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Casual Sex: The Ol' School Conquests (Part 2)

 I 

I went to high school with a guy who had the same birthday as me: month, day and year. If that doesn't scream kindred spirits, I'm not sure what does.

We'll call him Ferris. For whatever reason, I didn't really know him until it was almost time to graduate. Even then, all I really remember is that he had a solo with the Show Choir. 

As an aside, how much different might my life have been if I had MADE show choir. The whole thing was rigged. Rigged, I tell you! The choir teacher let this cheerleader in. She had asked for "her note" during the audition and then started on a completely different note because she was tone deaf. Pretty sure the choir teacher was friends with her mom, but I digress. 

Listening to Ferris sing To Make You Feel My Love during a school assembly, I may have orgasmed slightly. This scrawny little whip of a guy had a deep, rich Harry Connick Jr thing going on with his voice. 

Man, I was obsessed with Hope Floats. 

So, after high school, I did not spend much time thinking about Hotty McVoice Stuffins until Facebook became a thing. He had really taken off from a physical standpoint if his photos were any indication. 

After my divorce, I ran into him at a gas station, and found out he was playing in a band. After busting my 6-pack open inside the store (literally, the bottom fell out and beer went everywhere) he said we should hang out sometime. 

At home that night I searched for his band on You Tube and laid in bed listening to him sing Garth Brooks' The Chair and Keith Whitley's, Don't Close Your Eyes.

I was obsessed with Keith Whitley.

So, I end up not touching myself at all or anything while listening to these songs on repeat. Then, Ferris and I made plans! I was to come listen to his band perform in a little bar and stage area at a Bowling Alley on a Friday night. Huh. I didn't even know that was a thing.

Ferris ended up back home with me, where we had special alone time and he just kept repeating this line about my lady parts: IT'S SO DEEP. IT'S SOOOO DEEP!

And I don't mean philosophically. 

I wasn't sure if this was a compliment, or if it was like, cavernous in a BAD way. 

He kept assuring me it was the former, and also that our interlude was "just for fun."

When he went home the next morning, he left his belt behind, and the only other time we ever hung out again was for him to retrieve it. 


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