continued from here.
The next few weeks were amazing. I’ve gotta say, as nutty as it sounds, my relationship with the Hot Dog was probably the best relationship I’d ever had. Everything was so easy. I mean, first of all, me and the Hot Dog or “Debbie” as I later started calling it, had so much in common. We both liked laying around, going to ball games, and just generally shooting the shit. All of my other girlfriends seemed so needy in comparison. If I wanted to watch television, Debbie was into that. If I wanted to go to park, Debbie was down. There wasn’t a single thing I could think of that Debbie didn’t want to do. Well, save for go to the butcher, but that had more to do with fidelity issues.
We got along really well, but then after about a week, I noticed that we weren’t really talking as much. You’d have probably imagined that dating a talking hot dog would be non-stop chatter. And there were definitely moments of that. But I was always cautious to ask to much, to talk too much, fearful of what I might actually hear I guess. At one point I thought to ask Debbie about her background, you know, where she was from, which is pretty routine stuff for first dating talk, but when I started to begin the sentence, I could already see that she was about to stone wall me, grimacing with that cold stare she could give.
Truth be told, I called her Debbie, but had no idea if Debbie was a woman. In fact, the one time we sort of attempted to be intimate, it…well it was awkward to say the least. I could tell Debbie was sort of into it, but I was really skeeved out. First of all, “she” smelled terrible at this point, I mean, we are talking about a week old hot dog. And as much as there was definitely some sort of chemistry going on, I don’t think, at the time, I was man enough to look beyond my own inhibitions.
I told myself, that I was just being chaste, or better, that I had a love that wasn’t predicated on physical attraction, which was a first for me. I thought, in some weird way, that I was evolving, becoming a better person, one who wasn’t so superficial. But after a few days out, seeing other couples, really in love, canoodling, being so overtly lovey-dovey and intimate, made me sick to my stomach.
In short, I started to resent the Hot Dog.
After the second week, Debbie could tell something was wrong. She tried to overcompensate, becoming more sexual, talking dirty at night, trying to get a rise out of me. But it was no use. I found, very quickly, that I was avoiding going to bed with her, always staying up late to jack off to porn. At first it was regular stuff, girl on girl, threeways, but then after stumbling onto a fetish site, where girls put random stuff into their…you know, and it was all I could watch. Cucumber, carrots, any food item really did it for me. I would stay up ’til all hours until my dick was sore from jerking it. Eventually even seeing a coupon clipper for the supermarket was enough to get me hard.
But still, I couldn’t find a way to bring myself to touch Debbie.
I’d hear her crying in the bedroom some nights, but I was too pre-occupied, and in all actuality, too callous to try to comfort her. What would I have done? It was like being caught between a rock and a hard place, except I was caught between a bun and a pickle.
Oh, yeah, I forgot to say, she got all done up, with relish, and whatnot, to I don’t know, I guess try to save what we had. But it just pushed me further away from her. I thought, God, this is so tacky of her. But when she asked me how it looked, I lied.
-You look great!
-Really? You really think so?
-Yeah! Of course, the green really accentuates your shape.
-Oh, thank you Peter! I’m so glad you like it. Some people don’t like pickles, or-
-No, no, I’ve always been a pickle guy. You can ask anyone.
During that conversation, she got really quiet for a moment, before asking me:
-Do you…do you think it’d be possible…when can I meet your friends?
-I told you a hundred times!!! It’s just not…
And that set off the next of our big fights. She was always trying to meet my friends, wanted to “get to know another side of me” but how could I possibly do that? She accused me of being embarrassed of her, and I would always try to deflect it, saying that “no, I just need to find the right way to do it” but really I was embarrassed. I was in love with a hot dog, and no matter how I phrased it, it was crazy…
Continued here.
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