Unc
a short story about an old dumbass
Hi all - This issue is a short story. I wrote it on a plane a few months ago and then I typed it out and cleaned it up two or three times and, after a little dithering, I realized I didn’t want to hawk it to magazines for the better part of the year for the chance—chance—that they’d take it, so here we are and here it is. It’s about a middle-aged heterosexual dumbass, and there’s a decent amount of sex stuff on purpose, some of which people don’t like encountering (age gaps, sub/dom, etc), so I get it if this issue isn’t for you. Normally I wouldn’t give a heads up, but I don’t always put fiction on here, so I thought it was only fair. In any case, it’s better at sex and comedy than Pillion. Speaking of: I’m probably going to rattle off an essay about gay literature and filmic adaptation in the next few weeks. (Emphasis on gay: I don’t want to touch Emerald Fennell’s recent turd.) If you stick around, I hope you like this one. I do. -KJ
Unc
Gabi said the classes would be good for her, that she needed to get out of the house now that Maya was back with their mother, “who knows what will happen” if she couldn’t. I got her signed up at Hunter, American lit and intro to sociology, said that if she did well we could look into getting her back into school full-time come fall. I didn’t tell her it cost me about double what she thought because Hunter charges more when someone isn’t officially working on a degree, but I figured that’s officially none of her business anyway, since she has her bank account and I have mine, plus whatever else I give her every week. Her lunch money alone was going to be too much if she was going into the city proper for classes. I said it’s cool and I mostly meant it.
The first week was good and she was all excited about everything, those big green eyes, like a puppy dog seeing a treat. Just hold your horses, I joke, everyone’s first week is good, so just wait until the teacher comes in with real work and you have to stay up late writing a paper that only him and nobody else in the world is going to ever read. I say that’s why I never bothered finishing school. She looks sad so I tell her I was joking, actual jokes, that I knew she could do it and she knew that I knew that she could do it, I say otherwise why would I spend two grand on unofficial student prices for you to even to take a couple classes, and that she shouldn’t pull that sad girl shit on me when she knows I’m just a joker like that. So she cheered up and I felt better because she knows I’m just a joker, how I’ve always been since we first met a few years back.
All of that to say I really was surprised when she was still having a good time a few weeks in. Not that she’s dumb, she’s not. I swear I don’t think she’s dumb. I catch her doing the wordle and shit all the time. I’m not that kind of guy who thinks there’s just hot girls and smart girls. I know hot girls can also be smart. Gabi is just the kind of girl who doesn’t need to be smart in order to be successful, if she just only wanted to be a hot chick. One time I told her that she looked like that girl from the mission impossible film but a bit lighter, like people would just think that she was Italian if she didn’t go around correcting them all the time saying she’s mixed, like how people used to think Mariah Carey was Italian, and she looked at me, like okay pops, sure, when did people ever think Mariah was Italian. What I’m getting at is that one of her teachers noticed she was really smart and said she could probably be part of a summer program at another campus that was all about sociology and anthropology and whatever other ology, all of that brain stuff, not that she’s a giant nerd either, and trust me, I know women are do science stuff, too, so chill, I watched X Files way back in the day.
How much is that going to run me, I ask her.
Nothing, she says.
What do you mean nothing, I say, everything costs something, so what did he say it was going to cost, or did he try to get you to say yes before sticking you with a gigantic fucking bill. She didn’t know I was trying to protect her from what happened to me with a time-share situation some time back that I’m still paying for because I don’t know how to get out of it. They know what they’re doing, those kinds of guys always do.
No, she says, no listen, it’s like a scholarship and I can get it if I write an essay and get an A in the intro course.
And it’s not for like hood crack babies where they make you act sad in front of a camera, I ask her, and I ask only because I knew she grew up in a regular house in Sunnyside, fucking Sunnyside for chrissake, and it only got messed up at home for her and Maya when her dad had that freak stroke a few years ago, around when we started talking.
Don’t make it weird, she says, I’m just being me and doing me.
Okay okay okay, I say, because you know I can pay for it if you need it.
Yeah I know, she says, and then I had her come to my side of the couch. I love when she shows me how much she appreciates all of it.
