Well damn! Straight from the heart. Making my ears tear up.
Some one would say I am Abusive because I tell the truth...so to speak...but not like you could corroborate a single word
It isn't a t-shirt to wear with pride but, yeah, I have one ;).
Thanks MM! Without you here to champion my courage, as we both know I am a spineless sniveling shit eating prick, your words of encouragment keep me going. You'd think I was insulting people here, with the grave like silence to the outpouring of my heart. But, no! I am talking about the truth of my past as it was written close to 9 years ago. Obviously, I have been doing the shitstain dance then and not improved in any manner. But, that's what you get when you DIY your own therapy.
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I snapped out of my little daydream as the talk began. Just my luck it was another one on the
dangers of modern music. When the speaker started bad-mouthing U2 for their offensive rap
lyrics I shook my head to myself and went back to scouting out the women. Typically couples in
my religion were mismatched. Rarely were there couples who really seemed to go together,
expect for the old couples. Two old people always seem to go together. Normally though, it was
either a really skinny little puke of a man next to an ok girl or, there would be a somewhat
average man next to a hideously fat monster. The talks that we did have on family life always
stressed that seeking spiritual qualities must come first. Look for someone who is dedicated to
the preaching work and someone who takes the lead in spiritual things was the advice. Marrying
outside of the religion was strongly discouraged so generally the pickings were very slim. It
seemed that people just took whoever happened to be available at the moment. Dating was only a
method of finding a marriage mate. It was never to be used just for recreation. To express
physical affection in the form of a kiss for example would only be appropriate if marriage was
deemed imminent. So according to my theory, what this developed into was a bunch of young
horny people that were dying to get laid. The only way to do that was within marriage. That fact
coupled with a small population base from which to choose from wasn’t a good platform from
which to start. It wasn’t exactly a smorgasbord. At least in this congregation of about 100
persons there were more options than the one I came from with a size of about 30. There were a
few girls there- maybe 5 or 6 that were around my age, and of the married couples, there was the
usual mismatching. I ranked each one quickly on the 1-10 scale. They best girl there was about
an 8 at best.
I had kissed a girl before. My first kiss was in Kindergarten. It wasn’t the usual kiss on the cheek
either. This was on the mouth and for someone in kindergarten I would say it was a spectacular
achievement. I didn’t know at the time that French kissing was just sticking your tongue down
her throat. I thought it had to have been something fancier. Sadly things had sort of gone
downhill after that point. I started dating secretly when I was 18, but without much success. I
asked one girl out whom I knew from the swimming pool. She came up through the Catholic
school system so we hadn’t known each other before. She seemed nice enough and she said yes
at first when I asked her out to a movie, but she phoned later to cancel on me. I decided to go
anyway and ran into her there at the theatre. She was with someone else.
So far in the city I hadn’t had much luck either. It was only a short distance from where I lived to
a huge, verdant park so Missy had a nice place to go for her walks. I was hoping she would help
me meet a few girls but unfortunately the park was lined with retirement homes. The old people
were impressed with her though. Missy was obedient enough that she didn’t require a leash.
Even when other dogs would pass she was completely disinterested. I wasn’t exactly just out
looking to get laid but I really enjoyed female company. They were nice to talk with, look at, and
they smelled pretty.
The talk finished to a mediocre applause. I found out that the speaker (a short, fat, bald man that
had obviously never even listened to the radio in his life) was married to one of the most
attractive girls there. Oh well such is life. Half down, half to go. Next came the very interesting
study of the Watchtower and I have no idea what it was about as I was busy thinking about
something else; either girls or what to have for lunch or something along those lines.
The meetings came and went. The Sunday was the public talk and Watchtower study, on
Tuesday it was a meeting designed to prepare for the preaching work door to door which had
demonstrations on how to offer magazines and books to people. There was also a section where
normal members got up on the platform to deliver talks. Because I came from a small
congregation I had given one of those talks at least twice a month and it was something I was
very good at. They were 5-minute speeches chosen from certain scriptures. The talks were based
on explaining the scriptures using the information that was printed in the various religious
publications. Normally when someone didn’t show up for a talk I was always asked to fill in on
short notice. That would give me half an hour from the time the meeting started till it was speech
time. It basically gave me half an hour to sit in the library room at the back to prepare in peace
and quiet. Giving talks was the one thing I actually enjoyed.
What do you mean Azdaja?
In this congregation I really surprised people because I never stuck around to make friends after
the meetings and I never ever volunteered to comment during the question and answer portions.
One time there was one minister who had the habit of calling on people to comment even when
they didn’t have their hands up but I foiled his plot by simply stating that I didn’t really have my
hand up. I told him I was only scratching myself. So there I was almost considered an anti-social
mute. Then I would go up on the platform and give these killer talks and for the first time they
would notice me.
My meeting attendance wasn’t the best and that would always prevent me from ever progressing
up the ranks, but at least I had the excuse that my job kept me out of town. I was advised to
change jobs too. I responded with a very polite no. At least I had 10 hours each month of
preaching in which was accomplished by lying on my activity report as I had always done. At
the end of every month there was a report we had to fill out stating the hours spent preaching, the
quantity and type of publications placed, and the number of private bible studies conducted.
The meetings on Thursdays were the book studies. The congregation was divided up into smaller
groups and the meetings were held in various homes of individual elders. Our religion didn’t
have a priest as such, but the elders were the equivalent. The books we studied were kind of like
the Watchtower magazines only thicker. The book study meetings were my favorites because
they were only 1 hour long instead of 2. I was assigned to the study of Brother Jimmy Johnson.
He was the bald guy who gave the talk during my first meeting there. I pointed out to him that
U2 was not a rap group so maybe he should do a little more research before saying such things.
Whether or not I knew he meant to say 2 Live Crew instead wasn’t the point. Some kid probably
got an earful from his parents after that meeting for listening to a very wholesome group.
Another side benefit was that his cute wife provided me with some scenery. She was about 30
years of age, which was a good 10 years younger than he was. She had a gorgeous body and I
found pleasure in staring at her shapely calves whenever I could sneak a peak in and not get
caught. Her face was ok too but not her best quality. I mean she wasn’t a model or anything, but
under the circumstances if I had a choice to look at either her or her bald husband, the choice was
easy.
I hadn’t really made an effort to make friends in this congregation. Scott had been my best friend
forever and I didn't exactly want another. I had Missy and that was enough. But, I didn’t want to
be completely anti-social either so one day after the Tuesday night meeting when someone
approached me and said “hey my name’s Vincent,†I decided to return with- “I’m Jody, nice to
meet you.†He caught me in the parking lot as I made a habit of bolting right after the meetings
to escape just such encounters. Vincent was a small man with beady little eyes, a big Roman
nose, and hair slicked back with enough grease to lubricate a combine. I guessed him at about 26
years of age. I was good at guessing ages. The key is to look at the hands and never the face. The
hands show age more. I was much taller than Vincent was, and it was easy to look down and see
that his slicked back hair was hiding an oval bald spot at the back of his head. He also had a
shiny blue fiberglass cast on his foot which looked out of place next to his immaculate, dark gray
pin-stripped suit. I didn’t ask what happened but he volunteered anyway.