This is me in my senior AP US government and politics class. Things haven’t changed much. The desks are smaller at university so I usually sleep on my friends’ shoulders…or whisper pretty nothings in their ears if I feel they need a distraction from class.
The professors also don’t give a shit if I catch a few winks whereas Coach Boyd would rip me a new one. I bet he chewed my ass shortly after this photo was snapped.
Coach Boyd was quite a character. His defining trait? Aside from his extreme dislike of the French (the man ordered Freedom Fries at the drive thru), his boisterous laugh (haw-HAAAAAW!), and the pungent scent of cigs one could smell within a three foot radius, he only had eight fingers. He’s missing his right thumb and his left middle finger. I remember he tried to write something on the board once and he dropped the marker. “That wouldn’t have happened if I had my thumb! Haw-HAAAAAW! Laugh, Jess! STOP STARING AT MY HANDS!” He had some pretty rad stories about how he lost his fingerlings. My favorite:
The Vietnam war ended so I gave a thumbs up out of my fox hole and some damned VC ass wipe shot off my fucking thumb. Then I gave him the bird. …sum bitch shot that off too.
The real story: Shot them off with a shotgun in a squirrel hunting accident down in Georgia. I shit you not.
While Coach Boyd was funny he had a few vices. The man enjoyed pleasures of the flesh.
He was married to the accounting teacher at my high school. She was a stately woman in her 50’s, by my reckoning: short white hair, tall, smartly dressed. She would’ve been lovely if she hadn’t sneered all the time, making her look as if her upper lip smelled of horse shit. She was probably a beauty before life had taken its toll on her. I guess life made Coach Boyd fall out of love with her too.
There had been talk amongst the partiers that Coach Boyd had been seen with a woman around Itaewon (a bar,clubbing and shopping district by the military base) near Hooker Hill. She became known as Boyd’s Hooker (I can neither confirm nor deny if this name is fitting or not). Rumors spread, photos were taken, and it all eventually made it back to the eyes and ears of Mrs. Boyd. They divorced before the beginning of the following school year.
Mrs. Boyd reverted back to her maiden name, and Coach Boyd brought his mistress to all of the school sponsored events he chaperoned for. It was at the J-ROTC ball that I feasted my eyes on the succubus. She was… ordinary. She wasn’t 20 years younger than Mrs. Boyd. She was of a similar figure and build. She didn’t even look like a home wrecker. Why did Coach Boyd switch out his wife for this new woman?
And then I saw her grab a handful of Boyd ass and smile. He smiled back and placed a four-fingered hand on her derriere. That man most definitely got laid.
I learned something from that exchange. You gotta fuck your husband to keep him around, keep him happy. And I don’t mean that shit where you lie on the bed like a dead fish every Friday night hoping he’ll finish before The Real Housewives starts playing. You have to fuck like you’re a teenager with raging hormones. Give him a boner that could drill through mountains. Suck the chrome off his pipe and then gargle his dirty load before you swallow it.
There will undoubtedly be people (mostly women) who will say something along the lines of “our relationship is deeper than just sex.” I won’t deny or argue with that, but sex is pretty damned important for a romantic affair. Anyone who says otherwise is a fucking idiot and will probably have unsatisfying relationships.
Or maybe I’m wrong. I just know how I’m gonna handle shit if I ever get married: