Better And Better

If you don't draw yours, I won't draw mine. A police officer, working in the small town that he lives in, focusing on family and shooting and coffee, and occasionally putting some people in jail.

Friday, April 04, 2008

Memory: So. Hawt. (Almost)

Autumn, 1991.
U.N.T. Fencing Team Party.
Somewhere in the vicinity of U.N.T. campus.

On my way to the fencing club party, I dropped by the local beer-gettin' place, secure in the knowledge that my full beard would guarantee that I wasn't carded. I got 2 or 3 sixpacks of beer, and, thinking that the chicks dig sweet drinks, I got a pack of Bartles & Jaymes Golden Wine Coolers. Suh-weet. I was set. I was 19 years old. Off to the fencing team party.

Before I got to the checkout, though, I spied a hottie. But she was different than most hotties: she was actually a hottie who knew my name and would talk to me.

"Sam!" I gushed, wayyy un-cooly.

"Hi, Matt. What're you up to?" Sam inquired. She was tall. She was on my fencing team. She could spend hours in a crouch. She was fit. She was hawt. She had said (and thus had remembered) my name. And when you're 19, that means they Want You.

Play it cool, boy. "Oh, just headed over to the fencing club party. They've got food and such, but it's BYOB," I said, very cool. "They're screening The Duelists and Princess Bride during the party. You know-- 'cause of the fencing scenes and such." Damn. Of course she knows about the fencing scenes, you knob! "Wanna come with?"

She hesitated.

"It's only a couple of blocks away," I prodded.

"Wellllll..." she demurred. "I could drop by for a little while, for my team. After I drop off my friend here." She smiled. Her hair was chestnut. She liked swords, and she was named "Samantha." I was bewitched.

At the party, they had it in full swing. Almost every member of the geek squad U.N.T. Fencing Team was in the living room of a small apartment, watching Princess Bride.

Sam arrived. I had been drinking by this point in the evening. Did I mention that I was about 19 years old? Maybe 20.

After seeing that she had refreshments, I sat down in my comfy chair that I had commandeered in the living room. Sam, finding no place to sit, sat on the floor. I gestured to the front of my chair as a place to lean back against. Between my knees...

Athletes get to feeling comfortable with each other. We help each other stretch. We push each other. We sometimes hurt each other, a little. So when Sam leaned back against the chair between my knees, I knew that I was on solid ground when I began giving her a shoulder rub. Just yesterday, I'd seen her tear a guy up with her épée. I knew that her shoulders were tight, because that's part of the aftermath of time extending one's arm in a fencing crouch.

Back rub: Commence.

It was going well. Her shoulder muscles were melting under my fingers. She leaned back fully into the chair that I was sitting. Her head lolled back, causing secondary (primary) excitations.
The movie was on. The lights in the living room were turned down, to better see the TV. I had consumed 2 or 3 adult beverages. She was warm to the touch. I was giving her a back rub.

I drifted off.

I woke up.


She was carefully moving away from me. To the other side of the room.


What happened? What just happened here?


Matt, did you just...? Did you just fart? Because if you did, you just farted against the back of that girl's neck...

The smell wafted up.

Good. Gawd. I wasn't sure I could bear the stench. I must have expelled a LOT of gas.

She found her coat.

She left.

A "buddy" came up and said, "Dude! You just ripped a big one! Were you asleep?!?"

I think I saw Sam one other time.

From across the gym.


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At Friday, April 04, 2008 10:02:00 AM, Blogger Ambulance Driver said...


You are teh smooth, boy.

At Friday, April 04, 2008 10:11:00 AM, Blogger William the Coroner said...

Yanno what's really sad? I was also a college fencer, and had a full beard so I wouldn't get carded, and the fencing squad was completely into The Princess Bride. Though mine was in MAINE.

And, fortunately, I never did that,.

At Friday, April 04, 2008 11:44:00 AM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

Dammit man, you gave me the hiccups.

I'm still laughing.

You could at least warn a guy or something.

At Friday, April 04, 2008 12:14:00 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

At that point your were either destined to be married or never see each other again.

Heh. Good story.

At Friday, April 04, 2008 12:50:00 PM, Blogger Mr. Fixit said...


that was the funnyiest thing I've seen in a while.

At Friday, April 04, 2008 1:46:00 PM, Blogger breda said...

Smooth, Matt...real smooth. ;)

At Friday, April 04, 2008 1:50:00 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

Yep. That fartin' on their head thing will put 'em off EVERY time.

Even though I'm married now, I try to remember that........

At Friday, April 04, 2008 2:30:00 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

Oh that is such a sad story. So close. Funniest thing I read all day!

At Friday, April 04, 2008 2:37:00 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

Oh yes. Verrry cool. ;-)

Surprised that little incident didn't result in a nickname. Or are you leaving that part out? Hah!

At Friday, April 04, 2008 2:39:00 PM, Blogger Officer Wright said...

Oh, the absolute joys of being a college athlete, trying to hook up with female athletes. Those were the days. Great read.

At Friday, April 04, 2008 3:59:00 PM, Blogger Assrot said...

Hind sight is 20/20 buddy. Maybe if you had been a gentleman and gave her the chair and sat between her legs, when you farted you could have blamed it on someone else.

