I once dated a girl named Liz. She had beautiful wavy auburn hair, and would never wear white socks. She didn’t shave her armpits, and had a little bit of her cute auburn hair there too. She was quite short and worked as a waitress. Being so short and carrying trays of food might be why she had such a nice round butt.
I met her through a mutual friend named Mary. Mary, Liz, and I were gonna all move to California together after Mary’s last semester (which was the current semester). Until then, Liz and I had some time to get to know each other better (since we had met about a week earlier). We decided to go camping in northern Wisconsin.
I brought a pony keg of Heineken and she brought the food. It took us a while to pick a lake to camp by, and it was dark by the time we set up our tent. So, we did our drinking after dark while sitting by the campfire. I didn’t realize how drunk I was because I hadn’t gotten up most of the evening. When I drunkenly tried to get romantic she politely declined. But, we did fall asleep spooning in the tent.
When we woke up the next morning Liz’s back was soaking wet.
I said, “well, maybe you just sweated a lot.”
“But I smell like urine and your crotch is all wet” she responded.
It was apparent that I had wet the Liz.
No, we did not have other clothes to change into. But we dried out eventually. Our romantic getaway weekend was off to a great start.
Liz had brought us artichoke heart sandwiches and cantaloupe for lunch; she’s a vegetarian. While scaling a pine tree together, I realized I needed to stop climbing and get down because my protein-deprived arms were shaking. Life pro tip: vegetarians need protein and B12.
I was standing on the beach while she was straddling a tree stretching over the lake,
when she asked me:
“Do you ever feel like you are having sex with nature?
I couldn’t think of anything to say.
She continued, “Like you’re giving something and getting something back?”
I wasn’t sure. But probably not.
A few weeks later she made the move to California. I didn’t go. I felt that she would eventually break my heart. Also, I didn’t have a job or a place to live lined up. Last I heard she is still living out there in a homemade mud houses community.
Not moving with her was one of the few times that I made a logical decision in that period of my life. But since then I haven’t been able to find Mary. She still has my “Code of the Woosters” book by P.G. Wodehouse and I miss it dearly. If you read this Mary, I will give you back your 60’s Dance Party, and Motown Classics CDs for that book. Please, its one of my prize possessions. It’s that really old orange hardcover.
This is simply hilarious.