Crazy

"Humans are all fucking crazy. Every last one of them."

-- Albert Ellis, psychologist

~~~

From the moment I met him, I knew that Clovis was a little different.

No. Let me rephrase that.

From the moment I met him, I knew that Clovis was crazy as hell.

My first clue was his T-shirt.

Now, I didn't just fall off the turnip truck, and I have seen more than a
few wild outfits in my time. I just have never seen them in the foyer of an
exclusive (and I mean seriously exclusive) four-star chi-chi restaurant like
the one we were in.

And this was not in some trendy coastal metropolis where people are
sometimes blase about this sort of thing. This was in freaking Dallas,
Texas, for crying out loud.

Now, why someone would wear a T-shirt to a place like that in the first
place is cause enough for valid questioning of the T-shirt wearer's sanity.

But when the T-shirt in question has the words "THINK KINK!" emblazoned in
huge bright pink glittery letters on a black background, the matter is no
longer about questioning the person's sanity. You can pretty much just hand
him his certificate right there on the spot. Just go ahead and call the men
in white to come pick him up. He's nuts. There's just no two ways about it.

You may of course be wondering exactly how I would find myself in a
four-star restaurant with someone wearing a "THINK KINK!" T-shirt in the
first place, and the answer is likely to bring my own sanity credentials
into serious question as well.

We were meeting for the first time after chatting on AOL. He had insisted on
meeting me at this four-star restaurant.

Not McDonald's. Not Starbucks. A goddamned four-star restaurant.

The next question you might now logically ask is: Why hadn't they thrown him
out for wearing that damned T-shirt?

I later found out the answer to that question. As it turns out, Clovis had
shown up at the restaurant in proper attire. Then he had gone into the
bathroom, changed into the T-shirt, and then waited in the john until I
showed up. Wondering where the hell he was, I had called him on his cell
phone. Then he made his grand entrance.

Needless to say, we were both immediately thrown out, and probably barred
for life.

Not that I would ever try to find out if I was permanently barred for life
or not. I'll never show my face in that restaurant again.

Of course, none of this seemed to phase Clovis in the least. He walked up to
me in the foyer, ecstatic to see me, and threw his arms around me joyously.

Then he gave me a deep wet messy tongue kiss, complete with loud smooching
noises. Right there in the restaurant.

"Let's go somewhere else," he said to me. "I don't think they have any
tables for us here tonight."

No shit.

I was really too stunned to be angry, and Clovis didn't give me any time to
react. He grabbed my hand and pulled me out to the parking lot.

"You're hot!" he exclaimed. "Let me suck your dick right here in the parking
lot!"

"No!" I at least had the presence of mind to say that.

"Please?"

"NO!!!"

"Why not? I'm really good at sucking dick."

I had to explain why not? "We'll be arrested!"

"Oh, that's not so bad," he said.

"Yes, it is!"

"Party pooper!" he said. He seemed sincerely disappointed. He really wanted
to suck my dick.

"Let's go somewhere else," I said. I was trying to think fast. I was afraid
he'd drop to his knees and rip my pants down, and I really wanted to get a
handle on the situation quick.

"Okay," he said. "My car's over here."

I got in the car, then I immediately had second thoughts. "Maybe we should
take separate cars," I said.

But it was too late. He was already on the road and driving fast. I couldn't
even jump out of the car at this point.

But I kind of didn't want to jump out, either. This was insane, but it was
also kind of fun in a very strange way. I had never been in the presence of
someone so completely out of control as this. My heart was racing from fear,
humiliation, and mortification. But I was also getting kind of turned on.

No. Let me rephrase that.

I was getting seriously turned on.

We went back to Clovis's apartment and fucked nonstop like wild animals all
that night and well into the next morning. We fucked each other in every
position imaginable, yelling, laughing, and squealing like kids the whole
time.

I fucked his ass. He fucked my throat. I fucked his throat. He fucked my
ass. Over and over and every which way. On the bed. On the floor. Sitting on
the toilet. Out on the balcony. On the kitchen floor. Lying down. Sitting on
each other's cocks. Missionary style. Standing up. Scissor style. Backwards.

"I'm having fun!" he exclaimed loudly at one point.

"So am I!" I yelled back. "Shut up and fuck me!"

When it finally ended, we were both covered in sweat, lube, and grease,
tangled together in an exuberant sweaty mess. We were holding each other
tightly, my legs splayed apart and wrapped around his waist.

He slid four fingers up my slicked-up ass and gave me a deep, wet sloppy
kiss. Pulling away with a loud smacking sound, he wriggled his fingers
inside me and asked:

"Will you call me?"

"I'll call you."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

After we had showered and gotten dressed (and, yes, we got one more quick
fuck in while we were taking a shower), Clovis handed me a package. It was
wrapped up like a present. He had used the Sunday comics as wrapping paper.

"I got a gift for you," he said. "I hope you like it."

I thought that was nice, but a bit suprising. "You got me a gift? we didn't
even meet until last night. You must have got this even before you met me!"

"I did," he said. "I thought I might like you, so I thought I'd get a gift
just in case."

I could tell it was a videotape.

"Open it now!" he said.

I opened it.

"'Barebackin' to the Oldies'? What the hell is this?"

"I thought it might be good," he said.

"The guy on the cover looks like Richard Simmons!"

"I know!" he said. "Isn't that great?"

"You're insane!"

"I know!" he said. Then he gave me another one of his wet sloppy kisses.

I kissed him back. The tape was weird, though.

"I'll call you tonight," I said.

"Good!" he said. "Then maybe we can fuck!"

The thought had crossed my mind.

"I want to get freaky with you!" he said. "I kept things tame last night
because I didn't want to scare you off or anything."

Tame? Last night was "tame?" I didn't want to think about what "freaky"
might mean to this guy.

"I'll call you this evening," I said.

As the door closed behind me, I suddenly remembered something. I turned
around and knocked on the door.

Clovis answered. "That was quick! Are you ready to fuck again?"

"No," I answered. "You have to give me a ride back to the restaurant. We
left my car there last night."

