31
Mar
10

Diplomacy begins at home…with your jumpoff…

By all accounts, my friend, Dominic, is the stuff clitoral tumescence is made of.

He’s tall, good looking, well built, clever, talented.

In short: he could get it.

And he does.

He “gets it” in droves.

Mass quantities of “it” has been “got” by my boy.

So, as you might imagine, I was more than shocked—and truthfully, tickled—when my friend, the life-sized
panty magnet, called in a state of alarm, yesterday.

It seems that Dominic, while caught up in the primal throes of passion with his relatively new NSA ladyfriend, had—howshallwesay—“finished” before his company had really “started.”

But that wasn’t the funny part.

Wait.

Fuck it.

That was definitely a big part of the “funny.”

It wasn’t, however, the funniest part.

Rather unexpectedly, his little buxom dish had quite a mouth on her. And, not in the good way that made him hot for her in the first place.

More in the, “Dude, are you serious?” way.

And that’s a direct quote.

“Dude, are you serious?”

What followed was a veritable lambasting of Dominic’s ego.

Like, this bitch spared no expense.

She went all out on how “below average” Dominic was (btw, Dom and I had to settle on “below average,” as he regarded my colorful—and I thought, helpful—barrage of adjectival language a mite insensitive).

Now, while I laughed throughout the entirety of Dominic’s tortured retelling—and if I’m to be completely honest, for a good while after he’d hung up—his story did give me pause.

You see, I’ve long been an advocate of the truth with respect to these things. Sex is not theater, therefore its participants need not fancy themselves actors. Just because sex necessitates that one perform with someone (most times), it doesn’t necessarily follow that one be compelled to perform for someone. Besides, most of us spend so much of our waking lives sheathed in one form of falsehood or another. People should be truthful when they’re naked. It’s only right.

So right. The proverbial Meg Ryan “fake it” of lore should be cast aside.

But hottdamn, does it have to be at the expense of diplomacy?

At one point, this bitch told Dominic, “I mean, if it’s bad, it’s bad.”

Where I come from, that’s a punchinthemouth-worthy offense.

The problem, however, is, that Dominic, and indeed, the Dominics of this world, has too-long crested on a wave of dickyoudownability. His self-propelled swag factor has skyrocketed to unquantifiable proportions. And, in all fairness, this humbling was long overdue.

Not to mention the fact that the flip side of a Dominic—let’s call him a “Larry”—has far too long skated on a sea of female faked orgasm benevolence. The Larrys of this world swear on the souls of their dead mothers that they are putting a hurtin’ of the first water on that ass. When, really, they’re just revving up ample fodder for girlfriend brunches—and, might I add, this blog.

Now, as I’ve suggested, both of these men have ego issues. Most men any of us want to sleep with do. The difference between them is simple, however. Dominic had an off day. Larry’s life is an endless succession of off days. Dominic you want to invite back for a second go. Conversely, Larry can go out to the desert alone and die.

But bad behavior cannot be rewarded or tolerated. And if you give Dominic a gold star for his pisspoor performance, he’s only a few more “Oh shit! Oh shit! Oh shit! Ahhhhhhhhh!!!!! Damn, girl. My bad”s from being a Larry.

Please know, that an incapable jumpoff soon ceases to be a jumpoff at all.

That shit’s called a “husband.”

So, we are confronted with the competing quandaries: “How do you deal with your Dominic when he performs like a Larry?” vs. “How to keep a Larry from leaving your house feeling like a Dominic?” Bear in mind, we want to do all of this without getting hit.

Here’s how it’s done.

1. What you want to say: “That was WACK.” “Are you SERIOUS?” “What. The. Fuck.”
What you should say: “Huh.”

Now, note that the “Huh” wasn’t followed by a question mark, but rather, a period. It is said with a degree of levity. It conveys to your listener a sense of bewilderment and surprise, as opposed to confusion and dismay. Its efficacy lies in its brief communication that something, indeed, is off. That there is, in fact, a problem. And that since ya’ll have both undressed, started and finished in the span of 6 minutes (sorry Dom), that problem is, in all likelihood, his bullshit performance.

2. What he’s going to say: “I’m so sorry.” “This has never happened to me before.” “Damn.”
What you should say: “ Mmmhmm.”

Now, be careful with this one. You are going to want to go with that snarky black girl, old, Aunt Jemima, southern Baptist, “Mmmmmhmmmm.” That is NOT the right one. Yours is a light, matter of fact, two second staccato. Though brief, it speaks volumes. It says to your listener, “I, too, acknowledge your shortcomings (that was almost too easy), and agree that the situation in which we find ourselves—the one characterized by your patent inability to perform the most basic of tasks on this ass I am so freely giving you—is complete bullshit.”

3. What you want to say: “I wasn’t even close.” “What are you, thirteen?” “Didn’t you know what you were coming over for?”
What you should say: Nothing. Wordlessly put on your clothes.

Now, it is imperative that you start to get dressed first. Feel free to take your time in your ministrations, however. Sitting on the bed buck nekkid and ashamed is going to make him feel like a little bitch. And that’s exactly what he is for wasting your time with his prepubescent bullshit.

Ladies-

Do not do not do not do NOT engage him in a dialogue about this shit. Because:
1. He already knows what the fuck he did. There is no victory in flogging a dead horse. Or a worthless penis, for that matter.

