The Drought (The hilarious laugh-out loud comedy about dating disasters!)

by Steven Scaffardi

  “Beware of old man arse and wrinkly scrotums,” Ollie had warned me as he dragged my lifeless body to our lockers.

  *

  As we walked back to the tube station, I felt like my body was about to give in. Ollie lit a cigarette.

  “How can you smoke after coming out of the gym?” I asked. “Doesn’t that defeat the whole point of exercise?”

  “Duh,” Ollie made the kind of noise you make after someone has made a stupid comment. “It’s because I keep myself fit that I don’t have to stop smoking.”

  You couldn’t really argue with logic like that.

  “I nearly forgot,” Ollie said digging around in his rucksack. “I brought a DVD for you.”

  I looked around to make sure no one was watching. Ollie had never been the most tactful person in the world and the middle of Clapham High Street was not the sort of place you wanted to be receiving the type of DVD I’m sure he had in his bag.

  “Oh,” I said surprised as he handed me a copy of WrestleRage. “What is this for?”

  “Girls like guys with good bodies,” Ollie said. “But they also like guys who can look after themselves.”

  I wasn’t sure if that was entirely true. I didn’t know too many girls who made their decisions on whether to sleep with a guy or not based on his fighting ability. From my experience girls preferred a bunch of flowers to a bunch of fives.

  “Okay,” I said, “but how is this going to help me?”

  “Duh,” there was that noise again. “The main event of WrestleRage was the Iron Warrior vs Flex Bruiser. Two of the greatest athletes ever to grace the squared circle. You could learn a lot from these two.”

  I didn’t have the heart to tell Ollie that wrestling wasn’t real.

  Makeover with Jack: The Moves

  “Fourteen hundred quid?” Jack gasped when I told him about the blazer I had tried on at Rob’s shop. “You could get yourself a hooker with that sort of money. Probably a good one as well.”

  I was starting to get a bad feeling about the third stage of my makeover. Upon hearing that both Rob and Ollie had already got involved, Jack insisted that he come round to teach me some “proper man moves” as he had put it. He was even referring to himself as the missing piece of my puzzle.

  “What is this we’re watching?” Jack asked.

  “WrestleRage,” I said as the Iron Warrior hit Flex Bruiser with a big clothesline.

  “But why?”

  “Because Ollie said I needed to learn how to fight.”

  “And he recommended you watch this?”

  “Yeah,” I said like it was the most obvious thing. Warrior pressed Bruiser above his head and dropped him in preparation for his big splash finish.

  “And you listened to him?”

  Jack was right, it was ridiculous. But I had been hooked since I had put on the DVD three hours ago. Watching these spandex-wearing muscle men had brought back so many nostalgic memories from my childhood.

  “Shhh,” I put my finger up to my lips. “The Bruiser is making a comeback!”

  And he was! Shaking his head and waving his finger at the Warrior, taking everything the Warrior could throw at him. Then came the big boot and he went for his famous Knee Drop.

  “That was so obvious he was going to miss,” Jack said as the Warrior rolled out of the way at the last minute.

  “Shut up,” I said, now on the edge of my seat as Warrior bounced off the ropes and hit Bruiser with another big splash. “One... two... three!” It was all over – the Warrior was the new champion. I leapt to my feet and started dancing around the living room in my dressing gown, imitating the Warrior by beating my chest.

  “What in God’s name are you doing?” Jack said, his arms folded across his chest. “Turn this rubbish off. We’ve got work to do.” Jack was taking it all very seriously. I took my seat back on the sofa next to him. I wasn’t even too sure what man moves were. I had been too tired when he had called that morning to bother asking.

  “As the missing piece of the puzzle, I will be helping you with the single most important part of your rehabilitation,” Jack pursed his lips. “Man moves, otherwise known as sex education,” and with that he pulled out a notepad and pen, and put a pair of glasses on.

  “Wait a minute,” I said. “I thought you wanted to teach me how to be cool and to get my swagger back? And why are you wearing those? You don’t wear glasses.” I said.

  Jack ignored my question. “Hey, what impresses a girl more than being absolute in the sack? And after all this time out of practice, you could probably do with a few pointers.”

  “I really don’t think this...”

  “What is the best sexual position?” Jack interrupted me.

  “Well... I...” The bluntness of his question took me aback.

  “Too slow,” Jack said shaking his head and writing something down on his notepad. “If you can’t answer a simple question like that then what hope do you have when you’re with a woman?”

  “The girl on top,” I shouted just to shut him.

  “Tut tut,” Jack shook his head and wrote something else down on his notepad. “Wrong answer.”

  “Why is it the wrong answer?” I demanded to know.

  “Too lazy. You put too much control in the woman’s court,” Jack said looking at me over his glasses which were now perched on the end of his nose.

  “What should I have answered then?”

  “Doggy style,” he said placing his notepad down like he had just come up with the solution to the perfect sexual manoeuvre. “Would you like me to elaborate?”

  “Please do.”