Long story longer, she was doing well in class and it turns out the teacher was a gay dude so I didn’t even have to worry about him putting the designs on her or her stepping out, win-win. My uncle Tony was gay, way back before you could go to a parade or the gay bar without risking getting your ass kicked, so I’m not freaked out by them or anything, nothing like that at all. The kids think we’re all old-fashioned when they’re the ones who say all that old-fashioned shit about dressing modest and age gaps, shit like that. Believe you me, not all of us oldheads are cavemen like that, especially any of us that grew up in New York City, as if we didn’t see all types of people all the time. Don’t be ridiculous. Your parents probably had more fun than you. Besides, no gay guy has ever hit on me, not even once, so I always joke that I’m too ugly for them or they all have a spidey sense that I’m not worth the trouble. When I had Gabi show me his picture from the school website, I joked that he was too pretty and that it’s a blessing I don’t have to compete with him for girls and she said she didn’t get it so I guess maybe it is a little different these days. Who knows, she’s the one doing sociology, maybe she can tell you better.
So Gabi got the award, no shocker, and I told I knew she would, like I always do, because at that age you need to tell them this sort of stuff over and over. I try to make sure at least once a day I say something nice like that, really clear, so that it sticks, baby you have nice hair, baby you smell so good, baby you know what happens when you wear that dress, normal boyfriend stuff. She said there was going to be an award ceremony where all the people in the program could meet and get a free lunch out of it.
You should really come if you can, she says.
Will there be free beer, I say.
No, she says, why would they have that at a school.
Well, a of all, it’s a school for adults, I say, plus b of all, schools always have a ton of money, don’t let them kid you and say that they don’t.
No, she says, this may be a school for adults but this summer program is for ah-dults un-derrrr twen-tee-woooonnn-uh, so none of us can drink in public.
Yeah okay smartass, I say, but don’t these people have parents or brothers or sisters, or boyfriends for that matter, like what are we supposed to do the whole time.
Well you don’t have to go if you really don’t want to, she says, I can just call up my mom and Maya instead.
This went on for about an hour and she screams a little and I yell back a bit and eventually she agrees that I could probably just get a couple beers at the sports bar a few blocks from campus and then I could meet her at the ceremony. We say yes to that, fair is fair, compromise matters in relationships, and the day of I made my way to Paddywhacks for a burger and a couple beers, nothing crazy, and of course by then it was April so the Yanks were doing their thing, early season starting like it should, so of course I had to root my boys on, but I actually do head off to the school thing after the fifth, and like I told her, “I get there when I get there,” but apparently it’s too late for her because she’s got this look on her face.
Wait wait, I say, did I miss everything.
No it’s whatever, she says.
No no, I say, and I was staying quiet because I’m not the kind of guy to make a scene, especially at such a big deal, I say to her did I miss something already. And I asked because first off, it was only 1:30 when she said it was going to be 1 to 3 and secondly, why would she believe I would miss something when I had on my good button-up.
Just don’t worry about it, Gabi says.
What, I say.
It’s just that I was already talking about you, she says, and you weren’t here yet.
At that point I really actually started to feel bad because she wasn’t being uptight about being on time just to be on time. My first wife was like that. We’d have a party invitation that would say, oh come by starting at seven and if we didn’t show up at seven o’clock and zero seconds on the dot, she’d sulk and whine and pout like we missed something, even when I’d say babe, when the invitation says seven they really mean nine, especially when it’s my Dominican friends.
She opened her eyes big for a half-second, big-big, which I know means fucking chill, just drop it, so I do, and then she says, well maybe you’d like to meet the professor running the program and some of the people who are going to be in my classes. I say yes, because I am a friendly guy and a gentleman, I don’t throw tantrums, and besides it might help her grades to be nice to the teacher, especially if he’s playing for the wrong team so she can’t bat her lashes or uncross and cross her legs slow during class.
The teacher comes around and frankly he’s bigger and more muscular than the photo let on, dude is yoked, but you know how gay dudes are always trying to show off for whoever is paying attention, which I guess would be other buff guys, but I swear he didn’t even make a move on me even once when we were talking, not even as a ha-ha joke, not even for sport. Like I said, I think gay guys can just smell it on me not to bother. He went on and on about Gabi and how she could be a sociologist or a professor or a journalist one day, something big like that, that’s how bright she is, and how I must be real proud, and how it must be amazing to see her come into her own and find a thing she’s great at, and I almost make a joke about knowing a few other things she’s great at, but I know enough not to make a remark like that, even near a gay dude, even though I’m just a joker at heart. Nobody ever told me I could be good at a few different things but I still know not to joke around like that.
