High school. Need I say more? For those of you too old to remember, high school sucks for about 70% of us. Actually, I take that back, it sucks for everyone, some kids just hide it better. Yes, even the popular ones. Their lives suck the most because they can’t even admit it. Cheerleaders all think they are too fat, jocks all wish they had bigger dicks and the smart kids will never be quite smart enough.
I’m no different. But then again I’m pretty average. In some ways. I’ll use the Romy and Michelle scale. I’m not in the A group, but I’m definetly not in the C group. I live in Cotford with my mom Laurie. Have you seen Desperate Housewives? I’ll assume you have and I’ll skip the boring descriptions of our upper middle class lifestyle. House too big for just two people, ditto on the car. Oh, by the way, my mom looks just like that woman from the show, whatsherfuckingname…Eva Longgorilla. You know who the fuck I mean, the Brunette that is on the cover of every damn women magazine in the world as regular as a period. Not kidding, as soon as that show took off, we couldn’t go anywhere without hearing, ‘hey, do you know who you look like?’. That shit gets old fast, but I guess there are worse people you could look like.
You’ve probably noticed by now that I’ve only been using we and us. My dad took off on my mom when I was 7. Exactly why I don’t remember. I tell myself I don’t give a shit why, but I do think about him sometimes. Mostly I just remember him sitting and reading. Exciting, right? He was way older than my mom when they got married so I guess it was doomed from the start. My mom was a daisy fresh 19 year old virgin and my dad was already pushing 50. I’ll give you two guesses why he married her. The last thing he ever said to me before he left was that I was the man of the house now and that I should take care of mom. Man of the House? I was 7 you asshole! I didnt want to be the man of anything, much less an entire house! Wait. have I even told you my name yet? I’m Robert. I’m 16, blonde, and I live in Cotford with my mom laurie. There.
Let me tell you more about my mom, less about my asshole dad and less about me. Remember I said that when my parents got married my mom was a daisy fresh virgin? I didn’t make that up. She told me that, and those were her exact words. My mom is very open about sex. She told me the Virgin thing one time on the way to the dentist. The story itself had nothing to do with dentry, in fact I have no clue how we got talking about it in the first place, but the point I’m making is that she always wants to talk about sex like it’s no big deal. She’s always trying to get me to talk about everything! I always just tell her that I’ll talk when I have something worth saying, but then she wants to talk about how I never want to talk about anything. I’ll get to why I don’t want to talk in a minute. We’ve been living just the two of us for 9 years, and she doesn’t get out much, so I guess it must be hard not having anyone to talk to. Did I mention women always want to talk? The reason she doesn’t get out much is because she has an important job at a title agency or something. Real estate, not songs. Anyway, she pretty much works all the time. Except weekends. She is important enough at the office to draw the line at Friday 5:00pm exactly. She puts her phone in her top drawer, and her laptop collects dust until Monday morning, because I guess she thinks we need special time together. One time, a new girl at the office called our home phone on a Saturday evening frantic about some big deal or whatever, Monday evening that girl was working in the mail room. Weekends are “our time”. I know, you are about to fucking cry, right? Anyway, you’d think that with a big, important, high paying job like that she’d be some sort of frigid ice queen, right? Wrong. If Victoriaas Secret had a secret preferred shoppers club, my mom would be the grand wizard. I have seen her panty drawer, and it is vast. Thats all I’m gonna say about that. But she’s no slut either. She hasn’t had a date in years that I can recall. Yeah, she did the rebound thing early on, but I think she just felt wrong having to introduce her little son to a string of different strange men all the time.
So anyway, my mom always want me to open up, talk, take part, all that shi- man I really need to stop swearing so much. You’d think we lived in a trailer or something. All that stuff. During my Sophmore year, my mom badgered me for weeks and weeks to go out for a sport. I’m still amazed at all the ways she found to slip it into conversations. At the dinner table, during a movie, while I was ON the toilett! So, to make her happy, I went out for soccer. Hip hip hooray. That’s where this story really takes off. The ‘big’ game.
Before I get into that, I guess I should tell you what I look like. For 16, I’m pretty tall, mom says I get it from my dad. As far as I’m concerned, 5’11” isn’t that tall when you have some assho-, shit, the swearing again, some unfriendly senior jock slamming you into lockers every morning. And, um, my dick. I suppose you all want to hear about my dick. Well, you won’t be disappointed because I’m certainly not. Yes, I’ve measure it and even I’m not dumb enough to think that 7 inches soft isn’t something to write home about. It aint all sunshine, though. Having something like this in your pants at sixteen is like finding a million dollars in cash the day after armageddon. I don’t have a girlfriend, so what the hell else am I gonna do but stroke off a load alone every day? Why do you think there are seniors out for my blood? The middle of my freshman year, Iknew I had a growing problem on my hands. (Usually the problem was growing in my hand every day after school). So by the beginning of Sophmore year, I was dreading the trip to the shows after gym. I didn’t even need to look, I just knew there wouldn’t be anyone else in my class that was ‘in my class’. After about 3 or 4 double take I knew I was done for. Two days later I became donkey dick to the jocks, and ‘Moby’ to the nerds. When the nerds are calling you names, you know you have a problem. The girls, well, the girls are another story. Before the name calling, I was as invisible as Claude Rains. After I became known as donkey dick the whispering began. You can now see why I didn’t ever really feel like talking, and I really didn’t feel like going out for a sport. Just What I need, everyone and their sister watching me flop around in thin little soccer shorts, and, as a bonus, even more time in the locker room!
First off, let me say something about my physical abilities. I’m in great shape, but I guess I just don’t care enough about soccer to be that great at it. Remember, I’m not doing it for myself, I’m doing it for my mom, so bear that in mind. The day of the big game, and I’m not wearing a cup. This is an important point, I wouldn’t bring it up for nothing. The reason, incase you can’t guess, is because the cup my mom bought me from the sporting goods store, (Called ‘Dicks’. I shit you not.), didn’t fit me. She got me a large youth cup and it didn’t fit me. I mean I could cram everything in there if I really tried, but whats the point of keeping your junk from being hurt if the cup hurts? Anyway, I think the coach realized that my heart wasn’t in the game at all anyway, so I spent most games on the benchmark. Fine with me, but my mom was always on the coach like white on rice to get me in the game.
more later… Robert gets injured and needs ‘special’ care from mom
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