Page 48 of The Fed Sex Man

“Okay.” I raised my index finger. “If you told Jenny that you wanted her to dress up like a schoolgirl, do you think she’d do it?”

“Chick’s a freak, I already told ya. Yeah, she’d do it.”

“Alright. If you told her you wanted her to dress up like a schoolgirl and dance in the hallway while singing that song, do you think she’d do it?”

“What part of ‘she’s a freak’ don’t you understand? If I told that chick to poke a pickle up her butt while she ate a pineapple pizza and tap danced like Bing fuckin’ Crosby in a rainstorm, she’d do it.”

Sadly, he was probably right. Making my point wasn’t going to come easily if I continued to use analogies.

I forced a sigh and shook my head. “We’re friends, right?”

“More like brothers, why?”

“I introduced you to the cowgirl, right?”

He tipped the neck of his beer bottle toward me. “Sure did.”

“Do you appreciate it?”

“Sure do.”

“In return, grant me this wish. Don’t tell Jo that she reminds you, or me for that matter, of Garber? Can you do that for me? You know, because you’re so appreciative.”

He clanked the neck of his bottle against mine. “All you had to do was ask.”

I let out a dramatic sigh. “Glad that’s over.”

He pushed his chair away from the table, looked me over, and then crossed his arms. “I got a question.”

“I’m all ears.”

“When you two are going at it, do you have her wear the glasses, or take ‘em off?”

“She leaves them on.”

“Figures.” He scoffed. “Leaves ‘em on because she’s blind as a fuckin’ bat, or leaves ‘em on because you tell her to?”

“She leaves them on because I ask her to,” I replied. “I don’t tell her to do anything.”

“Okay, Mister Congeniality.” He leaned forward and arched an eyebrow. “My question is this. She doesn’t ask you why you want her to leave the glasses on? Doesn’t question your weird hang-ups?”

“It’s not a weird hang-up.”

“If I asked Jenny – or whatever her name is – to leave her boots on, you’d say I was a weirdo or ‘an idiot’ or whatever. Leaving the glasses on is a hang-up. Admit it.”

“It’s a preference.”

“What. Fucking. Ever. You like chic geeks and you always have. Flock to ‘em like flies to turds.” He looked away for an instant, then appeared to have an epiphany. “Okay, when you tell what’s-her-name to leave her glasses on while she slobs your knob, she doesn’t ask you why you have such preferences?”

“She hasn’t yet.”

“If she does, what are you going to tell her?”

“I’ll tell her I’m attracted to girls with big bold glasses.”

He dismissed my response with a wave of his hand. “You, my friend, are the idiot.”

I wasn’t attracted to Jo because she reminded me of anyone. I was attracted to her because she was strikingly beautiful. The similarities between her and Garber were coincidental. The glasses were nothing more than an added bonus.