So I smiled and I nodded and I listened to him go on and on, you know how gay dudes can really put on a show, even the really manly ones, and then he finally asks, so when did you first get a sense that Gabi was so exceptional?
Well, I say, I kind of nudged her into doing classes this term and getting back into school because I knew she could, she sometimes can’t see how great she is and that’s why something like this is such a godsend, but honestly I knew she was the smartest woman I had ever seen when we first met.
Hold on, he says, did you say first met.
Yes, I say, and that’s when I realized maybe she didn’t say who I was officially, or she only said that maybe her family was also coming, something that didn’t make it a little more clear who I was and who she was. I always wait for her to bring it up. I’m stupid but I’m not stupid-stupid.
Ah gotcha okay gotcha gotcha okay he says, and then he asks, so how long have you two been together.
Officially, it’s two years this month, I say, but we first met a few years earlier after her dad died. That’s true and it’s never not been true. I had been doing IT work for the school district and I ran into her after she was leaving a group for students who had lost their parents and we only talked, that’s all, really, and I said what’s that group you’re leaving, science club or something, and she smiled that big smile of hers but she told me what it really was for, and I said, oh damn, I lost my dad around that age too, and it’s rough, and we didn’t trade numbers or anything upfront, I’d just wait with her after her meetings and we’d talk and I’d bring up my dad and she’d bring up hers. I don’t see the problem in sharing memories, like what would even be bad about people thinking about the good times? Whenever it does come up, I try to always say the officially part very clear because I don’t want people to think I’m some fucking idiot, like the upper head didn’t win out.
Ah gotcha okay gotcha, he says, and then he says he had to go get more soda, and you know, whatever.
So Gabi comes over and introduces me to all her friends, or I guess they weren’t her friends yet because who becomes friends after meeting someone during a party without beer? For me, it would be borderline even after taking a class with them. My friends go back to first grade, the true ones at least, and even then I didn’t call Tommy or Robbie or Gonzalez my friends until I was probably nine or ten. You need time to build that kind of trust. Gabi says their names in a circle, and probably two of them I can remember, Carisa because she was absolutely beautiful, basically a model but the figure was even nicer, and then this kid Jake. Jacob. Jake is how she said it but Jacob is how he says it when he extends his hand, like the kind of fucking England.
Rolo, I say, then I say Roland, nice to meet you Jake-Jacob, trying to make a joke of it.
Rolo like the candy, he asks, clearly not getting the joke.
Not really, I say mostly because who knows how you get a nickname since they basically show up once you start having friends. But I do have a major sweet tooth, I say.
Very fitting, he says, classic unc.
I beg your pardon, I say, but you know what I actually wanted to say, even if I was wearing a button-up shirt.
He started to say, no man, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean no offense, I just meant the cookie monster sweet tooth thing is classic unc behavior.
Yeah I heard, I say, maybe too hard, because I see my girl’s eyes get big again, but I was just wondering if you’re even allowed to say that word, I say to him, because I’m staring at this kid who is what, nineteen or twenty, something like that, probably doesn’t even have any hair around his asshole yet, and Jake, sorry Jaaayyy-cob is the whitest boy in the room, both name and looks, blue eyes and freckles, actual blond hair, boat shoes, a buck-sixty, maybe, stretched over six feet.
He says what do you mean.
I say well dog you’re white.
He says wait aren’t you white too, and that’s when he had a point, I guess, because I am unmistakably white, no ifs ands or buts, not even a Puerto Rican grandfather or something, so it’s not like I could do a gotcha and teach johnny beanpole a lesson.
Fair fair, I say, but isn’t unc a little harsh.
What do you mean, he asks, and everybody is just looking back and forth at us like dipshit ping pong, two balls in the same nutsack.
I mean, uncs usually don’t have game.
No, he says, I’m saying unc in general, like uncle, and then I see the look hit his face and then I see her look at him and then I look at both her and him and I realize this dude thought I really was her uncle because she must have realllllly hedged her bets telling anyone and everyone her family was coming, as if her mother and idiot sister were actually going to show up. And so he starts backpedaling and saying, no, I’m sorry Roland, I’m sorry, I just meant energy, yeah energy, that’s really all I meant man, no disrespect.
Energy, I say.
