[Continued from "Just When It Was Perfect … (Part 3)."]

Jules Verne and I got together several times.  I learned some interesting things about him; things that if I had known up front might have prevented me from fucking him, much less making him a regular.  But by the time I learned the things I already liked him and already liked fucking him.

He was a frat boy.  Mind you, when we met, Jules Verne was 24, and had only recently gotten out of college.  Where he was in a fraternity.  My one experience with frat parties was unpleasant, though it was a good story.  I wasn’t so much anti-frat boy as anti-frat mentality.  Jules Verne, the frat boy, was an interesting guy.  Jules Verne, dude in a frat, well, I didn’t know him.

Jules Verne and I never socialized with his friends, which, after I found out the only music he liked was clubby dance music and the Rolling Stones (to which we always listened when we were at his place), I thought was a good thing.  He told me he went out to the kinds of clubs where he and his friends could get bottle service.  And that’s when our age difference became apparent, because while I used to do that sort of thing, I don’t have the patience any more for loud dance music, or cover charges, or drunk assholes.

But I knew Jules Verne on a one-on-one basis.  I tried not to hold against him that he drank Coors Light.  And chewed tobacco.  Gross and gross.  I don’t like beer at all, so Coors Light is no different to me than any other kind of beer, but I’ve heard from beer aficionados that Coors Light could barely be considered beer.  Ok, so I “heard” this from the Viking, to whom I’d offered cans of Coors Light Jules Verne left in our fridge.  The Viking wanted nothing to do with it.

One night I was home alone and wanted to drink but the corner liquor store was already closed (Who the fuck closes a liquor store at 10:30 pm?!) so I went ahead and drank one of Jules Verne’s Coors Lights.  Uh, no.  I still don’t like beer.

The chewing tobacco thing especially grossed me out.  When I was in sixth grade (grade six to you Canadians) I moved in with my father, step-mother, step-sister, sister, and step-brother in Palo Cedro, California.  Palo Cedro is a rural outlay of Redding.  While attending Junction Middle School, the sixth graders, the class of which both my step-sister and I were members, were treated to some educational videos of the scared straight variety.

Because most of the students were white and rural, the educational videos showed us the dangers of chewing tobacco.  We saw guys – they were always guys – who had parts of their tongues, lips, faces, and jaws removed due to various kinds of cancer, all of which could be attributed to – or at least correlated with (though I didn’t understand the difference at the time) – chew.  The videos focused on the typical kids there at Junction:  White, rural, rodeo-attending, with acres of land on which they could ride their horses, or more likely, ride their all-terrain vehicles.  My family fit only the white part.  We were really suburban who had happened to find an affordable house large enough for each of the four kids to have his or her own bedroom.  We didn’t have any land other than the yard surrounding our rented house.

Nonetheless, the videos worked on me.  Chewing tobacco was fucking gross.  All the spitting.  The wad of yucky stuff.

So when I saw that Jules Verne’s lower lip protruded in an odd way I asked.  Apparently chewing tobacco and drinking Coors Light were leftover from his fraternity days.  I chalked it up to a bunch of spoiled rich kids aping less spoiled, less rich kids.  Jules Verne swore that wasn’t the case, that he really did like Coors Light and chewing tobacco.  Whatever.

To be continued ….

I swear.  True story.

Tags: sexy?

Categories: True Story.

---