Seriously Messed Up: A Laugh Out Loud Romantic Comedy

by Luke Young

  3

  For the next few weeks, Brian dated Natalie informally. They did homework together, they ate together in the dining hall, and they even made out a few times, but that was all. There was no removal of clothes or touching of parts or even dry humping. Brian would leave her dorm room, usually bent over at a strange angle and very frustrated. He wanted to see her naked, and he wanted to see her strike that ballet pose while she was naked. He was infatuated with her, and the more she held back physically, the more head-over-heels in love he became.

  Their relationship took a minor step forward three weeks after they started dating when Rob, Brian, Natalie, and three other friends went to a college party at a university about two hours away. At three in the morning, they left the party and returned in an old station wagon with Brian and Natalie lying next to each other in the cargo area. She reached out to touch his hand, and he took her hand, interlocking his fingers with hers. They held hands for the remainder of the ride home with the back of Natalie’s hand resting over Brian’s groin. He didn’t know if she realized it at first, but as his penis began to expand in his pants, he started to feel her pressing against it a little more firmly, which only made it harder. For the rest of the ride home, he hoped she would unzip and pull him out to relieve the pressure, but she never did. Instead she was either asleep or was pretending to be, as she lay next to him. When they arrived at daybreak, Brian offered to walk her to her room. Natalie declined and told him to come over later that day. Brian went home, jerked off, and quickly fell asleep.

  The next morning, Jason, one of the guys who went on the trip, interrogated Brian about the goings on in the back of the wagon as Rob stood near them.

  Jason asked, “So did Natalie give you a little tug back there?”

  “A tug?”

  “A hand job, you idiot!”

  “Not exactly,” Brian said.

  “I heard something going on back there,” Jason said.

  Rob laughed. “Well, what do you call it when a girl presses the back of her hand into it?”

  Brian glared at Rob.

  Jason looked wide-eyed at Brian, then his face took on a serious expression, and he asked, “So she never actually touched it?”

  “No,” Rob answered for his friend.

  “Has she never touched it?”

  “Outside of clothes?” Brian asked.

  “Of course—it’s got to be out to count,” Jason said.

  “Well, then no.”

  “But last night she put the back of her hand on it?” Jason asked.

  “And she pressed on it a little,” Brian said before realizing how lame it sounded.

  Jason smiled at him. “Well in that case it’s called… nothing!” He jumped up and announced loudly as he headed into the bedroom area, “Guys, wait till you hear this!”

  After catching up with Jason, Brian grabbed him by the shoulder. “Don’t be a dick. She said she has a surprise for me tonight.”

  Jason chuckled. “Yeah, maybe you can put your big toe next to her pussy through her clothes.”

  He proceeded to tell the rest of the guys the station wagon story. Brian never should have let it slip; his suite mates would never let him live it down. From then on, that particular sex act—or unsex act—was called the BHJ (for “backhand job”), but some preferred to call it “the untug.”

  4

  Jillian agreed to a blind date with a supposedly great guy who worked with the husband of one of her close friends. Mike had a good job and was a competent tennis player. Years ago, Jillian had put in a tennis court right next to the pool because she loved to play. She played number-one singles on her high school team, and although she wasn’t good enough to earn a spot on her college team, she continued to play at least a few times a month for the past twenty years.

  Mike arrived and Jillian gave him a quick tour of the house and pool area before leading him to the court. He started their date on the wrong foot, by asking, “What did your ex-husband do for a living to afford all this?”

  After glaring at him a moment, Jillian replied, “He didn’t pay for any of this. I did.”

  “You’re a writer, correct?”

  “Romance novels mainly.”

  “Huh,” Mike said as he returned a look that screamed he couldn’t believe writing books could support this type of lifestyle.

  “Marci told me you played on your college team,” she said.

  “I was number one, but don’t worry—I’ll take it easy on you.”

  They started hitting the ball around as a warm-up, and Jillian was easily able to keep up with him. She thought he was a good player, but she figured he must have played at a very small school if he’d been number one on its team.

  From the first point, it became clear to Jillian that Mike would do whatever was necessary to avoid the embarrassment of losing to a woman. He served first and won his game easily. On her serve, she reached game point against him only to have him call two of her serves, which were clearly in, as out. She didn’t take issue with his calls and lost that game on another questionable call. Then he held his serve again, to go up three games to love.

  She decided to play more aggressively by coming to the net after each serve in the fourth game. This strategy worked, and she won her next two service games and broke his serve to bring the set even at three. Despite more questionable calls from her immature opponent, both players held serve to six games all, and Mike’s frustration seemed to be growing. During the tiebreak, Jillian served first. When she called one of his obviously long shots out, Mike again, questioned the call. She reversed it simply to end the match as soon as possible.