Yeah energy, he says, truly no disrespect, sticking his hand out again. By this point the beers from lunch are washing over me and I think to myself, okay, am I Fun Rolo or Mean Rolo today, and I choose Fun Rolo because again, I’m really just a joker. He tried one of those handshakes kids do now, not the old shake-grab-snap we used to do, this one had thirty bells and whistles, and I tried to follow along until he did some twinkle-toes shit with his fingers and I couldn’t follow. Classic Unc, he says, looking me dead on, and they all laugh, even my girl, and I join in because again, Fun Rolo is just a joker, too.
*
That next day, I got a letter from my first wife’s attorney, official stamp and seal, all of that shit, saying that she is looking to “pursue an adjustment to the alimony settlement” based on “further evidence of assets withheld during the marriage,” and at this point Fun Rolo becomes Mad Rolo.
I call her up, still surprised she has the same house number after all these years. Jennifer, I say, are you fucking doing crack rock.
What about hello, hi, how are the kids, she says.
A of all, I say, the kids are grown so however they are is however they are, and b of all, don’t fucking mail me some shit about wanting more of my paycheck when you are still getting a chunk of it after all these years. I always tell all my friends at the warehouse about this, all of her games, pretending she has no fucking money, boo hoo, I have fibromyalgia, boo hoo, the kids need clothes and braces, boo hoo, but suddenly she has enough cash from god knows where to find a lawyer good enough to con the judge into believing she deserves lifelong payments.
She says it’s just awfully rude for someone you’ve known for thirty years–
Known, I laugh, hoping she can hear me roll my eyes.
And besides, she says, you also shouldn’t be so mean to someone who is taking you to court.
Bull-fucking-shit, I say.
Don’t curse, she says, in New York everything you say on the phone can and will be used against you, Larry taught me that. She thought I was too dumb to know she started boinking her lawyer to save on his attorney fee.
Yeah, I say, what did he teach you about fingering his butthole.
Watch your words, Role, she says, and I hate when she uses that name, as if anyone ever had the option to call her Jenny. You never give a woman a nickname she doesn’t use.
Jennifer what is this about, I say.
The timeshare, she says.
Jennifer, I say, you didn’t want to fucking touch the fucking timeshare when we were together because you said it was a white trash move and suddenly this many years later you want this fucking time share. That much is true, among all the lies and stories men always tell about their first wives, yours truly among them, that much is true, which is royal of her because she used to act like going to Jersey was like visiting a leper colony, even right over the Hudson, and then she up and took the kids to Passaic. I almost ask her how good does Larry’s dick taste for her to like New Jersey but I stop short because a lady is a lady, even if she’s your first wife.
Funny you bring the time share up, I do actually say to her, because I suspect you know you can’t take it if I use it, and at that point my girl finally shows up from class, and I say to Jennifer loud enough for Gabi to hear through the hallway, yeah and wouldn’t you know it, me and my lovely girlfriend, long-term girlfriend, we are going to use it together this year.
Roland, it’s a fucking timeshare, she says, why would you be so greedy about it.
I drop my voice as low as I can and I say, you certainly aren’t greedy, sharing your old pussy with Larry and anyone else he brings over, and then I hang up and throw the house phone across the room.
My girl looks in, books still in hand, asks me what’s all this about the time share.
I figured we could maybe use a vacation, I say, which was true, since most of our days off together the past few months were spent in bed and these days I’ve been working 50-60-70 hours a week to make sure she has her clothes and allowance. The city is nice and I’ve been around long enough to know when the city was a shithole but sometimes it can still feel like one when you stay inside it too long. Even a timeshare in Jersey for a couple weeks is far enough and long enough.
But when is it, she asks.
Don’t worry, I say, I always pay for the time a bit before Labor Day, so we can celebrate when you ace this summer school thing , and for the first time in I don’t know how long she kisses me and takes care of me without asking.
*
Gabi’s summer program started up a couple weeks later and that meant she needed everything, money for books and money for clothes and money for some computer program and money just because she needed money. The easiest way to handle this was the old credit card shuffle. Balance transfer the Visa bill to the one Mastercard, balance transfer the Discover to the other Mastercard, use the good card I’ve had for twenty-odd years for a cash advance because I only get paid so much and, let’s face it, nobody at the fucking Rego Park Costco was going to give me a raise just because I’m dating a girl in college. Maybe she’ll get a degree and one day she’ll have a job that will pay enough so she won’t have to shovel shit from one card to the next, but even my cousin Terry has an MBA and his credit card bills are through the roof just because he buys Knicks season tickets.
