Anal Revenge on Republicans

Revenge on Republicans
The NRA chick decided that we should meet at the Gorilla Grill, by the lake. First a drink and, if chemistry was there, we could then go to a club, to dance and get wasted. I gave my standard blind date speech, telling her that I would be sitting out on the patio, wearing a cowboy hat and smoking a Black and Mild. If she liked what she saw then she should approach me, if not she should just get back to her car and leave. There is no way one can force attraction and it usually takes less than a minute for someone to figure out if such a feeling is there. I know, some people think that love is defined by kindness, communication, and security, but they are actually talking about relationships. Love is all about emotions and attraction, notions that cannot be easily described nor understood. It starts as a flame coming from the gut and the chest, burning its way toward your brain, as a pressure pushing unbearably against the pelvis. Its urgency makes you want to grab the woman you like by the hair and crush her red lips with a kiss while sliding your tongue inside her sweet mouth in a sordid attempt of capturing her essence. Such a feeling is beyond understanding and it is felt immediately by both sides. It is a soaring mutual attraction, thickening the air with anticipation.
After sitting outside on the patio and chewing gum for about thirty minutes, I usually do not smoke, not even “Black and Mild”, a still attractive woman in her mid thirties approached my table. She was the NRA chick, definitely looking older and wearier than her pictures, but I am sure the same was also true of me. Since she did approach me I concluded that my looks were to her taste, at least from a distance, and she wanted to have a first date. I stood up, took my cowboy hat off, and quietly greeted her. I then pulled a chair closer to me and wave her to sit. The initial minutes of a first date are always a bit awkward, but by then I was a dating professional and I knew that it did not really matter what I say, as long as I did say something. The other person’s brain, just like mine, was too busy analyzing the looks and the level of potential chemistry, so the words did not mean anything and it was just the tone of voice that mattered. This initial process so much resembles talking to a pet which only senses the intonation and not the meaning of the words, hence we are still animals at heart, so close to primitives when making love.
After five minutes of telling this republican, ultra-conservative chick, how uninspired I was by Rush Limbaugh, while she obviously was not listening but rather starring at my hair and lips, she suddenly quivered and looked me straight in the eye. At that point I knew she was attracted to me and that, if I wanted to, I had a very good chance to score. Of course, the problem was me, usually getting drunk under the weight of all the mental baggage I carried around and, at the end of the night falling asleep instead of falling for her.
“Carlos,” she said “è la riunione piacevole lei.”
I looked at her a little bewildered.
“Am I supposed to understand that?” I asked.
“Yes,” she answered, “I memorized this sentence for you and it means it is nice to meet you.”
“I think what you said was in Italian, and I am from Spain.”
“Well, don’t you Latin people understand each other?”
She smiled then and added “Joke” but I already felt that my need to have sex with her switched from reasons of pure attraction to a need for domination and possession.
“Actually I want to ask you something,” she said.
“What is it?”
“Since you are European but from Spain, what ethnicity do you claim?”
“Yes”
“Well, I consider myself Cockasian”
“I am sorry, what? Do you mean Caucasian?”
“Yes, I do. My accent got the best of me.”
A minute later she excused herself to go to the restroom and I watched her walking away. Now, men might be from Mars and women from Venus, but they sometimes meet on Uranus, and at that moment it realized what I wanted from her. She had a great behind and I was very willing to explore it. For one night I wanted her back rise to be my castaway island, a place where I could rest my bald head on the hot ground, taste the nicely trimmed grass with hungry lips and plant my baby palm tree.
While she was gone I checked my phone and answered a couple of texts, being with her was somehow promising and I did not want to do it when she was around.