The Awkward Hunch

So, yesterday my girlfriend walked in on me masturbating, which was...awesome. She didn't really walk in on me. I mean, she didn't catch me red-handed, so to speak, but it was pretty obvious what was going on. She assessed the situation pretty quickly and then gave me this Jesus-Christ-really? look of total disgust. I heard the office door open, and I immediately went into the Awkward Hunch. Every guy who has ever been caught jerking off knows the Hunch. While sitting at your computer, sifting through endless moral decay, the door suddenly opens, and you hunch over so fast you almost put your face through your keyboard while trying desperately to exit out of the barrage of porn assaulting your computer screen. This is a nearly impossible task, however, because porn sites are the Hydra of the Net: no matter how many you cut down, five more take its place. So, anyway, my girlfriend leaves in disgust, while I am relegated to sitting in a pile of my own shame, a soiled tube sock nestled pathetically between my legs...On the bright side, though, at least she didn't actually see what it was I was jerking off too, which would have been an entirely different fight. There was one time when she did find my Internet History, reading like a grocery list of sexual deviancy. Holy shit, I have never, NEVER, been given a look of such unadultered contempt in all my life. Her eyes glowed with hatred for me. Hatred was the color of her irises. Does anyone know the shame, the complete humilation one feels when someone else (who is not a fan of porn by the way) critiques the porn you look at. And, I should add that the porn was not your basic man-on-girl fuckfest. It was...a lot of it was pretty fucked up. So, basically, I was forced to stand next to her while she visted the sites listed in the History tab. I was born and raised Catholic (but became agnostic after I couldn't find a decent parking spot around my church) and in my 25 years I have never felt so terrible. Then, my girlfriend said to me, "I didn't know you were into this." But she said it in such a way that said to me, "Goddam, you are a piece of shit," and "Had I known you looked at this shit I would have left your ass years ago." Yet, herein lies the problem: I'm not into the porn I look at. Most guys aren't. INTO wasn't the right word. Curious, but not INTO. I'm into music, I go to concerts. I'm into books, I read. But I'm not INTO the porn I watch. I don't want to ram a dildo up a chick until she squirt(my favorite soda, now rendered an obscenity thanks to porn)s 15 feet across a room. I don't want to stick my penis in a vagina that already has 2 penises already in it. I don't want to do anything like that shit. I just want to WATCH people do it. Anyway, I'm definately going to spring for that lock on the office I've been putting off for awhile, and my girlfriend and I are enacting a strict Don't Ask, Don't Tell policy. Ignorance is bliss, especially when it comes to knowing your partner's wank routine. Also, food for thought, I mentioned the tube sock up there. I have a theory that socks where originally invented for clandestine masturbation. Slip it down your pants, shove your junk in it, no messy clean up. But the guy who invented the first dick slips probably left one lying around, and his wife found it, so he had to make up some bullshit story about it going over one's foot.

Random Thought: So, you know those people who are braindead. Just vegetables lying in a hospital room somewhere, hooked up to all these machines. The only reason they are alive is because of some computer. Do you think they would get better if the doctor just unplugged them and plugged them back in really fast?

© Eric Moore - 2010