One day soon after her program started she wanted money for pizza, so I ask her, do you mean like a slice because I know dollar slice is just a saying these days, no place actually sells it for real anymore, but you should have like five bucks in your pocket for a couple pieces, like don’t you have an emergency twenty somewhere.
No, she says, like a couple pies.
Are you pregnant, I ask.
No, gross, she says while rolling her eyes, it’s for a group thing.
Group thing like a hangout or group thing like a party, I ask her, because I can’t have twenty people here, we’re in a one bedroom for god’s sake.
No chill Rolo, chill she says, like two pies because I have a group project and we formed our teams today.
Okay, for school is okay, that makes sense, I say, hoping it’s two pies and there’s not someone in her group who is like 400 pounds or a lady bodybuilder. What’s the class, I ask.
Sociology of deviance, she says.
Like pervert shit, I ask.
She laughs but not a mean laugh. Like yes and no, she says. Like how certain things are seen as perverted in some cultures but not others, or how stuff that used to be considered wrong isn’t anymore.
Oh, like gay guys, I say.
Yeah, that’s one, she says.
Or trans girls, I say. Again I grew up here, I’ve got all kinds of friends, I’m not a bozo, you know.
Yeah also that, she says, but also vice-versa, stuff people used to be cool with but don’t fuck with anymore.
Like slavery, I ask.
Not exactly because that’s like the backbone of American society, she says, more like spanking your kids.
Or like fucking the secretary, I say.
Sure, she says, or smoking inside. Or driving without seatbelts. Or age gaps, she says, tapping her nose.
Yeah, yeah, I say, I got it. So how many of you guys are in this group.
Oh, you met all of them at the lunch thing a few weeks back, she says, it’s Jenna and Tisha and China. Oh, and also Jake.
Really, I laugh, homeboy is in your group.
Are you even allowed to use the word homeboy, she asks, and I was tired from a double shift so I let that one fly by.
Anyway, I ask, why did he end up on your team.
That’s easy, she says, Professor Zhao said everyone who wanted their group project to be on AI should go to one corner and everyone who wanted their project to be on sex should get in the other corner, and then drugs in the last corner.
So you all chose the drugs project, I ask.
No, the sex one, she says.
Cute, I say, I didn’t know you were the only five Gen Zs who were sex-obsessed, I keep reading that all of you are prudes, didn’t know you guys formed a nympho squad.
Relax, relax, she says, we’re researching stuff that’s new to us, it’s all scientific and clinical.
Is everyone wearing lab coats, I joke.
No but we’re reading research on everything first, she says, actual academic research, it’s all about kinks and the internet and loneliness.
Kinks, I laugh, like belts and chains and licking shoes.
Kind of, she says, turns out that’s all really really old school, and again I let it slide because apparently I needed to get these up and coming geniuses some pizza.
So I ordered the pies and I threw in an extra one for good measure. I figured my American Express could handle it. All of Gabi’s classmates showed up one by one, even little Jakey, barely looking like he could buy some smokes or eat pussy, still having the fucking nerve to say Alright, Unc! when he saw the pizza on our coffee table.
Yeah sure, I say, and I don’t mention that I ordered extra so I could snag the leftovers because the Costco pie I always eat on my lunch break isn’t proper pie. It’s the only embarrassing thing about working there, not the hours or the pay or feeling like a dipshit for dropping out of college, seeing dudes half my age become shift leads in no time flat because they have some degree in workplace leadership or some shit, none of that, truly just the shitty suburban pizza they have, even if it is pretty close to a buck a slice. Anyway, I say to all of them, even Jakey, you guys make yourself at home, you hear?, and then I went to the kitchen to make myself some coffee because I was bouncing between so many overnights and doubles my brain couldn’t remember what time it was, even when I had a legit day off.
Twenty minutes later, I was staring into space while I sipped on some Bustelo thinking about fuck-all for once when I hear, Hey Unc, I mean Rolo, hey Rolo.
He was standing there in those big jeans we used to wear, but cut a bit too high, like chess club and goth night at the same time, and this floral shirt that we definitely didn’t used to wear, almost like the ones gay dudes downtown used to wear back in the 90s. It was cool but I’m just saying we let the gay guys have that look way back when. Maybe he was trying out a mustache and maybe he just forgot his lip. At least his shoes were off, so I knew he had some common sense.
