Oh yeah, she’s a bitch. In fact, I’ve got to sit here with her looking at me as I write this. She’s smirking at me. She was very definitely in smirk phase when this was taken, 1987. I don’t know that because it’s written down or anything. I looked up what year Michael J. Fox appeared on the cover of Playgirl.
Look it up. It’s funny, when you see his picture how young he was. From this distance in space and time, I recognized him right off, and he really doesn’t have that baby face from here. Not in retrospect.
The bitch still had kind of a baby face back then, too. She’d have been around 27 or 28, depending on the season. Her tan was definitely up to snuff, so it was probably summertime, so it would have been 27. I suspect the 3:23 was probably am and not pm, though I can’t swear to it. I can’t imagine I’d have been dressed that way mid afternoon for anything.
Late night/early morning was more likely. I don’t recall the occasion. I do recall the era.
I was a bitch, for sure. The body language says it all.
Mom and Dad are there in the picture with me, along with Michael J. Fox and the fireplace at my first house. I was a homeowner at 27, had been for a couple of years at that point. I was making decent money as a med tech, probably ten bucks an hour or so in ‘87, or something close to that.
There was that Rolling Stones song, already an oldie by the late 80’s. You got the bitch, Sir Charlie, you got the bitch. Really, I hadn’t been all that much of one before Charlie, but this was taken after Charlie. Or maybe I was, who knows? I did gain some bitch attitude over the years with him, for sure. Of course he’d helped me buy the house, that’s how much of a bitch I’d been to him. We’re still friends.
It was after Shelby, too. I definitely gained some bitch during that one, or at least the defensive posture. In fact, as I look at her, I’d say the defensive posture came from Shelby, for sure. The lion on one side of the girly bits and the bison on the other probably is a remnant of Charlie, for sure.
Lots of fight came out of that relationship.
But there the bitch is, standing with her skinny legs out there, beware the lion and the bison down there, and OBTW, don’t even think about it. Not unless you’re ready to get past some pretty serious bitch.
Don’t let the Playgirl fool you.
This Bitch had a standard response to the pick up line about what turned me on.
When I told them that I’d found that direct clitoral stimulation had been most effective, I mean after all, it was the truth, they typically had no idea how to proceed. That was fine, I did’t have much interest in anyone making such inquiries anyway. That was a celibate era. Besides, Tarzan wasn’t afraid of lions.
It wasn’t until I went off to Greece and met a nice Austrian man in a bar who won my heart and got me to let those arms down. He had the best pick up line, ever. He used it after we’d spent a few hours drinking beers, talking about blues music in a funky little bar in Athens.
He said “I really like you. Would you like to sleep with me?”
I really liked him, too. I said yes.
When I got home from Greece 3 weeks later, I found I’d left a lot of the bitch behind. Maybe she leeched out of my body on the roof of that hotel where he and I feel asleep the night before I had to go home. There’d been a full moon, and the Parthenon, and a couple of bottles of Domestica.
God, what a hangover.
Maybe I cried her out on the flight home. The magical fairy tale romance coming to an end. No explosive orgasms, not about that at all. Just a really nice man and a really nice time in a beautiful place. He opened me back up.
Just in time to meet the Economist. Ah well.