  He got to his feet and cleared his throat. “The doggy position puts all of the control in the man’s court. He controls the speed, the angle, and rest periods. The woman cannot direct proceedings while on all fours. She might be able to back into the man, but at any given time the man can take back control of the reins. Come here and let me show you.”

  I looked at him blankly for a second before realising he was deadly serious. “I am not letting you demonstrate on me. No way.”

  “Hey!” Jack shouted, pointing his finger at me. “You told me you had done exactly what the others told you to do. I want that same respect. Now get over here and get on all fours.”

  “Jack, I’m not doing this...”

  “Trust me Dan,” Jack said placing his glasses down on the table. “This is the only way to learn. You’ll thank me.”

  And for the second time that day I agreed to what Jack was asking against my better judgement. Reluctantly I got down in front of him on my knees. “No funny business okay?”

  “You have my word that this will be strictly professional” Jack said. “Now get on all fours, bitch.” I shot him a look before shaking my head and getting on all fours. I felt him grab me by the waist and pull me towards him.

  “I can’t do this...” I said trying to get up, but Jack forced my head down and I sprawled on to the carpet.

  “Lesson one,” Jack said with one hand pushing down against my head and the other clutching onto my waist. “In the doggy position the man controls the situation.”

  He started thrusting his pelvis back and forth, forcing my face to rub against the carpet. “Jack, if you don’t get off me...”

  “Lesson two. In this position you can apply the old reach around. You can go upstairs or downstairs.” Jack freed the hand from my waist to reach around to my chest and groin area.

  “Seriously Jack, if you don’t get off me I’ll...” I turned my face to meet his gaze to let him know I meant business, but he just interrupted me again.

  “Lesson three. The doggy position means you don’t have to look at her face if she is fugly,” he said using his abbreviation for fucking ugly, and with the hand that was pushing my head down he turned my face away back towards the carpet to stop me looking at him.

  “Lesson four,” Jack said taking a firmer grip as I tried to squirm out of the way. “The doggy position is the ideal position to switch fro
m vagina to anal.”

  “Get off me now!” But as I tried pushing away I lost balance and my chin crashed against the carpet.

  “And the final lesson today class, after giving the girl anal pleasure, you can play that well-known game of taste your ass,” and with that Jack slapped my arm and twisted my hips to spin me on to my back and straddled me with his groin in my face. “Taste your ass, bitch.”

  “GET THE FUCK OFF ME!” And with all the strength I could muster I launched Jack across the room.

  “What’s your bloody problem?” Jack said rubbing his head.

  “I think I’ve learned enough for one day thank you very much,” I said hauling myself back up on to the sofa.

  “Suit yourself,” Jack said getting to his feet. “We’ll pick this up later on in the week. Our next class will be how to perform perfect oral pleasure.”

  “Get out.”

  Chapter 19: The Dating Game

  Friday, June 26, 2009 - 8.13pm

  Drought Clock: 176 days, 4 hours, 24 minutes

  I had a new look. I had started to work on a new physique. And I had tried to erase all memory of Jack’s lesson on proper man moves. Now I had to get out there and make it work. I had arranged to meet the boys in the Nelson Arms to go through my strategy. The plan was simple – I was to arrange dates with as many girls as possible and play the odds game with the hope that at least one of them would be willing to shag me.

  “Where is your Little Black Book, then?” Rob asked.

  In this case my Little Black Book consisted of mobile contacts, email addresses, and Facebook friends. “Here you go,” I said handing them a piece of paper with a list of names I had drawn up.

  “You have to take this name off,” Rob said crossing out the name of Sarah Young. “We know her brother Billy.”

  “So what?” I said.

  “If you've known a bloke for more than 24 hours, his sister is off limits forever,” Rob explained. “Unless you plan to marry her.”

  “That reminds me, how is your sister Ollie?” Jack said.

  “Behave yourself,” Ollie said pointing at Jack with the top of his beer bottle.

  “Let me ask you guys a question,” Jack said shifting forward in his seat, holding out two fingers. “Why does Ollie’s sister masturbate with these two fingers?”

  “I’m warning you, Jack,” Ollie said.

  “Because they’re mine!” Jack said cracking up. Even Ollie had a smile on his face.

  “You probably don’t want to contact this one either,” Rob said pointing at Adele Tompkinson’s name. “Remember the story she spread about Ryan Jefferson?”

  We all nodded as we recalled of how Ryan got stuck with a nickname that still haunted him to this day. Rumour has it that halfway through sex, poor Ryan had an asthma attack and needed to stop to get his inhaler. Adele had apparently been so put out by this, that she had not bothered to help him find the inhaler. While the poor guy was gasping for breath she sat on the side of the bed sulking. To add insult to injury, she told everyone the story and Ryan became known as the Weezy Lover, sung to the tune of the Phil Collins song She’s an Easy Lover.

  We whittled the list down to three names. Rob handed me the piece of paper and I took a swig on my bottle of beer. I looked at the names and wondered if one of those girls could be the one to help bring an end to my drought. Only time would tell.

  Date One

  Who: Hannah Kennedy

  When: Tuesday, June 30

  Where: Dinner in Chinatown

  Background: Old school friend who recently got in touch on Facebook.

