Night of the Living Blow Job

Last night my friend Nishu had a cook out party for his friend Marcurio. A weird mix of hodge podge, Marcurio is part German and part Latvian. However, he was raised in both Brazil and Argentina, depending on where his parents worked. On top of that he lived and worked in Puerto Rico and NY. It was the big 50, a milestone. A membership to a new club. The night before, the recently divorced Marcurio had partied until the sun came up, drank as much as an errant sailor, and was still going.

Nishu, notorious for being the ring master of a crazy cast of characters, invited some of the usual suspects. Juan came with his Japanese girlfriend Koko. Nishu’s girlfriend Hedda was there as well, the one who has normalized him. Over the past six months, she has acted as a sedative of sorts. Nishu has gone from dating fetish models and answering ads on craigslist to having Hedda on his arm. Last night they were talking about the tentative wedding they were having in India where Nishu is from, and the possibility there would be one dog in the equation. The whole thing is good and odd at the same time. It is odd to see and hear Nishu using the love term when it comes to a woman, let alone only sleeping with one woman at a time. It is also good to see him so focused and so grown up. Despite his playboy past he is actually a good boyfriend. I think he had it in him though, because he was always a good friend.

Marcurio brought two guests with him. One was Marco, his good friend who he met while in high school in Argentina. Now Marco owned a private security firm and rode Harley’s. And there was a woman in the mix with those two. Her name was Sandra. A tall, leggy blonde, she worked for the Catalonian government in Spain. However, she now lived in NYC. While she was not lively as the rest of the group, she seemed fine, like she was blending in. Sure, we can be nuts as a whole, but she was adjusting, and Nishu was making her feel welcome.

I chatted with Sandra briefly. Apparently there is a movement for Catalonian independence in Spain I was not aware of. I asked her if it was similar to the Basque movement. She said it was less violent. I likened it to the Scottish movement for independence. She agreed, and we both discussed that and the IRA. I found her reserved but intelligent. Things were still smooth, still good.

We began to talk about various types of relationships, swinging and such. I mentioned I knew people who were swingers that had a healthy, honest, open relationship. Juan and Koko knew a couple where the swinging got out of control, and the woman developed feelings for her male swing. The subject came up about how feelings come and go, and people can’t turn them off. Sandra got silent, almost judgmental. She shot a hateful glance our way. Shortly afterwards, those two departed. Apparently, they needed to catch an early flight to Japan to visit Koko’s family the next day.

Then I asked Marcurio if he had ever been married. He mentioned he had, to the daughter of a famous baseball star. His ex wife, a Dominican, had tried to kill him on several occasions. Once she had stabbed him with a pair of scissors. Then she threatened him with a kitchen knife. After that she held a gun to his head. We asked why he stayed. Marcurio said, “It’s not her fault.” We laughed. Wow. Then we asked if they were still talking. Marcurio said despite their divorce they were the best of friends. WOW!

After which, I mentioned that as a recently divorced guy we should take him to a strip club. There were several in the neighborhood. I told him he needed the diseased booty of a stripper all over his face as well as her augmented breasts. The party agreed. The question was, which club to take him too. At some, because of the high stage fee, the girls were tip sharks. At others, they didn’t go full nude. These were such crisis and we arrived at a dead end. Still, this man needed lots of action from a dirty, loose, woman with no morals.

And then the name Matilda came up. Yes, he had met Matilda at the surprise party we threw for Hedda’s best friend Meg. Matilda was from Croatia, and up until two days before we met her had been living on a boat with this random Indian dude. They had no where else to go, and someone lent them the boat. Matilda baked these crepes laced in Jack Daniels. I mistakenly had one as a nondrinker not knowing. Within seconds, I offered the rest of mine to a slightly sloshed drinker friend. Anyway, Matilda was ready to rock ‘n’ roll.

A free spirit, she struck up a conversation with Marcurio about blow jobs, and then offered him one. 

Marcurio apparently declined, but got her digits. I blurted out, “You were recently divorced, what the frickety frack were you thinking? It’s a free blow job and you don’t have to pay!”

“Yeah,”  his friend Marco agreed. “Man, that is an offer you can’t refuse.”

Hedda agreed. “When someone offers a blow job for no money you just say yes.”

“And if you get this offer again she might have no teeth.” I reminded him.

“That is the best kind of blow job.” Marcurio informed.

