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.


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.

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.


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