Alas,there was finally that tackler he couldn't elude. R.I.P. AIR McNair
Usually they involved him losing an anal bead inside a girl, or a chick peeing on him, or a woman requesting that he and a bunch of his friends “kidnap” her and act out a rape fantasy of hers.
At the time I was 25, fairly inexperienced and shocked. The first time he told me a chick peed on him, I was disgusted…..then aroused…….and curious.
So he became my sexual guru. If I had a question about a woman, he was the guy I called. He’d tell me these stories about squirters and freaky Romanian chicks and finally i asked, where and how do you meet these gals?
He told me, “Bobby you just need to meet you a crazy chick, with a sordid sexual past, and possibly Daddy issues, if she’s bulimic that could be a plus.”
And I took his advice, and it led me to some strange places. From 26 to 30 I found myself in the bedrooms of Portuguese cleaning ladies, 48 year old dental assistants, 35 year old nannies, and married Montessori teachers.
You talk about strange trips. The thing was, he was absolutely right. The sexual experiences were pretty out there, I did everything I’d ever imagined (well except the old uncork the champagne bottle in the Vijayjay gag) and it was fun.
But also scary too. He warned me that there’d be a booty tax no matter what woman I’d choose, but I ignored him and would blame him for the advice he gave me.
When he did it, it was always funny, and sounded so glamorous. What’s that they say? “never let the truth get in the way of a good story.”
After many episodes of creepy, intense women, and high incidents of hysterical crying, sometimes shrieking, I decided enough was enough.
Regular old sex was good enough for me. I no longer need to get peed on, or have sex in exotic places. My libido is right where it needs to be.
I no longer have to jerk off on people’s answering machines to have fun. I’d rather just feel safe.
My brother’s crazy girlfriend once stabbed him because she suspected (incorrectly) that he was cheating on her (well at least for the night in question).
After my own Bukowski-esque episodes with women, and other strange stories I’ve heard of other people, I finally realize that two crazy people cannot be together and it be a good thing.
What good is freaky, crazy sex if you can’t live to talk about it later?
Consider all the stories you’ve heard of late, Steve “Air” McNair, that Boxer dude, Gatti, hell remember the “grits” episode with Al Green?
I’ve caught the paranoia for sure. I now feel the need to lock my doors when I go to sleep, or leave the house, and I stay aware of my surroundings for sure.
Was it worth it? Maybe. I’d like to think I’m capable of living a normal life and having a healthy sexual relationship with a girl without the need to do something bizarre.
Perhaps I got it all out of my system and just needed that outlet back then to experiment. Or maybe I was just crazy and needed women just as crazy(or crazier) to make me feel normal.
I don’t know, don’t even care to get too deeply into it, but I do know this, as scary as Fatal Attraction is, its no where near as scary as seeing it in real life.
Whether its opening the door to your apartment and seeing your ex huddled up in a ball by the entrance, or fumbling with the locked door to your home, trying to elude an angry girl with a butcher knife.
No movie can capture the amount of fear and adrenaline that arises when you step into those moments. Who knows, maybe that is the biggest and main source of arousal when dating a crazy chick.
Like being a male preying mantis, living on the edge, and finally dying to bust that fatal nut.
No sir, crazy just aint sexy anymore.
Nuclear Polio Vaccination 
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