Day 2: The Break-Up(?)
Knock knock-knock knock. Jimmy had just finished his last class of the day and had just returned to his dorm room when someone knocked on his dorm-room door.
From the pattern of knocks, Jimmy knew his visitor could only be Debbie Smith, his quote-unquote girlfriend.
As nice as I am to her all the time, is it too much to ask that just once she be nice back, instead of trying to play me?
—as he opened the door. Sure enough, there stood Debbie in the hallway. Jimmy opened the door wide, but Debbie did not step forward into his dorm room.
Debbie was descended from gypsies, she had told Jimmy on their first date. He believed the story—she had olive-colored skin, dark-brown eyes, and thick, black, straight hair. But within those parameters, Debbie looked ordinary, just as Jimmy looked ordinary.
Debbie was no vision of beauty, and at the moment—with her arms crossed and her face frowning—Debbie looked especially unbeautiful.
“We agreed,” Debbie began, “that you would call me every day this weekend. You broke your promise.”
“ ‘We’ did not ‘agree,’ ” Jimmy said. “I remember not making any promises, beyond ‘I’ll see.’ Anyway, I called you once and texted you three times.”
Still standing in the hallway, Debbie frowned. “You ask so much from me—”
Jimmy had asked Debbie for a blowjob on their third date. Not only had she turned him down flat, but she had never let him hear the end of it.
“—and you complain, Jimmy, whenever I ask you for some little sign you care.”
“You’re not reasonable. Demanding that I interrupt time with my family to check-in with you is not a ‘little sign.’ ”
“Perhaps, if indeed you were with your family. Maybe you spent all weekend with old girlfriends.”
Jimmy had learned, the hard way, that he could not win if he tried to defend himself against one of Debbie’s false accusations. So instead he laughed. “You caught me. Me and three women had an orgy on Friday night, and it took me all weekend to recover.”
Debbie’s eyes narrowed; Jimmy was ignoring her script.
Nuts to her. Yesterday around this time, two strangers were treating Jimmy like a minor hero because he had returned four gold coins that had not belonged to him; but today Debbie was disrespecting Jimmy for the 2,748th time. For the first time since he and Debbie had started dating, Jimmy did not feel like humoring her.
Then Debbie herself broke the script: Her face wrinkled up and she started to cry. “Why do you keep hurting me? Don’t you know how much I care for you?”
“Debbie, please don’t cry. Or if you insist on crying, come in my room and cry.” Jimmy was 99 percent sure that what was going on was that Debbie, by standing in his hallway and crying, was putting on a performance to embarrass him in front of the other guys on his floor.
Debbie replied, “I’ll come in”—sniffle—“if you first apologize for not calling me four times.”
“Four times? There are only three days in a weekend: Friday, Saturday, and Sunday.”
“You only called me once in those three days, not three times. Nor have you called me earlier today, either. You owe me four phone calls.”
Jimmy shook his head. “No apologizing. But step out of the hallway; you’re disturbing my neighbors.”
“Is your pride so important to you?” Sniffle. “Do I have to do something drastic to get my apology, which you would give me freely if you cared for me?”
Jimmy noted the implied threat, and worried about it. But what he said aloud was, “I’m still not apologizing.”
Debbie yelled, “A HANDY SOURCE OF BLOWJOBS, IS THAT ALL YOU WANT FROM ME? YOU AND I ARE FINISHED, JIMMY!”
Jimmy the peacemaker, Jimmy the helpful, Jimmy the kind and generous—Jimmy was pissed. “Get in here!” he said.
Jimmy’s right hand shot out, he grabbed Debbie by her arm, he yanked her into his dorm room, then Jimmy’s left hand slammed the door.
Jimmy expected Debbie next to cry, or to scream, or to try to walk out of his dorm room. Instead, she was looking at him with a mixture of expressions.
Jimmy tried to make himself speak calmly. “Do you really want to break up with me over this? The phone calls?”
“Why shouldn’t I, when you—What I mean is, you—No, I don’t want to break up with you, truthfully....”
Then Debbie asked in a quiet, nervous voice, “Do you want to break up with me?”
“Yes, Debbie, part of me does. I am so tired of you trying to control my life. And the sex isn’t gold-medal either.”
“Because I don’t give blowjobs?”
“Gosh golly, would it kill you to suck my cock for five minutes? I’m not even asking to cum in your mouth. Just could you do it for a short time, once in a while, so that I don’t think that you think I’m a diseased pervert?”
Debbie looked at Jimmy for several seconds, as she wiped tears from her eyes. (Thankfully, Debbie had stopped crying.) Then she said, “Yes, I can suck you for five minutes.”
Sure enough, Debbie walked up to Jimmy, kissed him on the lips, then knelt down in front of him. Seconds later, Jimmy’s naked cock was in front of her face.
Jimmy’s cock was soft, because he suspected that Debbie was once again trying to work a mind-game on him.
Debbie, while kneeling in front of Jimmy, said, “I never realized till I decided to break up with you, how sexy you really are!”
With that, Debbie put her mouth on his dick.
Debbie sucked Jimmy’s cock for six minutes and change. The blowjob was as inept and as unexciting as Jimmy had expected. Jimmy lost count how many times he called out “Teeth, teeth!”
Still, when Jimmy looked at the whole picture, he did not complain. Not only did he get a half-blowjob from Debbie that he had not expected, but she never repeated her demand for an apology.