  “Do you remember Miss Clarke, the art teacher?” I asked Hannah as our food was brought to our table.

  “Yes, I do!” Hannah said. “She was the one who used to disappear midway through class to have a sneaky fag outside.”

  It was good reminiscing about the old days and talking about things I hadn’t thought about for years. Hannah hadn’t changed much. She still had long brown hair and a pretty little nose. I had sent her a message on Facebook asking if she fancied meeting up and she had replied almost instantly saying we should meet for dinner after work one evening.

  “And how about Mr Thembury, the French teacher,” I said tucking into my chicken and cashew nuts. “He used to get so worked up when he was telling the class to be quiet that he would have tears in his eyes.”

  “Or Mr Neal, the geography teacher, who wore that really bad wig!” Hannah said, and we both cracked up. This was going great. I kicked myself for not thinking about doing this before. Meeting up with an old friend put me completely at ease.

  “I really miss those days,” I said shovelling some rice into my mouth. “It would be great to go back and relive our time at school.”

  “Hmmm,” Hannah nodded, but had an awkward look on her face.

  “Everything ok?”

  “It’s nothing really,” Hannah drunk some wine. “It’s just I had a bit of a tough time at school. I got bullied.”

  “I’m so sorry, I had no idea,” I said putting down my chopsticks and placing my hand on top of hers. “If I had known I would never have brought it up.”

  “It’s okay, it’s not your fault.”

  “We don’t have to talk about this. We can change the subject if you like?”

  “No, that’s okay,” she said holding my hand. “It would be nice to talk about it. I haven’t really told anyone about this before.”

  Hannah had seemed so happy at school, but here she was looking for a shoulder to cry on. She looked so vulnerable.

  I could definitely use this to my advantage.

  Okay, I was a despicable human being to prey on this poor girl’s weakness. But I knew it would be something Jack would do, and he wasn’t suffering from any sort of drought at the moment.

  “Tell me what happened?”

  She took a deep breath. “Things were fine until the final year. I had been getting good grades and keeping my head down.”

  “Go on,” I said stroking her hand.

  “Then one day during a science class it happened. I didn’t mean for it to happen, but it just came from nowhere. And you know what kids are like at school. They can be so cruel, but I couldn’t help it. It wasn’t my fault.”

  “What happened?” I said, intrigued.

  “We were set a test on the Periodic Table. It was silent apart from the noise of pencils scratching against paper. And that’s when it happened?”

  “What happened?” I asked again, this time a little too eager. The suspense was killing me. A multitude of possibilities raced through my head.

  “I fanny farted.”

  “You what?” I said pulling my hand away in disgust. Did she say what I think she said?

  “I fanny farted,” Hannah said with her head in her hands. “And I did it again. And again. And again. I couldn’t stop. It became a real problem for me. The kids teased me and called me Fanny Fart Kennedy. It was horrible.”

  “No shit,” I said, and then I realised I might have been coming across a little insensitive. “I mean, you poor thing.” But that didn’t stop her.

  “As I got older it became more of a problem, especially with boyfriends. I was with a guy who dumped me because I fanny farted while we were in the 69er position. I was horrified.”

  And she didn’t stop there either.

  “I had no control over them. They would go off at the most random of places. At the cinema, at work, at funerals. It got so bad the doctor put me on antidepressants.” She paused. “And then I spent six weeks in a mental institute.”

  You couldn’t make this shit up.

  “You spent six weeks in a mental institute...” I hesitated to finish, not quite believing I would ever utter this sentence to anyone. “... because you suffered from fanny farts?”

  Hannah nodded. “But it’s okay now. I do pelvic floor exercises, tensing the muscles down below and that keeps it under control.”

  I looked at Hannah and I could see the pain behind her e
yes. This poor girl had obviously suffered from something that is quite natural and probably happens to a lot of girls. It wasn’t her fault. My heart really went out to her. I felt guilty for judging her.

  Then from under the table came a noise similar to that of air escaping a balloon.

  “Sorry.”

  Date Two

  Who: Kayleigh Marconi

  When: Saturday, July 11

  Where: Picnic at Hyde Park

  Background: A former work colleague from the bar I worked in while I was at university.

  “This was a nice idea,” Kayleigh said as I took a bite from my sandwich.

  And it was a nice idea. It was a scorching hot day and the park was packed with people making the most of the weather. The park had a lot of history. When Henry VIII claimed the land in the sixteenth century it became a royal hunting ground. It seemed an appropriate spot seeing as I had very much been on the hunt for the last six months.

  “So tell me what you have been up to since we last saw each other,” I asked.

  “Where do I start?” she said, pausing to think as she chewed on her ham salad sandwich. “Sooo many things have happened over the last three years. Oooh, I know!” she said very upbeat. “I am now a professional singer.”

  “Wow,” I was impressed.

  “Yeah, I cut a dance track last year but it didn’t get released because the DJ was doing his GCSE’s.”

  Not quite as impressive as it had first sounded. Perhaps I was being too judgmental. Never in my life had I become remotely close to releasing a song.