{…excerpted from a longer piece which first appeared in Gloom Cupboard…}
At the time, it seemed like the ideal moment to make my move.
It’s not every day I find myself engaged in rapt conversation with a beautiful woman fifteen years younger than myself; her eyes fixed on mine with an intensity suggesting more than a passing interest.
Smoothly, coolly, nonchalantly, I said, “We should get together sometime. Like, go somewhere. Or something”…
Read the rest at The Short Humour Site…
{…first appeared in BURST…}
This was the defining moment that separates men from boys.
He opened the driver’s side door with a swagger.
No longer would he have to endure fatherly admonishments about traffic safety. Now, there would be speeding. And drinking. And girls. Lots of girls.…
Read the rest at The Short Humour Site…
{…excerpted from “Sexual Psychosis,” which first appeared in The Legendary…}
When the first of my failed marriages came to an end, there was only one thing I wanted: sex. Not passionate lovemaking infused with deep emotion, but raw fucking that leaves a really big wet spot. I seriously entertained the idea of hiring a hooker for her services, but I was a “high-end call girl” kind of guy on a “toothless crack whore” budget, so paying for sex was out of the question. And, as a shy alcoholic who’d been dry for less than a year, joining the inebriated herd at a singles bar was unthinkable. So I decided to try what was then a relatively new option for desperate and socially isolated people in search of companionship: internet dating…
Read the rest at The Short Humour Site…
What is your name?
For the purposes of my writing outside of the office in which I actually earn a paycheck, my name is “Gil A. Waters.”
How would you describe what you do?
I try to transform personal tragedy into prosaic beauty. Put differently, I engage in therapeutic writing that I hope others will enjoy reading…
This was the defining moment that separates men from boys.
He opened the driver’s side door with a swagger.
No longer would he have to endure fatherly admonishments about traffic safety. Now, there would be speeding. And drinking. And girls. Lots of girls…
At the time, it seemed like the ideal moment to make my move.
It’s not every day I find myself engaged in rapt conversation with a beautiful woman fifteen years younger than myself; her eyes fixed on mine with an intensity suggesting more than a passing interest.
Smoothly, coolly, nonchalantly, I said, “We should get together sometime. Like, go somewhere. Or something.”
Perhaps my wooing abilities had grown a bit rusty. But I hoped the sincerity of my offer would convey an endearing sense of innocence.
A bitter smile broke across her face. She shook her head in a manner that unequivocally said “no” and redirected her gaze downwards to the gray surface of the metal table at which we sat…