Yeah man, hey hi, soda and seltzer is in the fridge, I say, you know I can’t legally give you the beer, but if you take some I can’t stop you.
And then all of a sudden he’s standing right across from me in the kitchen, leaning in a few inches while he has his arm propped on the fridge, like I’m a girl at a party, and he says soft and low, Rolo, really man, thanks a lot, it means a lot to me that you’re so nice, because I know I can sometimes come off like an asshole.
Somehow my voice was softer now, too, and I say, I don’t think you’re an asshole.
Yeah you do, he says, and he leans in just another inch.
No, I promise, I say, and it’s a lie but I say it. You’re just figuring shit out, I say, how shit works. Certainly takes balls, though.
Dude, not even my parents are that nice, he says, smiling, teeth absolutely perfect, which is almost weird, like private school teeth but he’s at a city college. It’s a good smile even if it’s a little shit smile, a wiseass who knows he’s a wiseass.
Sure but they know you, I say, so it’s easier for me to give you a chance because you’re new to me.
Yeah that’s a smart way to put it, he says. Something I said being smart, first time for everything I guess.
Did you get in trouble with them or something, I say.
Yeah and that’s a whole long story, he says, you know how it goes, but I’ve been clean a year and now I’m in college again.
Jake, I’m very happy for you, I say raising my coffee mug, and this time it’s not a lie and I mean it, I tell him living ain’t easy but you’ve got your eyes open and a good brain, more that I can say about myself, I joke.
He smiles again and says, I bet all the ladies call you a sweetheart, and I swear to God my cheeks got red.
A joker, sure, I say, but never a sweetheart.
That’s a shame since it’s clearly true, he says. He leaned in again, just barely, like you couldn’t even see it even if you could smell it, looking me dead on, before opening the fridge and grabbing two of my Bud Lights by the necks, and when he closed the door he put his free hand on my shoulders and says, seriously, thanks for being so cool.
Yeah of course man, study hard, I say, confused how strong his grip was.
*
Summer crept along, that nasty way where each day gets gnarlier than the last, sidewalks with piss stench, train platforms feeling like an oven, freeballing by necessity, the whole nine. I started taking even more doubles and overnights at Costco whenever I could, just so I’d be in the warehouse or the freezer most of the day, which almost made the heat feel like a fun surprise when I got out to go to the N. Gabi got time to study in the apartment most days and I got enough overtime to buy her more stuff for research and make space on my good Visa for the annual timeshare charge.
Their group project kept shapeshifting every time we talked about it, which after a month of changing up every single thing, new methods or subjects or hypotheses or whatever, I was beginning to wonder if they even knew what they were doing at all, even if I tried to be nice about it because again, they’re the college kids and I’m the loser dropout. What do I know about science or whatever.
One night I couldn’t pretend to keep anything straight anymore. Hold up, I ask her while we’re eating halal cart, is your professor cool with you switching every little this and that all the time, is that going to hurt your grades or anything.
No no, she says, it’s actually better that we keep revising our ideas before we do it, that’s what Doctor Zhao told us during our check-in with him. Besides, she asks, how do you know anything ahead of time when you do research.
I don’t know, I say, I thought professors were smart.
She says it was a rhetorical question, and I nod along. I’m not so stupid that I don’t know what those are: Do you want my head on a platter? What am I, chopped liver? If all your friends jumped into the Hudson, would you follow them, or do they only have you by the balls when they want to go out drinking? Trust me, my second wife used to fake-ask me those ones all the time, and that’s when I learned don’t you dare answer a rhetorical question if you can help it. Do you want me to hit you again, Vanessa would say, but she’d do it anyway, there’s only enough humiliation a guy can take.
But even I understood their research wasn’t about rhetorical questions. So what’s your new hypothesis that you guys came up with after all of this, I ask.
Basically, she says slow and steady like she’s a teacher already, we want to see if overall kink patterns in mainstream adult spaces shifted over the past decade because of the pandemic, we think that the pandemic made both adult men and women focus on new ways to express themselves sexually, and that they kept engaging in those kinks after the pandemic rather than drop them for something new.