~~~~

I planned to call Clovis that evening as promised, but he called me back
first, about two hours after dropping me off at my car.

"I want to fuck!" he announced.

"Well, you'll have to wait. I'm exhausted."

"Well, I'm ready now! I had breakfast, and I got my second wind."

"What did you have for breakfast?"

"Viagra!"

~~~

Despite Clovis's call, I rested all that afternoon. I didn't watch
"Barebackin' to the Oldies." The notion of watching a Richard
Simmons-lookalike having sex was frankly repugnant to me.

Clovis called me again that evening.

"I want to fuck!" he announced. That seemed to be a form of greeting for
him.

"That sounds good to me."

"I want to ram my big black dick up your pussy and grind it around
clockwise!" he said.

That sounded good too, although I would not have objected to
counterclockwise either. Clovis was good sex. Crazy, but good.

"Did you watch the video?"

"Um, no. Not yet."

"But let's get freaky tonight! I don't just want to do regular fucking like
last night."

"Okay."

"Also, I got a friend who wants to join us. I told him about you."

"What does he look like?" I don't generally like surprises.

"He's athletic and hot. Black, but not as dark as me. We want to stick our
dicks in your ass at the same time."

"I'm not sure I can take two at once," I said.

"Oh, sure you can. Your ass gets nice and loose after I've worked on it a
while."

That was true. "Well, we'll see," I said.

"Also, he has a nice ass. I was licking it right before I called you."

"Hope it tasted good."

"It was delicious!" he said. "He cleaned it out real good for me, and then
we put some grape jelly inside it."

"You didn't use all the grape jelly, did you? I hope you still have some
left."

"Oh yeah. There's still plenty of grape jelly left."

~~~

Clovis met me in the lobby of his apartment building. He was wearing a suit
and tie. He was also wearing wire-rim glasses, which I had never seen him
wear before.

He gave me a quick, tender kiss. His mouth tasted minty and not at all like
grape jelly.

He said, "Let's go to a cafe I know. We need to talk."

~~~

I was confused. Who was this guy?

First he embarrassed me in a four-star restaurant, took me on a joyride, and
followed it up with a marathon of the wildest sex I'd ever experienced. Then
he gave me a nutball sex video which promised to be more disturbing than
erotic and talked about double penetrating me with one of his friends.

Now this. The insane guy had disappeared and had been replaced by someone
who was dignified, reserved. Almost shy.

What the hell is going on?

~~~

"I like you," Clovis said. We are both drinking green tea. "I didn't scare
you off."

"I'm a little confused by all this."

Clovis smiled. "I'm sure you are."

"Are you really as crazy as you seemed to be last night?"

"Absolutely."

"So is this dignified stuff just an act?"

"Absolutely not."

"Would you tell please me what is going?"

"Of course. That's why we're here.

"I have a theory," he said, and handed me some sheets of paper stapled
together.

