Surprises Under Clothes
Tuesday, December 12th, 2006
This week’s question:
By now, we’ve all seen Britney’s hoo hoo. What’s the most unpleasant surprise you ever found under someone’s clothes?
Next week’s question:
See ya, Rummy. Hate to be ya, Pinochet. Watch your ass, Coach Coughlin. Work, love or life —tell us about a time you knew you were done for…
Your answer goes here (in 100 words or less, please). We’ll post our favorites on the front page of SMITH.
I went home one night with an indie rock guy, all scruffy heroin-skinny dirty-boy, reeking of testosterone. We start making out on the couch, he’s pulling my hair and I am so into him. Then he takes off his pants and he’s wearing frilly panties and a garter belt. Oof. Watta bone-killer.
It’s not so much what I found, but rather what I might have found had I looked. The scene: The tail end of Bobby Melnick’s bachelor party, circa 1986, in an especially seedy Times Square strip club. At some point, a very attractive woman wearing (very little) lingerie jumped on my back and stayed there for several long seconds. I was mildly flattered, but my friends couldn’t stop laughing. Apparently, the aforementioned woman was in fact a man in (very little) drag. I must have missed her/his 5 o’clock shadow. I’m reminded of this episode regularly.
I got my first kiss at a Ziggy Marley concert in Central Park. Her name was B. Arty, a little skanky, dark hair. She grabbed me and did it. We got horizontal on the grass and I put my hands up her shirt and planted my lips on one of the small breasts I revealed. How could I not? There was a ring through the nipple!
She squealed.
“Stop! It’s infected! I just got it!”
I stopped. I sat up. I knew two things:
1) I would use this in a book someday.
2) I wanted to do it again.
My ex’s new bride, a 6 foot tall, size 6 French beauty (bitch!), asked me to buy her a pair of shorts while I was out shopping. Being too nice and too startled to say no, I agreed. I took a pair over to their condo, and she went to try them on right in front of me. Without skipping a beat, she pulled down her skirt, with no panties underneath, and as she stood to pull up the shorts I beheld THE nastiest bush I have ever seen! It spooked me to see such a big, bristled, gnarly, unshorn beard. Since my ex never had a clue what to do with my twat, I smiled picturing him fighting his way through hers.
I once dated a male nurse. Sure it gave me pause, but he was punk, tattooed, and sexy. He used to hang full beer cans from his nipple rings—what could be more revoltingly heterosexual than that? Okay, so there was the small matter of his silky smooth legs, but he swore it was a requirement for cycling. Fine. I’m open-minded; I like cyclists. Know what I don’t like though? Male genitalia as hairless as a newborn naked mole rat. Not a strand from his toes to his eyebrows. Dude! Step away from the razor! No one believes a bit of pube was interfering with your fucking aerodynamics.
The single most unpleasant surprise I ever found underneath someone’s clothes was probably this tenticular, pseudopodial appendage that stuck itself out from betwixt the lips of an otherwise pleasant and intriguing hoo-haa. It kind of reached out to me like that scene from The Abyss between Mary Elizabeth Mastrantonio and the water thing, and when it got close enough, sang in a loud clear voice “when you’re smiling, the whole world smiles with you. Also, my father will come after you with his service revolver. Or a kitchen knife. Whichever one’s closer.” I wasn’t sure which was more shocking—the death sentence or the singing hooch. Later, I realized the singing hooch WAS the death sentence.
what is this problem with how a woman’s bush is supposed to look like? It fightens me that women feel they have to shave their pussy just so they look like their guys favorite porn star, so its one more thing to consume their time and not compete with men.
contrary to popular belief, the shaved vagina is not something inspired by porn. it is just one part of society’s overall trend to try and look younger. from botox to hours spent at the gym to tummy tucks to showering to shaving one’s genitals, we are all trying to re-claim the lost glory days of pre-pubescent innocence.
of course there’s nothing innocent about what women and men are doing with the aforementioned shaved vaginas, but that’s neither here nor there.
A shaved vagina is not natural. Another unnatural trend is the current adulation of The Vagina Monologues. Sorry, but when I hear that title I instantly recall a scene from the film “Gettysburg.” Jeff Daniels as Colonel Chamberlain survives a confederate’s miss-firing pistol. The astonishment of surviving, the joy of being alive, and his hatred of the enemy combine in an explosive expulsion of sound which causes Daniel’s mustache to literally puff up on his lip. Now if that happened in Vagina Monologues then I might be tempted to attend a performance.