The first Weebles guest blogger!

At long last, I finally got my ass in gear and extended invites to some bloggers to guest post here at Fear No Weebles.

For our inaugural guest post, I am pleased to present the excellent The Unbearable Banishment, all the way from Blogger.com!  I discovered his blog through our very own Daisyfae—thanks, girl—and thought he would be an ideal person to kick off the festivities.  Go check out his blog, you won’t be sorry.

So without further ado, please enjoy this tragi-comic post, entitled:

Clueless Young Love

When I think back to my early conquests, the breadth of my naiveté regarding the sweet science of love is almost too astonishing to believe. I hung out with a clumsy, unattractive and unpopular bunch so there were never any in-depth discussions about seduction or technique. For me, it was an arduous learning process.

For a good long while, I mistakenly thought that you got a girl to sleep with you through insistent begging. I thought that the game of love was to wear down a woman’s resolve until she finally capitulated. Imagine my surprise when I discovered that haranguing was not considered a legitimate aspect of foreplay. During that time, I missed a lot of opportunities. A lot. I was unaware of the women who were willing to and, in fact, wanted to sleep with me. But I realize it now. Too late! And as Bukowski said, “There’s nothing worse than too late.”

* * *

The first time I had sex, she whispered, “You can do it.” But the DASTARDLY DEED had already been DONE. Admittedly, an inauspicious debut. My first girlfriend had the temperament of a sea monster, which certainly didn’t help matters.

* * *

Early on, I used condoms that were about as thick as a garden hose. I didn’t know anything about lamb skins and sensitivity. I was mortified that I had to buy them at all! I just wanted to get in and out of the drugstore as quickly as possible without asking, or being asked, any questions.

The condoms robbed me of all sensation. So much so, that often times, I couldn’t finish. Occasionally, I’d just yank the damn thing off, toss it to the side and charge ahead. Admittedly, in retrospect, a terrible idea. When I think of all the unprotected sex I had, it’s a miracle I never had to deal with an unwanted pregnancy. Or worse.

* * *

I once read an article by a woman who said her boyfriend was so emotionally overwhelmed by sex that he routinely wept afterwords. She found this romantic and touching. So the next time I slept with my girlfriend, I tried to cry but my heart just wasn’t in it. My blubbering sounded fake and ridiculous and insincere. My girlfriend asked if I was having a mental breakdown. We broke up soon thereafter.

* * *

Once upon a time, I was making out. I got up and put on a CD by Kenny G. I didn’t like his music very much, but I thought it would be romantic. That’s what I had read somewhere. About two songs in she stopped kissing me, sat up and yelled, “My GOD! Would you PLEASE turn that OFF!”

* * *

I faked an orgasm once. The sex became tedious and went on for far longer than it should have, so I decided to end it by faking an orgasm. I believe she was equally relieved it was over. I did us both a big favor.

* * *

We tumbled into bed and cranked-up the Bose radio on her nightstand. A simulcast from Carnegie Hall was being broadcast. The Cleveland Orchestra was well into Beethoven’s 9th. As those last few bombastic notes played out, at that exact same instant, I achieved my Moment of Glory. There was a quiet pause, I exhaled, and the Carnegie Hall audience erupted into a thunderous ovation. The bedroom was filled with it. My girlfriend under me started laughing hysterically. I didn’t think it was that funny.

* * *

Many years ago, on a warm summer night, we sat in the rooftop garden of a brownstone in downtown Brooklyn with the nighttime Manhattan skyline as the backdrop. To our left, the Statue of Liberty glowed her amorous blue/green. The World Trade Center was alight and we could see the Brooklyn Bridge stanchions with their beautiful cathedral window cutouts bathed in soft, ornamental flood lights. She put her hand on my cheek, leaned forward and kissed me…

I thought I’d end with a fond memory.

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