withered old wang in the store. This other old man loved Puerto Rican men. Loved them. I wont say his first name here.
Johnson: “Y’all got that Rican’s Freaking? Rican ‘Struction? Big Dick Ricans? Rican’s Freaking 2?”
Old men definitely have a type. And I apparently was the type for men. Old Black men didn’t really like me. Why? I don’t know. Maybe I reminded the old White dudes of all the Black junk they couldn’t get back during the Civil Rights movement. Brings a whole new meaning to “We Shall Over Cum…”