kagablog

“Ginny’s Dad”

“I’ve always felt bad about feeling good.”
  Ginny is moaning again. She’s a trust fund cutie with two shrinks to
help her out of her blues. She flies to Cape  Town every thursday
morning for onion ring therapy. Her dad’s even more depressive than
her, he stands in front of the mirror all day brushing his long silver
hair and hoping out loud that Ginny’s mom will come back to him.
  Ginny asks me to bite her. I do so.
  “I went all hot when you did that.”
  It’s called arousal Ginny.
  “No one ever bit me that hard before.”
  That’s the secret you see, you have to leave tooth prints. Chicks are
hard wired to translate the pain as evidence of passion. It’s easy.
Just hurt them.
  Our waitress is getting impatient with Ginny’s vacillations.
  “I’ll have a glass of pizza and Ginny will have an SMS.”
  “Will that be all sir?”
  “For the moment.”
  When we get back to my place we transgress an entire encyclopedia’s
worth of taboos.
  “What will we do when we’ve broken all the rules?”
  “Mend them.”
  Ginny really does love her jensing. But the orgasms make her feel
guilty about her poor dad at home with his hairbrush going “error error
on the wall.” It’s too silly. But then again, he did supply the
trust fund. Life is always and only about women accepting who they really are.
Until they do it’s merely “never again” followed by vodka and gin.
  Ginny’s actually quite a beauty. The boys all tell her so.
  “It’s nice to be noticed but so disappointing when they fall so fast
and so hard.”
  She would eat me alive if I displayed but the slightest trace of
emotion. I have to lay her hard and lifeless. She comes again and then
I do at last and I tell you I’m knackered. Ginny just keeps on talking,
she’s priceless.
  “I’ve learned from experience that living hedonistically just hurts
you in the end,” she takes a big puff from her doobie, “it’s fun to
play the game but you have to stay in control.”
  When I drop her off at the mansion her dad comes to the front door.
He’s still holding his hair brush, gives me a quizzical look. Ginny
pecks me goodbye.
  “Thanks for a wonderful evening.”
  He shakes the hairbrush at me.
  “Goodbye.”

first published march 2006 by underground window