2. He’s going to want reassurance. He actually wants you to tell him that it’s okay. Now, maybe if this is a man who you love, or your husband, maybe it really is okay. Maybe it’s a hapless fluke. But if this man is a jumpoff, you should be incensed. And you know what? It is NOT okay. If you go to a restaurant and order food, and what is brought to you is a heaping pile of prematurely ejaculating penis, what are you gonna do? That’s right. Send that raggedy, unacceptable shit back.

3. You know what? Maybe it’s you. Maybe he got bored and wanted to end it. Maybe he got sidetracked by the third nipple he never saw rising up from your sternum, and in a flash, his disgust rendered him incapable of progressing.

4. You could get upset and talk crazy. This will, in all likelihood, make him upset and talk crazy. Consider his already-vulnerable state of mind—brought on by his triflingness. Listen, if #3 is the case, when you talk wild, this dude WILL tell you about the role you played in his penile fail. And believe you me, the last person you want talking about your birth defect and cottage cheese ass is the cantfuckSOB who just ruined your whole night. Plus, you know….he could hit you (which is entirely counterintuitive to this course of action).

So there you have it.

Easy enough, right?

And he’ll get the point, and simultaneously avoid catching a charge.

Cause really, that’s what life is all about. Balance.

Balance and not having your upper lip all swollen.

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15 Responses to “Diplomacy begins at home…with your jumpoff…”


  1. 1 Earvin Vaughn
    April 1, 2010 at 12:04 am

    Classic!! You continue to paint masterpieces…

  2. 2 jen
    April 1, 2010 at 2:44 am

    if you are not writing a book at this very moment, you are wasting time.

    • 3 Donn
      November 5, 2010 at 1:19 pm

      No she’s not! She’s being read, and appreciated.

      As somebody who isn’t bad at this myself, and who doesn’t particularly need to get paid doing it….well, as my friend says: yeah, that’s it. Take the thing you love; make it the thing you do for a living…and kill it.

      See, we writers know something of the writing life. And too many people who do it for a living have way too little edited, watered-down shit to show. Meanwhile we are having fun; which if you do not believe is the purpose of life, do yourself a favor, check out NOW, and come back as someone who does. You’ll, well, have a better time.

      Just sayin’, on behalf of those of us who are constantly hearing this from our friends who hate writing and think that if you CAN do it, you NEED to get paid or you are wasting your time. (Some of the things they do for fun you would have to pay me – millions – to do.)

      If she’s not wasting our time, she’s not wasting hers.

  3. 4 uplateerr
    April 1, 2010 at 5:28 am

    please tell me u’re on twitter. i need daily tweets.

  4. 6 @NyceBryce
    April 1, 2010 at 3:59 pm

    I mean sometimes you got a fully loaded AK with the extended clip and lick shots all night long.

    Sometimes you have a .45, less ammo, but you can still let off powerful rounds of ammo sure to take care of your target.

    Sometimes you got a 9 and the shit jams.

    Either way you’re still packing heat.

    In the end she got busted and he still wins.

    Selfish as it may be thats just how the game goes.

    • April 1, 2010 at 4:13 pm

      -derek
      -jamal
      -evan
      bryce
      -michael

      • 8 @NyceBryce
        April 1, 2010 at 6:25 pm

        mmmmhhhmmmmm

        What’s your twitter name? I usually have a three week waiting period before I follow somebody to ensure their tweets don’t suck- but I will grandfather you in on the basis of the dopeness of your blog.

  5. 9 Publius
    April 2, 2010 at 10:44 pm

    Not your best post. This is sort of a tired topic, no?

  6. 10 Newbie6
    April 6, 2010 at 2:08 pm

    HILARIOUS! I cant wait till you write a novel

  7. April 7, 2010 at 1:44 am

    hilarious. this is why i live by the rules (with jumpoffs) always be on your “A” game even more so than someone you might care about.

  8. 12 curt
    April 14, 2010 at 5:58 pm

    you know what… this happens to the best of us… My main MAIN woman.. I mean, the woman I loved for years, I did this to.. we hadn’t done it in a while as part of one of our “off” stretches and I was so happy to finally be back up in it, it was like BLADOW!!! in like 6 minutes… not personal, her stuff is the ish, what can I say?! and yep, she hit me with the “are you serious?!” line. did I feel like a punk? sure! So what did I do? Rolled her sexy ass over and ate her out for like an hour until i was ready to go again… problem solved..

    … tell Dom to turn lemons into lemonade my friend…

  9. 14 Donn
    November 5, 2010 at 1:13 pm

    The flip side of this, of course: putcherclozeon, bitch. One of us got his.

    Which is what I’d say if someone like her ever happened to me.

    Look, it is all about being…see, here’s the problem. One doesn’t have to confuse love and sex to be sensitive. And if one isn’t sensitive to one’s partner’s inevitable failings – like shit it smells down there and my mouth ain’t going down there but at least I’ll be nice about it and no you ain’t all that but my penis doesn’t have to see you and goddamit that stain you put on my jeans thigh when *you* came all over *me* (OK I love it when women do that but sheesh…oh and OK explaining it is fun the first four times) and…where was I…?

    If you can’t be more sensitive than the above about it, gotta say, you deserve whatever you get, and may Larrys be your eternal lot.

    So no. Ladies, be gentlemen. And you might get more Doms.

  10. 15 Donn
    November 5, 2010 at 8:36 pm

    I should add, having read additional adventures of yours, that one of your male friends (you have some perceptive male friends) hit it right on the nose: women create the kind of men they loathe. I’d want to do something about that if I got loathing enough men.


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