I was 18 when I attended cosmetology school in California. I had recently broken up with Redbeard in preparation for my move (that’s another story). I was young, hot, single and ready to mingle. So, my friend, Sofia, decided to set me up on a blind date with her friend, Hanson at A burger joint.
I left school on my lunch break and was greeted on the outside patio by Sofia and a boy a year and a half younger than I was.
That’s right, at the ripe age of 18, I was a cougar (Or perhaps a child predator, depends how you look at it)!
“This is Hanson.” Sofia said.
I peered into Hanson’s giant green eyes for the first time. He was tall, a little over six feet and really slender. Yet, he had a ghetto booty. He had a nose that slightly hooked and a weak chin much like I did. As a matter of fact people sometimes would mistake us for siblings. We liked this, in fact we encouraged it. Then we would make out in front of said people. This disgusted them very much.
Hanson and I both had the same raw sense of humor. We also both liked to do disgusting things. Things that made most people like to vomit.
I remember one romantic evening in Hanson’s garage converted, spider infested room. Hanson lit a sexy, scented candle and then told me that just the very night before, he had stuck that same lighter he used to light the candle, up his ass. I told Hanson he was full of shit and to prove it. Hanson, never one to back down from a dare, pulled his green, velvet, tiger striped pants down to his knees, spread his bulbous butt cheeks and stuck the sucker right up his butt hole. Well, the tip anyway. Hanson was a pussy. He failed this dare.
Hanson also had a huge dick. He liked to “do” odd things with it. One, being my “knee pitt”. I have no idea where he came up with this idea or term but I finally let him do it just to get him to shut the hell up about it.
One day, a few weeks into our blossoming relationship, Hanson received what appeared to be a spider bite on his foot. This was a slight annoyance at first but as the days went by his “bite” was not healing, it was actually getting worse.
I took Hanson with me to a graduation dinner for a fellow cosmetology student one evening after the bite. Hanson was limping. I told him to quit being a pussy, he was embarrassing me! After all I couldn’t have my friends thinking I was dating a gimp.
Alas, the days came and went, the limping got worse and Hanson still ignored his spider bite.
I was driving home from work in the afternoon when it happened.
There he was! Hanson was rolling down the street, wearing those stupid, neon green, tiger print pants IN A WHEEL CHAIR! I laughed so hard I almost crashed! I wanted to stop for him, I really did but alas, I couldn’t risk having anyone see me pick up that hot mess!
So, I did what any non-caring, selfish, bitch of a girlfriend would do, I drove by honked, yelled ‘retard’ out the window and flipped him off.
The next day Hanson finally saw a doctor. It turned out he didn’t have a spider bite after all. Hanson had a neglected case of athletes foot. Luckily, I myself never had to witness Hanson’s disease first hand. This was a good thing because apparently the smell was so horrendous that when he finally took his sock off in the doctors office that day, the poor, pregnant doctor literally jumped in shock before grabbing the nearest trash can to hurl in.
I saw Hanson a couple years ago when his band played in Vegas and you know what? He was wearing those fucking pants!