Horizontal Lives

True Tales of the Infamous Courtesan: Persephone N. Hades and her Horizontal Life underground. How she got there, her mis-adventures and her struggle to re-surface.

Thursday, December 30, 2004

Orgasm Bellies


My mother, in loving concern that her daughter (me) might actually be a lesbian, or worse, an old maid, had embarked on a persistent campaign that I try a Match Making Service. Impossible to explain my actual life to her, and how I was truly happy the way things were, I had no choice but to ‘yes’ her to death, then act upon nothing she suggested.


Finally, Jewish guilt and angst, (of which she is well practiced champion), won out and I signed up. For females, the cost was nil. However, the emotional and time investments were extravagant. But if you met my mother, you’d understand I had no choice but to try it.


At the Match Making Agency, I was asked to fill out a five-page questionnaire, basically stating what I was seeking in a partner. Deciding, I was there anyway, I might as well be honest.

Never know. Could be a surprise. Might work. So I did.


I stated my ideal man was Robin Williams. His talent, humor and the love and humanness that his soul seemed to ‘vibe at’ was a perfect fit for mine—in all my strange wit, eccentricities and the way in which I too lived and viewed the world.

Sexually, I asked that he be open-minded and had a deep delight in the sensual.

Most of the rest I left blank as I can never tell about a twin soul until I meet him.


Then came the physical section: In this arena my only requirement was that he was somewhat stocky, with a thick, strong bull-like ribcage, and a bit of an ‘orgasm belly’.


(Better to elaborate on that last one: An ‘orgasm belly’ is the soft, round, not-too-huge- (but better large than small)--- tummy a man gets, that when making love, rubbing against that protrusion, causes a sensation in my lower half, very much contributing to my ability to have an orgasm.)

I suppose my application was bit sparse compared to what they usually see, but I thought nothing of it as I felt I stated the only things that mattered and could be put into words.


I submitted my application along with a photo, much to my mother’s delight.


Every week, she called to inquire as to the dates resulting from this service. Unfortunately, I had nothing to report as; I heard nothing from them. Days, weeks, months went by and still no call, until I forgot about it.


I didn’t want to do it in the first place, so there was no love lost.


This past month, a client of mine, oddly astonished that I don’t have a ‘real’ lovelife outside my business, inquired as to the reason for this. I told him I in fact did make an effort now and again, then related the Match Making story to him and all the few---the very few--requirements I stated on my form.


He sent me this email full of Holiday wishes:


Dearest Sugar Pie Honey Bunch-


As another year draws to a close, which always causes me to look back and reflect, I realize some of the best moments of the past year were spent with you. I hope you have a wonderful holiday and that we can visit often next year. You're very special to me.


My New Years resolutions include maintaining a nice big rib cage and a belly. I will probably fare better with these resolutions than with most of the others.


Love and kisses,
Big Belly Bart


Of course, I was very touched by his warmth, but unfortunately for my mother, I am afraid she is going to have to face the New Year still wondering what the heck is wrong with her daughter.


Ah well, sometimes happiness comes in strange, inexplicable packages.


2 Comments:

At 1:55 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

Love the Title. In Pulp fiction Bruce Willis' girlfriend's fantasy is to have a big pot belly that she would accentuate with an extra small tee-shirt! My belly is my favorite errogenous zone to be rubbed. I don't know but I think I want Robin Williams, you can't have him.
Slovex,
KJ

 
At 3:28 PM, Blogger Mellow Blue said...

Sweetie, So you're saying my fight against a pot belly has been disfunctional? All those chocolates forgone. All the bread I could have eaten. Woe to me, LOL.

 

Post a Comment

<< Home