What a Nice Guy by Phil Torcivia

Tuesday, December 20, 2011

Do you want to know a secret?

“This is fun. Tell me something about you that nobody else knows, Hank.”
“Are you sure?”
“Of course.”
“All right. While riding the commuter train, I like to put on sunglasses and stare at the chests of strange women, picturing how their breasts look.”
“OK, that’s creepy.”
“Ah, you see, it’s only creepy depending on the woman. As long as she is between eighteen and sixty, it’s fine …”
“Not really.”
“… if she’s also attracted to me.”
“Oh.”
“Seriously. If she’s attracted to me, she’ll find it flattering and possibly stimulating.”
“And if she’s not?”
“How am I supposed to know if a stranger is attracted to me? It’s just some harmless imagination on my part.”
“Still creepy.”
“Fine. Well, you asked. Your turn.”
“I like to eat dry cereal straight from the box while I watch TV.”
“Jesus.”
“What?”
“That’s a fucking secret nobody knows?”
“I’m a private person.”
“You suck at this game.”
“I do not.”
“Fine, I’ll continue with my thing until you get the hint. I stare at the boobs and wonder how lopsided they are and which one is bigger. I wonder if they’re O-shaped or U-shaped. I guesstimate the size and color of the areolas. I wonder if they have tan marks or moles.”
“This is how you spend your commute?”
“A-firm-a-tit … I mean, affirmative.”
“Sick.”
“If I told you my secret was that I spend my commute playing Words with Friends or checking if my retirement fund has reached zero yet, how exciting would that be?”
“I can bring myself to orgasm by squeezing an orthopedic pillow between my thighs.”
“…”
“Well, Hank?”
“I’m stunned.”

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