One Little Lie

I took a look at the results of The Georgia Straight’s sex survey on the recommendation of a reader.  There were a few interesting results, although they emphasize it was not a scientific poll.  One thing that stood out is the few percent of people who have sex more than thirty times a month, or more than once a day.  Even more interesting was the fact that 5.3% of married women did, while only 0.7% of married men did.  Hmmm…

What else is there?  Have you ever blatantly told a lie to persuade a person to go to bed with you?  No, not me.  Oh, wait a minute.  There was that one time…

Shortly after arriving in London, I realized the English had a serious attitude problem when it came to Canada and Canadians.  Sure enough, I came across a book that listed things that were ‘naff’, or unfashionable.  It included things you shouldn’t say, do, wear, or be.  It declared that Canada and Belgium were ‘naff’.  By contrast, in those waning years of the Thatcher era, they had America on the brain.  Maggie had been promising them for years that it was “going to be just like in America”.

One night, I was in a pub on Seven Sisters Road, I believe, just across the street from a theatre that had been a popular concert venue in the 60s and 70s, where Bowie and others had played.  There was a sort of early club in the pub, with live music, DJ, fun decor, oilwheels, and lighting.

I spotted a pretty girl who really appealed to me.  She wasn’t very receptive when I approached her, at first.  Then I decided to try an experiment.  I told her I was American.  A big smile came across her face.  You know all those enemies of America who call Britain “America’s whore”?  They’re right.  It’s a Bangkok hooker with “FUCK ME USA” painted on her back.

We went back to my place and had a great time.  We discovered, among other things, that she couldn’t pee and give oral sex at the same time.  We spoon slept, waking up perfectly positioned for more.  It was great.  The chemistry was great.  I felt great.  I really liked her and, when she told me about some carnival or fair she was going to that day and asked if I’d like to come along, I wanted to say yes.  But, I couldn’t, because it was all a lie.  I quietly said that, no, I wouldn’t really be into it.

The truth was, I didn’t care where she was going.  I wanted to accept her invitation and spend the day with her.  I walked her to the door and watched her walk out of my life.

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