Baby Jesus

A few years ago, I dated a guy named Brian. I was living in Minneapolis, he was living in Neenah. Things didn't go as smoothly as I'd planned, but we remained friends.

A few months later, I started living at his duplex. It wasn't the ideal situation, it was borne of cars breaking down and having no other choice, but it did the trick. They could say they were living with someone who had a job, and I had a place to stay (and sometimes a ride to work). It was ideal. I could also finance their alcohol purchases.

One time, I came home from work to find the front door locked. It was unusual, because a)usually at least one person was home, as they were all unemployed, and b)we didn't lock the door when we were out. I shrugged it off, and knocked, suspecting that someone had accidentally gotten plastered and locked it due to paranoia.

The knob made that clicky-unlocky-noise, and I opened it up. I saw Brian running up the stairs, thought he'd probably been making sweet love to himself, and commenced playing a video game for a few hours.

About an hour later, I succumbed to my bladder and went upstairs to pee. On my way through, I noticed that Brian's door was open, and that he was sleeping on his bed, curled up to a porno mag. My thoughts? "Awww." I peed and went back downstairs.

Jon and Dan happened by, and I told the story of how I was almost locked out. They wanted to know why - they knew immediately that it was odd that the door was locked. I tried to say it with subtlety, but it didn't come off right. Eventually I told them, as delicately as possible, "Um, I think Brian was.. busy.

Brian chose that moment to wake up and come down the stairs. "Yeah, she interrupted Whack-Off Time*."

And here I thought he'd be embarassed. One of the many lessons I learned regarding males. You never have to explain to another male why you were masturbating.

*edited when I was sober, now includes accurate dialogue.