Cool Dads

June 19, 2010

[The couple is in bed, about to get nasty.]

-So I’m out drinking with Z tonight and he tells me the funniest story.

-Here we go.

-What?

-Why does our pillow talk always have to be about Z?

-What does it matter what it’s about?

-It’s just. Nevermind, what’s the Z story?

-I’ll tell it real quick and then we’ll have sex.

-GREAT. I’m looking forward to it.

-So Z’s dad’s a TV producer slash writer. He wrote a few Cheers episodes and he’s done some other stuff and when Z was 2 he decided to write a parenting book. It’s kinda like a memoir but it’s written from the point of view of his son. So, Z’s point of view. And it’s all about how cool and alternative his dad is and how the other dads in LA are squares.

-Wow. That’s dumb.

-I know. It gets better. It’s called My Dad Rocks and it somehow sold tons of copies in the late ’80s. Look, Z gave me a copy. [he gets out of bed and grabs a copy of My Dad Rocks from backpack and gets back into bed] Growing up, Z was known as The Kid From That Cool Dad Book. He thinks it’s the dumbest thing in the world but it paid for his college so he can’t complain.

-OK, enough about Z, come here.

-Just let me read a bit first?

-Fine.

-OK, here we go: My dad listens to music a lot. In fact, music is his favorite thing in the world. Well, after me, of course. He plays me all his favorite records. One day he sat me down and said, “Son, are you ready to be enlightened? I hope so because today’s the day you join the proud ranks of Who fans. Behold: Quadrophenia.” He put on a record and turned the volume way up. And it was the most mind-blowing music I’d ever heard. Now I think of my life as being divided into two stages: before Quadrophenia and after Quadrophenia.

-So hacky!

-There’s more: My friends’ dads have played them Beatles and Rolling Stones records, I’m sure. What sort of dad wouldn’t? But my Dad plays me the weird stuff. In high school when my friends and I are talking about music during lunch, I’ll get to say that when I was 2 my dad played me Quadropehnia and it changed the way I heard sound. Man, my dad rocks.

-This may be the most narcissistic book on the planet.

-One more?

-Fine.

-On Thursday afternoons Dad takes me to me to the park. Thank God he doesn’t have a typical 9-to-5 job or else I’d be in day care. Or worse: at my mom’s house. At the park we see all types of dads. Most of them are wearing khakis and Polo shirts. They’re clean shaven. They’re ready for a business lunch. But not my dad. My dad wears sandals and only shaves once every two weeks or so. He never tucks in his shirt because he doesn’t have to. He says his style is surfer-entrepreneur.

-Oh God.

-A leetle more: My dad loves to eat sushi and when I’m older, I’ll eat sushi, too. We like to go to a sushi place in West Hollywood that only a few people know about. The chef there will make food for kids and I always get the PB&J (no crust, please!). My dads usually gets sea urchin and all sorts of other weird stuff because he’s weird and adventurous. The owners there know him as the Mr. Cool Dad.

-This is painful. Hey. How many times do I have to say fuck me before you fuck me?

[They start. And then stop. He says:]

-What’s wrong?

-What is that?

-What is what?

-On your tip? Is that paper?

-Oh. Maybe.

-Why do you have paper–is that tissue paper?

-Oh man, that’s embarrassing.

-Is that from? Did you jack off earlier today and forget to clean the semen-y tissue paper off your tip?

-Seems like it. I got most of it off. [he peels it off] There, it’s off now.

-I’m… disappointed? I don’t even know what to say. That is pathetic.

-Maybe a little pathetic.

-No. A lot pathetic.

-Is it THAT pathetic?

-Yes.

- Why? What does it matter if my girlfriend sees some–actually it was toilet paper–on my dick before we have sex?

-It matters.

-Is our relationship that fragile that a tiny square of t.p. could shatter everything?

-It’s not about our relationship, it’s about respect. Respect for me. [she's upset]

-Here we go. What. The. Fuck?

-How often do you jack off?

-Once and a while. Is there anything wrong with that?

-Not at all. Jack off until the cows come home. But don’t do it on days that you know we’re gonna have sex. And at least try to destroy the evidence.

-How can I predict when we’re gonna have sex? Are you gonna start texting me yes or no before I come home from work?

-I LOVE how you’re laughing about this.

-Maybe you should be laughing about it, it’s funny.

-It’s not funny. It’s not. You know what sort of message this sends to me? When I’m grabbing your dick and I’m about to put it in mouth, it’s like your penis is saying: Hi Anne, how’s it going? Earlier today while you at work dealing with assholes who complain about not getting fried chicken and daydreaming about coming home and making love to your man, he and I were getting it done without you. And it was great, we don’t need you. And yeah, we left the semen-encrusted toilet paper on there for you to find later because we don’t give a fuck. Now say aah.

-My penis isn’t that big of an asshole.

-Well YOU’RE that big of an asshole and it’s your penis so yeah, I’m pretty sure if your dick could talk, it would be that big an asshole.

-Well if your pussy could talk, this is what it would say to my dick: Hey buddy, long time, no see. But don’t blame me, the queen only likes to bone after a rough day at the pizza shop. If it were up to me, we’d get nasty every night. Also, don’t blame me for being so huge. I’ll have you know,  I wasn’t born this way. She’s fucked some pre-tty large things in her day. I never thought I’d be able to accommodate a softball bat but boy did she prove me wrong. I’ll never forget: it was the summer of ‘01 and the whole team was having a sleepover. We’re drinking in the basement and all of a sudden Sarah goes outside and gets a bat from the trunk of her Ford Focus and comes back and double-dares oh, stop crying. Stop. Anne.

-That is the meanest thing anyone has ever said to me.

-Anne.

-You’re such a retard. You seriously don’t know anything about anything. The whole “girls can get loose” thing is a myth.

-No it’s not.

-Yes it is. It’s genetics.  It can only permanently change after giving birth.

-I don’t think that’s true.

-That’s definitely true. Guys just think they can get stretched out to make themselves feel better if they’re dicks don’t fit snugly. And yes. I fucked a softball bat once. But it didn’t make my pussy loose, you dumbfuck.

-I’m not sure I believe you.

-Also. Honey. If I were you, I wouldn’t be… throwing stones… in a… genital-size glass house. If you know what I mean.

-Wow. And THAT is the lamest thing anyone has ever said to me.

[she gets out of bed.]

-Where are you going?

-To watch TV with Little Anne.

-Good.

NEXT: The Fourth Laundromat Hang

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