Ah okay, I say, so basically you guys think people jerked off to new freaky shit more and more when they couldn’t hook up, and then started doing that shit for real when they actually could hook up, and they kept showing off online for other people to jerk off to.
Yeah kinda basically, she says.
I ask Gabi how they would even measure that and she says the porn sites track everything so the data exists, at least state-by-state.
So you guys aren’t actually logging in to fuck me mommy dot com and watching hours of this stuff, I joke.
Well actually, she says, and my guts started to squirm. Obviously intellectually speaking, I know everyone watches stuff. Before the internet my friends and I would share magazines and steal tapes, and I’m not so much of a nimrod to think girls don’t watch stuff. Like I’ve heard of all the porno animes just for chicks, the yowee stuff. I’m from New York, guys. Like I said, I know gay dudes and there’s a trans guy on the warehouse team. But it’s still weird when you learn what your girl or best bud or a cousin or whoever watches to get off, even if it’s actually for research. Like it almost feels weirder to know someone is really reading the Playboys for the articles. Nerd city, even if I can’t stop thinking about it.
So, you’re all just watching spanking videos and taking notes on how pasty the guy’s butt is, I ask.
Kind of, because race is one factor, she says, but also age and scenarios and film quality, whether it’s all just studio stuff or if amateur at-home stuff is popular. So, with dominatrix and taunting stuff, a lot of it is studio films or chicks who do OnlyFans, whereas pup play–
Whoa whoa whoa, I say, like fucking dogs.
No Rolo, she says, rolling her eyes, like gay dudes in those dog hoods and harnesses.
Oh gotcha, I say, because honestly it made sense, it did, the butt sniffing and backshots, and frankly if I looked that good why wouldn’t I try it out.
Yeah, she says, so that’s about fifty-fifty, and of course the guys are almost always young and white and fit, not to mention have enough money to get those costumes. But the cucks are usually amateur and their stats run the gamut.
Cucks, I ask, I thought that was just an insult, like an internet joke, I thought that wasn’t a real thing.
No, no, she says, absolutely real, like it’s insane how big it is. Jake said we should add cucks instead of Snapchat baiting because it’s hard to verify some of those guys’ ages when they get baited, but cucks are all clearly adults.
Yeah, I ask, but like what is it if it’s actually real, and as I ask that my phone started blasting up, just buzzing nonstop. I peeked in my pocket, not to be too rude, and it’s the first wife, probably because I sent her a postcard with two pennies taped to it, and on it I wrote, “Here’s some advice, bend over for your lawyer more if you really want more money.” Like I said, Fun Rolo usually wins, but I was actually listening to my girl, so I let it go to voicemail.
Okay, cucks are actually pretty basic on one level, she says, because it’s when a dude lets a hotter or younger or more buff dude fuck his wife while he sits and watches. Usually wife, sometimes girlfriend.
So he just sits there and takes it, I ask.
Well, that’s what he wants, she says, he wants to be put in his place, like he wants to be second place.
Like bosses who hire a dominatrix, I ask.
Sometimes, she says, and sometimes it’s like giving a gift to his best friend, and sometimes it’s the dude believeing his own wife or girlfriend deserves the best possible fuck that only he can find, like he’s providing her someone with muscles or someone who can last foreever or someone who has a huge dick, or all three. He wants to give her that best possible fuck of her life, even if on paper it’s humiliating that it’s with another guy.
So he just sits and watches another dude pound his girl, I ask.
Yeah sometimes, she says, like sometimes they sit in a chair and watch while they jerk off, but usually they’re filming, too. And they can join in, too, sometimes.
So like, I start to say, and then I realize I actually have no shape to my thought, like it’s a giant green glow but no spark, heat lightning. So like, I start again, do they join in in a straight way or in a gay way.
Well that’s where it’s confusing, she says, at least confusing to me and Jenna while we analyzed these videos, because Jake says it isn’t gay but it looks gay to us.
How can it be gay and not gay at the same time, I ask, like are they DPing her.
No because that would just be DP, she says, it’s more like, you know, sometimes the cuck will sit under the action.
I say, like the fucker’s balls–
The bull, she says.
Like the bull’s balls are on the guy’s face, I ask, and I feel the glow in my head turn a few colors.
Yeah, she says, and maybe the cuck is licking his wife but he’s definitely licking the bull down there, too, whether on purpose or coincidental. And in some videos, Gabi says, the cuck is eating his wife out after the bull finishes, like eating the other dude’s cum out of her.