“But she might have a crack habit and AIDS.” I said.

“That is depressing…..Never thought of that.” Marcurio replied.

“I have Matilda’s number, let’s call her and have her come over.” Nishu suggested.

We all agreed. Perhaps Marcurio could finally collect on his birthday present. All the while, Sandra sat there, with gleam in her eye that read homicide. I could tell she didn’t like me especially, but whatever. Mario agreed an up front offer for a blow job would have been a little odd, but he would have considered it. When we asked Sandra, she said in a stilted tone, “If I were a guy, I think I would be turned off by that.”

“But you aren’t a dude.” I countered. Everyone agreed. At that moment, a scowl set in across her face.

Nishu tried Matilda again, no luck. Finally he got her. She said she was in Queens somewhere and might come over. Apparently she was piss faced drunk. Probably laced it in her own food again. The good news was, she now had a residence and was no longer living on a boat. Meanwhile, the wine had run out for the drinkers and Nishu ran to the liquor store. The rest of us were left to debate the evening and the subject of BJs.

We goaded Marcurio into collecting on his much promised present. All the while, Sandra withdrew and got moodier and moodier. Hedda and I teased Marcurio about what had happened, and Mario joined the fun. Hedda suggested she should make the same offer to Nishu. When Nishu returned, Sandra was now downing liquor and unhappily sucking on a cigarette. She was waaaaayyyyy too uptight for our group. Meanwhile, we ordered a pizza. When it arrived, Nishu and Hedda disappeared to find the plates. They were gone for sometime, and we sat there. Mario, Marcurio, and I continued the blow job gag, and even joked about collecting money to get the birthday boy a high priced call girl.

I went inside to see if they needed help finding the plates. The hate from the direction of Sandra was much too much. When I went inside, Nishu and Hedda were both stepping out of the bathroom. Hedda had made the offer and well……That is when I said, “You both did not?” They giggled, got the plates, and out we went. Hey, at least someone was cashing in on the offer, right?

Pizza was punctuated with more inappropriate jokes. Sandra glowered now. Marcurio apologized, “We are a little nutty here in case you didn’t know. Sorry if you feel overwhelmed.”

“I wasn’t even paying attention.” Sandra said, not even visibly hiding her disgust. Hedda, wanting to change the mood from the wet blanket, cut off the lid from the recently finished pizza box and made it into a birthday keep sake for Marcurio. For as nutty as my friends are, they are equally as thoughtful. Nishu and Hedda were trying to make the party a nice experience, and now this woman was just making it awkward.

Minutes later, she announced she was heading out. She claimed she had to work. After she left, Mario, who had been silent for a great while, told us tales of his adventures as a biker. He spoke of the kindness of strangers on the road. We all were sucked into his stories, a nice change of pace from the sex talk that had enveloped the night. A short while later, Marcurio asked, “What did you think of Sandra?” We all bit our lips.

Finally, Marcurio confessed they had met on Tinder, and had only known her about three days. I was floored, I thought she was an old friend like all the others. Apparently she had been his “date”to his birthday party the night before. We asked if he slept with her. Marcurio replied, “Now I never will because you cock blocked me.” 

Thus began a debate about if Tinder was a meet up, dating, or hook up app. The jury was out. On the other hand, some of us felt bad about not knowing she was Marcurio’s date. If we had known, we wouldn’t have called Matilda and pressured him into collecting on the blow job he was promised. I felt bad, and so did Mario. Hedda said we had no way of knowing, and Nishu agreed. Marcurio laughed the whole thing off. But now this strange woman hated us all. Yeah, she was a stick in the mud. Yeah, she was on a whore app looking for love. Maybe we should have been a little better behaved.

Then we thought about it. Perhaps Sandra and her uptight nature made her not the right match for the recently single, ready to rock Marcurio. On the other hand, perhaps Marcurio was the reason for his brushes of death with women in the first place. Then we suggested we call Matilda, call Sandra, and have Sandra see Marcurio collect on his present live and in person. But we decided against it.

Instead, we decided to keep laughing and having fun. We decided to keep cracking jokes and to continue frolicking in the Neverland we somehow inhabited, stilted souls never to develop into full blown adults. The pirate who had accidentally infiltrated our lair would never return again, by hook or by crook. And in unison we shouted, “BLOW JOBS FOR ALL!!!”

Gosh my sixth grade self would have thought this was the best night ever.

The end. 

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