Let me paint the scene leading up to “the incident”.
We are in our living room and it is 3:20pm on a Saturday. We’re watching TV. The roomie gets up to use the bathroom when the following conversation occurs:
Her: “Kenneth! There is porn playing on your computer!”
Me: “Really? How embarrassing.”
We’re about to get pretty personal with each other. This post marks the portion of the blog where whoring my stories out to family and friends for blog traffic might get a little awkward.
I started seeing an older woman and asked her over one night to “watch a movie.” Based on appearances, this woman was as normal as any other. I had no reason to think that this evening would lead to anything less than a good time. She arrives carrying an old wooden box under her arm. The box was the size of a chessboard, but much deeper. At first I’m curious about what is inside but soon I’ve forgotten about it and we’re watching the movie.
Eventually we reach the point of the evening where the TV is no longer the focus and she asks if I want to move to the bedroom. I agree and she picks up the box and brings it with her into my room. I ask again about the box. She replies, “just wait, you’ll see”. The box goes on the floor near the bed and once again I’m distracted.
You'll feel a slight tingle...
Now the ball is rolling. Things are getting pretty heavy when she finally stops and asks if I want to see what’s in the box. When an attractive woman is in your bed, I’m fairly certain sure that you never turn down her offer to see anything. I would love to see what is in the box.
She then asks if I have a spare lamp she can use. Uh, sure.
She drags a lamp across the room and begins unscrewing the bulb. Then she opens the mystery box. Inside is an ancient device that appears to be from the 1920s. I’ve seen enough World War 2 torture scenes to know that this is no run of the mill sex toy. I might be in real trouble. She starts screwing in connectors and clamping wires before turning the lamp back on. A hum starts to fill the room, along with the smell of fear and burning ozone.
Remember, we’re talking about a very beautiful woman. True, she was a woman who uses antique electroshock therapy devices as a form of sexual expression, but I still have faith in her even as the electrified prongs hit my bare, exposed, and naive chest. I truly believed, even while the stream of pure electricity was shooting through my nipple and down my body before grounding itself on my belt buckle, that somehow she held in her hands a magical pleasure device would forever top any sexual fantasy I could ever dream of.
But it wasn’t. It shocked the fuck out of me.
In case you were curious, I’ve found a picture of a similar device on ebay: Vintage Device eBay Listing
I never invited her over for a movie again.
I read this on a tech blog:
Lawn Sign Singles, a $45 Million Operation
Translated from the analysis, the article discusses the signs you see in almost every city labeled “Single in Buffalo?” that point you to a custom website for that city (www.buffalosingles.com). In reality, they all funnel to a giant eerily-conspiratorial marketing campaign worth over $45 million. The company charges you $3,000 to $15,000 to find a suitable match in your area.
Well, I’m here to undercut the market. You buy me a sandwich from Subway (foot-long combo, I have standards) and I’ll set you up a campaign like mine. I’ll plaster your picture on Craigslist and every other dating website out there, weed out the weirdos, and whittle down the candidates to those within your league of what I call “Ken’s Scale of Social Worth”. If you want, I’ll even arrange the date and show up to introduce the two of you. For a weekly sandwich I’ll even go door-to-door, pestering your local book, music, or whatever other “hip” store works for your demographic. They want the price of a new car to get you a significant other, I just want to eat fresh and blog about it.