Wait, I ask, your professor is okay with this project.
Yeah, she says while she shrugs, Doctor Zhao says it’s not real life interviews or interactions so there isn’t anything we have to clear with a research board, and he said he would present the other teams’ projects to administration instead of ours, but he said over and over that it was daring stuff so he gave us his blessing.
Daring sounds about right, I say, but anyway why does Jake say it’s not gay, because what you just said doesn’t sound straight on any planet, there’s two dicks and at least one tongue.
Well, she says, we learned in another class that gay and straight don’t have clear boundaries even if we pretend they do, they just don’t, it’s just lines we make up, and Jake argued that the kink works for these guys because everyone involved says it’s straight even if it has stuff that looks gay.
Yeah but the eating jizz part, I ask, and the glow is now in my hands and feet, even in my balls, even though my phone will not stop buzzing.
I know, she says, but Jake said think about when dudes get lap dances at the club together, or jerk off on camera together for chicks, or at least people they think are chicks.
Or even like a regular tag-teaming session, I say, like I ever even had one.
Exactly, she says, and now she’s suddenly in professor mode, and suddenly I’m proud of her, like I’m surprised she could live with me for two years and not come out a crayon eater. Suddenly it’s the big words and I’m trying to keep up, she says the suspension of belief makes all of it kinky but safe, horny Santa Claus and Tooth Fairy shit, that guys who are as straight as they come can still do this, basically get humiliated but they call it gratitude, or they can do some guy-on-guy stuff but they call it brotherhood, or watch another man plow their girl but they call is spoiling her with the best gift ever, because nothing has a consistent eternal meaning, nothing, not a single fucking thing ever, it all depends on who defines what in the moment, eye of the beholder stuff but even deeper, and if we focus on that then it all makes sense, and now when I talk to you it all makes sense, so thank you.
She gives me a great big kiss and hug before she says she knew I’d get it, says she’s having another research session with her study group, and I say sure sure and ask what they want on the pizzas. When she goes away form the kitchen, I check the phone and it’s thirty-odd messages from the first wife, bastard this and faggot that and fucking pervert yada yada, the whole nine, as if her words aren’t admissible in whatever imaginary court she thinks she’s taking me to. That night all of Gabi’s group sat in the living room, watching dirty videos and taking notes, laughing and eating pizza, hours of it, and I didn’t know you really could turn porno into homework. Call me professor then. I sat in the chair in the corner of our bedroom, feeling the glow on my arms and behind my neck, almost like I when I’m ashamed, but I was calm instead, calmer than I’ve been in years and years, the glow behind my gums and in my ribs and in my knees. I sat and didn’t do much of anything besides think, whatever thinking a dummy like me could do anyway. I listened as they worked until late and I could tell Jake was the last to leave, later, much much later, I didn’t mind, I didn’t, and I just sat in the chair and waited for my turn to eat, even if the leftover pizza would be cold.
Maybe you’re smart like them, all on their way to be scientists or professors or something impressive. That ain’t me. You figured that out by now, but it always helps to say stuff out loud, don’t bottle it in. I’m old enough to know that by now. We gotta do our things to let it out. I’m fifty and if I don’t let it out more I won’t even make it another ten let alone however much I should get. The little things work, feeling the freezer air at the Costco warehouse or telling my first wife where to stick it, the Yanks winning ten in a row, all of it. But sometimes that isn’t enough, and you need more. That’s why I kept the time share. That’s why they all have their summer school and whatever they’re doing in regular school. That’s why we have Jake. Two weeks at the Jersey shore, him and her and me, since I already had paid for it and besides, when in their lives would they finally have the ability to save up for a trip that nice? At first, I sat in the corner but the second time onward I said I needed to join in. I’m a thankful guy. She always wears the perfume and lingerie I buy her when he’s here. He has a really good grip, always on my shoulder to show how he appreciates me being underneath, smiles really big with those perfect teeth. He calls me Rolo of course, and I call him Jake but also bud or my dude, and I mean it. You get it. I know I joked about how he probably had no hair on his asshole, but he’s actually really furry back there, thick and curly and blond. I’m just a joker is all. Whatever, you know? She still says she loves me.
If you like my stuff, consider being a paid subscriber so I can write more stuff more often. Or share the word. Or get me an agent. Or be my agent. Thanks. -KJ