Hard to deny when you practically shit down someone's neck. I pulled my share of bonehead stunts when I was that age but farting on the girls was not one of them.

Thanks for a good laugh. I'll bet Samantha still remembers you. She probably tells that story all the time.

That was definitely a "Jackass" moment. You should write the producers of Jackass about this experience. I'll bet they would re-enact it on their show.

I'm not sure that show is still around. I only watched it a few times.


At Friday, April 04, 2008 6:00:00 PM, Blogger Christina RN LMT said...

Man, I'm sorry!

That's painful to read, I can't even imagine how painful it was to experience.
I'd try to make a joke here, but my brain is wincing too much.

Word verification: fgpft

Did it make that sound...?!

At Friday, April 04, 2008 7:24:00 PM, Blogger Matt G said...

Joe: I have never seen a show called "Jackass."

Kilgore: It was, uh, the former.

Within a month, I met the girl who later would become my wife.

At Friday, April 04, 2008 7:51:00 PM, Blogger Bonnie said...

:-D THAT is a funny story.

I've been farted on, and as long as the guy can keep a sense of humor while I give him shit about it for years on end, I won't consider it a deal-breaker. Hell, I've farted on people before. It happens. Especially when you're drinking and relaxed.

At Saturday, April 05, 2008 7:16:00 AM, Blogger phlegmfatale said...

It probably ended better that way-- at least you can say you never constipated the relationship.

At Saturday, April 05, 2008 8:49:00 AM, Blogger breda said...

by the way, does this happen every time you drink?

If so, please give fair warning if you and I ever go out for beers someday!

At Saturday, April 05, 2008 9:38:00 AM, Blogger Tam said...

OMG I'm laughing so hard I'm crying...

At Saturday, April 05, 2008 9:59:00 AM, Blogger SpeakerTweaker said...

Oh. My. Gawd.

I haven't laughed that hard since, well... I don't remember when I've laughed that hard.

You should be selling this stuff. Seriously.

(The stories, that is. NOT the other, uh, stuff.)



At Saturday, April 05, 2008 7:24:00 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

" least you can say you never constipated the relationship."


At Saturday, April 05, 2008 8:46:00 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

I just spewed Diet Dr. Pepper out of my nose. Oh the pain! ROFLMAO dontcha just hate unexpected gas?

At Sunday, April 06, 2008 11:23:00 AM, Blogger Murphy said...

What a toot... er... hoot!

At Sunday, April 06, 2008 12:24:00 PM, Blogger Matt G said...

"It probably ended better that way-- at least you can say you never constipated the relationship."

I just wish I could've talked with her, and cleared the air. In new relationships, it takes less than an incident like this to de flatum. Too bad she quit the team, though-- her swordsmanship was a work offart.


At Monday, April 07, 2008 4:37:00 AM, Blogger Rogue Medic said...

That was the wrong mating call!

At Monday, April 07, 2008 4:42:00 AM, Blogger phlegmfatale said...

You were obviously no slouch yourself in the bladework department, considering how effortlessly you cut the cheese. Being on the team with you must have been a total gas.

At Monday, April 07, 2008 8:07:00 AM, Blogger Matt G said...

Given the efficiency with which I repelled that girl, I might as well have been a Gay Blade.

But I don't mean to put on airs-- on the strip, I stunk.

At Monday, April 07, 2008 11:07:00 AM, Blogger phlegmfatale said...

now you're just being modest, not wanting to toot your own horn about your mad people-dispersion skills. if that's what you do for friends, imagine how you might diffuse your foes.

At Monday, April 07, 2008 12:04:00 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

It could have been worse ....

( warning, probably NSFW )

At Monday, April 07, 2008 3:11:00 PM, Blogger Dedicated_Dad said...

Wow. Just... Wow.

And I thought some of MY stories of nookie-blown-by-a-stupid-move were stellar...

I've learned: It's all about TIMING. A few hours later, having played ALL of your cards right, you could have given her a dutch-oven and she'd still come back for more.

As you played it, well...

Still ROFLMAO though...


At Monday, April 07, 2008 10:11:00 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

At Tuesday, April 08, 2008 8:45:00 AM, Blogger phlegmfatale said...

I await your next witty riposte. Surely you haven't run out of steam?

At Tuesday, April 08, 2008 5:21:00 PM, Blogger Matt G said...

No, really-- it was only *off* the strip that I gave women the vapors. I'd be cheeky, and my approach was to be funny-- a real gas. The problem with that is that I had to relinquish control to her, and the anus was on her to make the first move.(ment) But if she did so, I would be on fire, like a blue flame.

It was occasionally effective enough that women would gladly trade their sulfur just a little more time in my notable presence. 'Course, there were the jealous boyfriends, coming 'round and saying "You stink you can get my girl?"

I would attempt to mollify by explaining that I had nothing but the best instenchions.

At Wednesday, April 09, 2008 5:10:00 PM, Blogger phlegmfatale said...

Compared to your previous outburst, I know anything more I write will stink on ice. Your considerable head of steam would no doubt foil any further attempt to be deflated. Naturally, one would take pride at being regarded as such a hot piece of gas, and I bow to your posterior skills.


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