  When they reached six points to five in the tiebreak, Jillian came to the net hoping to even the score, but ended up badly out of position. Ignoring his opportunity to go down the line for an easy passing shot, he instead chose to fire a shot into her body. When the ball hit her, Jillian stared at him in disbelief. It didn’t hurt all that much, but it did knock the wind out of her. She couldn’t believe a grown man would do such a thing.

  Grinning widely, he told her she played a good set as she walked to the bench. Still glaring at him, she opened a bottle of water and took a sip as he joined her.

  “Best two out of three?” Mike asked, as he opened his hand for her to pass over the bottle from which she was drinking. After exhaling deeply, she handed him the bottle. He drank from it and attempted to return it.

  She waved him off. “I think I’m done.”

  “Tired?” he asked.

  Jillian shot a look at him as if she wanted to kill him and said sarcastically, “Yeah, I’m too tired.”

  Moments later, they returned to the pool area carrying their racquets, and he asked, “How about one drink before I go?”

  She nodded reluctantly, and he asked, “Do you have a beer?”

  Jillian went into the house, and when she returned with the beer, she found him swimming in the pool. Standing at the edge, she glared at him. “What are you doing?”

  “I was hot,” he answered as he stood in the pool, looking at her. “This feels great. Why don’t you join me?”

  He appeared to be naked, except for a huge black patch around his groin. Squinting, she thought he was wearing a black bathing suit, or he had the most unkempt pubic hair ever on a human being. When she looked closer, she realized it was the latter but asked anyway with a sick expression, “Did you bring a bathing suit?”

  “No,” he replied and then repeated, “Why don’t you join me?”

  “Who gets into someone’s pool naked on a first date?”

  “I was picking up these signals from you on the court. You had this angry, sexy look on your face.”

  “Because I was in pain after you hit me with the ball.”

  “You’re not mad about that, are you?”

  “No, but you acted like a complete ass on the court, and then somehow think that’s an invitation for you to dunk your naked, sweaty ass in my clean pool. Get out!”

 
He looked at her with a grin, and when she didn’t smile back he asked, “Seriously?”

  “Yes. Please, get out and go.”

  “All right,” he said as he unashamedly climbed from the pool with his huge thicket of wet black pubic hair matted down around his unattractive groin. His sizeable gut was protruding enough to add to the overall look. He stood dripping with his hands on his hips as he asked curtly, “A towel?”

  After grunting, she took a sip of his beer and glanced once more at his train wreck of a body before grabbing a towel and tossing it to him. He proceeded to dry his groin first while she stood ten feet from him. She continued to drink the beer, alternating a sip with a grimace, as he lifted his hairy parts while drying off in some obviously misguided attempt to impress her.

  He said, “Maybe that beer will loosen you up a little.”

  “No, it’s merely keeping me from calling the police.”

  Jillian nearly vomited in her mouth when she noticed that after he dried his pubic area, it appeared even hairier than before. She looked away for a moment but then back, to confirm that some of the strands of hair were about six inches long. Then he used the towel to over dry his ass, appearing to shove it in there a whole lot more than was actually necessary.

  “You really don’t want me to stay?” he asked, standing naked and holding the towel.

  After staring at him in disbelief, she placed the beer on the table, pulled her cell phone from her pocket, and pointed it at him with her finger poised on the screen.

  “What are you doing?” he asked with a smile.

  “If you don’t get out of here right now, your Don King super-bush is going viral.”

  “Okay. Okay. Relax! You successful women can be so bitchy.”

  As he dried the hair on his head while standing in full view of her, she pushed the button on the cell phone to snap a picture. He didn’t notice. She needed proof of this to show her friends. He extended the towel to her while she shook her head and made a face as if he were offering her a biohazard.

  “Keep it,” Jillian said. She strolled over, picked up his racquet and all his clothes, calmly walked to the back of the yard, and threw them over the fence.

  “Geez, what’s your deal?” He wrapped the towel around his waist.

  “Oh, now you cover up,” she said sarcastically. Then she pointed to the gate, and he headed for it with her following close behind. She said, “Believe me when I say that I hate to be the one to tell you this, but you are in desperate need of a trim.”

  After shooting her an evil look, he went through the gate. Jillian locked it and headed back to the house while thinking that would be the last blind date she’d allow her friends to arrange. It would also be several days before the image of his nether regions would leave her brain, although she would save the picture for a long time.

  5

  That evening, Natalie’s roommate was away for the night, so she and Brian lay in her bed making out. She allowed him to remove her shirt and bra but not her jeans. He spent a lot of time enjoying her newly unveiled breasts as she ran her fingers through his hair. He tried repeatedly to unbutton her jeans and she stopped him each time. While his hands were all over her body, her hands never went below his shoulders, much to his growing frustration.

  “God, you feel amazing,” he said.

  “Oh, so do you,” she said breathlessly.

  “I’m so hot for you right now.”

  “So am I.”

  “Well, why…” he began before thinking better of it.

  “‘Why what?” she asked.

  Aching for her, Brian looked down at his straining groin before glancing up at her face. “Why, uh, aren’t you touching me?”