I began to read.

~~~

My Theory of Interpersonal Relations
by Clovis Turner

It is often said (and almost universally accepted to be true) that first
impressions are the ones that really count. We see someone for the first
time, form an immediate view of that person, and that view then guides our
thinking about that person for some time after the initial impression has
been formed. If the first impression is overcome, it is only after some time
and subsequent interaction has passed, in most cases.

Of course, first impressions do matter greatly, for it is often the case
that we don't have the luxury of forming follow-up impressions. In most
cases, the first impression is good enough for our purposes.

However, when the stakes are higher, first impressions may not be good
enough. And I believe that the process of choosing a mate falls well within
that category.

In our culture (and indeed in most others as well), people take great care
to form a good first impression. We are mindful of the ways in which we
dress, mindful of the ways in which we speak to others, and careful to avoid
giving offense when we want to make a good first impression.

That tendency has a few effects which I believe are detrimental to forming
strong relationships.

First of all, some small deception is usually involved in the ways we
present ourselves to others. We groom ourselves carefully, avoid talking
about important things which might drive the other person away, and avoid
anything that might be perceived as a flaw by the other person. In short, we
try to "put our best foot forward."

But our "best foot" might not be our most important foot. We all have flaws.
We all have our hang-ups and little secrets.

So then begins a game between the two people to figure out who the other
person really is. We overanalyze everything about the other person, placing
too much emphasis on the minor aspects of that person simply because they
are the aspects we can see most readily.

In time, of course, the flaws begin to show. And when they do, we feel a
small (or sometimes large, depending on the flaw) sense of betrayal. The
other person has deceived us! Of course, we tend to overlook the fact that
we have been doing exactly the same thing ourselves in order to make a good
first impression.

This is not a good way to start a serious relationship, I believe.

There is a second effect to this "first impression" bias of ours. Because we
really don't know very much about the other person, we fill in the gaps with
our imaginations, often idealizing the other person with notions of want we
want to believe rather than what we can actually see. And often the other
person begins trying to live up to the unrealistic ideal we have created for
ourselves. And of course, nobody can live up to the imaginary images we
create for ourselves.

So the whole thing can quickly become a self-defeating exercise in
wish-fulfillment and disappointment.

What is the answer to this? I believe that the answer is to "let it all hang
out" in a way that still lets the other person know that you are very
interested. Screw the "first impression" and get to the truth as quickly as
possible.

The other part of this is to make sure that while you are "letting it all
hang out," you are doing so with a keen awareness of how the other person is
responding. In essence, you are kicking the tires a little bit to see how
the other person responds to your quirks and unconventional thinking
(assuming you think unconventionally).

This approach will, of course, scare off alot of people. That's fine because
you are looking for someone special, not someone who will be scared off by
your quirks and idiosyncracies.

And if you ever find yourself in need of a little nookie with no further
possibility of something deeper, you can always switch over to making a good
impression to get "Mr. Right Now" until "Mr. Right" comes along.

~~~

I sat dumbfounded. "You're looking for 'Mr. Right?'"

"I am."

"And you think I'm him?"

"I think you may be."

I pondered this. "I don't see how you can say that."

"That's because you haven't been watching you. You've been watching me. But
I've been watching you."

"Uh huh."

He continued. "You have a sense of adventure about things. You don't judge
people by appearances. You don't get too hung up on social niceties when
there is something more interesting to be discovered. You're honest when you
don't agree with something. You're not possessive or jealous. You're good in
bed."

"And that's all you require?"

"No, but it's a pretty good start, don't you think?"

"I guess so."

"So, if I haven't completely freaked you out with all this, I'd like us to
keep getting to know each other better. We'll figure out whether we might be
good for each other long term."

"Okay."

"You're not freaked out?"

"No."

"You're not afraid of taking this deeper?"

"No."

"You want to get to know me and let me get to know you?"

"Yes."

He smiled. "I'm happy to hear that. I want to get to know you better as
well. I think we may have alot of living to do with each other if things
work out right."

"I'm willing to find out."

"So am I. But for tonight, let's just finish our tea and go back to my
place. I'm horny as a motherfucker, and I want us to get some more practice
stretching each other's asses open."

"Okay."

"I also want to get in the tub and piss on each other."

"Works for me."

"That doesn't freak you out?"

"Not as long as you give me a few drinks from the tap."

"I can do that."

"Let's go."

"And you can let me blow you in the parking lot."

"NO!"

"Hey, I had to ask."