Hurricane M And Our Birthday Drive

…and during his drunken confession, M told me that he wants to get me wasted and fuck the shit out of me. He’s my friend. Probably my best friend. There is nothing sexual between the two of us. Now, I wonder if there may be. And I don’t know how I feel about it. I do know that it isn’t often a man, drunk or sober, can conjure that much lust in his voice. But my M is one who is a serious connoisseur of fleshly pleasure, so I suppose that is his norm. All I can say is, “Oh, my!” lol!

I knew that I’d be hearing from M on Sunday. All day long, he was on my mind. But, it was Grandmother’s birthday, and I’m not always up to much in the mental/emotional department on that day. Exhausted, I had gone to bed quite early. I’ve had one pain day after another, recently, and the fucking pain pills were making me bloated and I felt toxic. After an good hour’s rest, my phone rings. Even without my glasses on, I see M’s big ol grin on his contact ID. The phone rang and rang as I came out of my fog. I finally managed to answer. He was shit faced. He had just left the club and was in God knows what neighborhood in Dallas. In his Lamborghini, no doubt. Brilliant!

I instantly found myself in ‘mother’ mode and began to worry as I talked to M. I asked him what happened. He explained that he had a hot blond date earlier in the evening who was too into her feminism to realize she was being driven around in the panty dropper of all panty droppers. He fed her, got drunk during, and even though she did admit he was a sexy man with a sexy car, it was far too late for her to win him back over, so he unceremoniously took her home and peeled away. He then went to the strip club, where his friends were to wish him well and such on his birthday. BUT, he couldn’t find a stripper who’d just sit down and have an intelligent conversation with him, no matter how much money he offered. I explained that their job description does not include discussions on String Theory or Dark Matter. He laughed and said that it should. He then explained that he told his friends they were leeches and moochers and left. Boom! Just like that.

After we talked for a little minute, I asked M if he realized how weird it was that he was driving around talking to me on his birthday, considering all the other cool ass people he knows that he could be celebrating with. He just said, “Fuck em, Elle!”, and that was that. So began ‘our’ birthday drive.

I do not condone drunk driving, and neither does M. He was concerned because he would just die if he ever hurt anyone while driving like that. But he was quite lost and didn’t want to get off the phone and use his GPS. His Lambo is a 91 and they weren’t equipped with that stuff. So, turn after wrong turn, M and I talked. About everything. He is probably one of my all-time favorite people. I just adore the man. I would feel exactly the same way, were he a penniless beggar. He’s just such a character! How could anyone not love someone like that? And, so we continued our drive…into the barrio and out…on to the hood…back out again…ending up in Terrell, missing Dallas and heading into Fort Worth…back to Terrell. I have never been so worried about anyone…

As the night progressed, he finally told me why he’d rather spend his birthday ‘riding around with me’, (from a hundred miles away), than with his ‘friends’. He says, “Elle, do you realize that you’re the only person I talk to on a regular basis that I don’t HAVE to talk to? And, do you know why? It’s because you don’t give a fuck about my money and you don’t fucking judge me for a goddamn thing. You listen to my stories and you laugh and you just accept me.” Wow. I think that’s the biggest compliment anyone has ever paid me. I told him, that’s how I treat everyone because I know it sucks to be judged. And I told him that he was a wonderful man and a larger than life character and all of those things he seems to doubt about himself. Honestly, it made me cry. I never can understand how wonderfully amazing people are always the last to know that they are wonderfully amazing. I meet people like that all the time. And I just want to shake them and say, “You are AWESOME! Love yourself and dream so big you can barely see it all because YOU can do anything!”

After about an hour and a half, he finally found a chicken place in the ghetto of Terrel, Texas. (OMG!) So, he gets a shit ton of chicken and off ‘we’ go to find a quiet spot to eat. He got on the highway long enough to hit 140. He was whoopin it up like a kid…too cute. But, then he got scared of wrecking and pulled onto the feeder. Finally found a rest stop and pulled in.

M ate his food and started to settle down. That’s when he started telling me how much he fantasized about me. I was shocked and laughed it off. But he kept on and on about it. Even though I knew/know it was drunk talk, I was seriously surprised. I think most women have had that experience. And I’m betting we all sort of have the same reaction. Especially when it’s said in such a primal and lustful manner; The way a man who has and insatiable appetite for fleshly pleasure says it. I’m blushing, right now, just thinking about it.

In any case, M sobered up. I stayed on the phone with him until the wee hours until he was sure he could get to a hotel and such. He finally found his bearings and all was well. We hung up, and in true M fashion, I have not heard from him since. I told him to call when he got to a hotel or to the house, but…he doesn’t mind well. If he did, he wouldn’t be my M.

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