  “I am touching you.”

  “Why aren’t you touching me… anywhere else?”

  She looked innocently at him. “Oh, I can’t do that.”

  “Why not?”

  “I can’t. I just can’t touch it right now, because…”

  Natalie stared at the ceiling a moment, sat up in bed, and pulled her legs to her chest. Sitting up next to her, he looked sympathetically at her. “You can tell me. Really, what is it?”

  She paused and then looked at him. “I, uh, when I was younger, there was this thing that happened, and now I just can’t.”

  He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and looked devastated. “Jesus, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know. Do you want to talk about it?”

  “No, I, uh…”

  “Is there anything I can do?”

  “I just need time. Will you wait for me?” Natalie asked as she looked away from him toward the door.

  “As long as it takes.”

  She turned back at him with a smile. “You mean it?”

  “Yes, I’m crazy about you,” Brian said.

  “Will you stay and just hold me all night?”

  Nodding, he gave her a compassionate smile.

  6

  Jillian had a date that night with James. It would be their third date together, and this guy seemed like long-term boyfriend material. They met through an Internet dating site. The plan was for James to pick her up and take her to dinner. They left the remainder of the night open to other possibilities. She was attracted to him so Jillian thought she’d invite him in afterward, but probably not go all the way. It had been eight months since her last sexual encounter, if you could even call it that, and she was starting to long for the touch of a man. She didn’t want to sleep with just anyone; she was waiting for the right guy.

  James arrived with a bag full of Chinese food and carrying a soft briefcase. She was surprised with the change of plans but was a fan of Chinese, so she didn’t object. She brought out some plates, and they ate in the dining room. As she spooned out the food, James pulled three books from his bag and set them on the chair next to him. Jillian couldn’t see the titles and didn’t ask about the books as she poured them each a glass of wine. She figured he’d talk about the books when he was ready. They conversed about the usual stuff, and she forgot all about the books. When she returned to the table after clearing the plates, she found he had the titles arranged neatly in front of him.

  She could see the spines of each book, and she read the titles of the first two in horror. They were all relationship books. One was How to Strengthen Your Relationship, another was Relationship Secrets, and she didn’t bother reading the third. James looked at her as he held his folded hands over the books. “Where do you want to do this?”

  “Do what?” she asked, confused.

  “Work on our relationship,” he snapped.

  Jillian wondered exactly what relationship he was referring to. We’ve been on two dates and this thing tonight, whatever the hell this is.

  He asked, “Want to do it here or on the sofa?”

  “Sofa.” She filled her wine glass to the top and slowly walked into the great room and sat down. James sat next to her—right next to her—and placed two books by his leg. He opened the third to a page he had marked with a Post-it note.

  She took a long sip of her wine. “What do you think we need to work on?”

  He announced, “I think all relationships need work. Don’t you agree?”

  “Well, yes. I guess,” she replied hesitantly.

  She sat speechless, drinking wine as he proceeded to go through the pages marked with Post-its. After five pages, she refilled her glass, and after five more, she brought the bottle over. By the time they had finished the bottle, James had reviewed what seemed like forty pages of lists, charts, and relationship secrets. She desperately wanted to strangle him. Instead, she hoped for a house fire, so she wouldn’t have to get her hands dirty. While he droned on, she resorted to thinking about how she’d like to remodel the room. During his presentation, when he looked to her for confirmation, she politely nodded and said, “Uh-huh.”

  After two more grueling pages, she checked the time. Feeling as if they had been going at it for at least an hour, she was shocked to discover that they were only abou
t thirty minutes in at that point. When he picked up the second book, and she saw what looked to be about a hundred Post-it- marked pages, she sprang to her feet. “I’ll be right back. I have to go to the bathroom.”

  She stayed in the bathroom, which was just off the hallway between the great room and the kitchen, for about five minutes. Then it hit her and her lips curled up into a smile. She returned to him, clutching her stomach, but he was glued to book number two and didn’t seem to notice.

  As James began to review the highlights of the first page, he glanced over at Jillian then eyed her with concern. “Are you okay?”

  “I have a little stomach ache.”

  He gave her a sympathetic smile. “Oh, I had explosive diarrhea last week. It was horrible. You don’t have that, do you?”

  She looked at him, a little horrified. “Well, no, but I—”

  “That’s good,” James interrupted. “You should take half an Imodium and a tablespoon of Pepto. I think I have Imodium in the car if you—”

  “No, thanks. I’ll be okay,” she said in a tired voice.

  “Let’s finish going through the text later then.”

  Jillian let a tiny smile escape from her lips. “I think that would be best.”

  “Let’s do just one more thing tonight, though,” James said as he reached into his briefcase and pulled out a stack of papers. Separating two stapled documents, he handed her a copy and kept one for himself.

  “What’s this?” she asked hesitantly.

  “A relationship quiz that I put together from the books and some Internet sites.”