Friday, July 15, 2005

The Bedside Table

Forget the kind of car he drives. Forget the clothes he wears. Forget the type of job he has. Forget what’s on his computer. I have come to realize that there is a device in every man's home that can offer more insight into his personality than 14 Portugese Lesbian Fortunetellers each packing a top-of-the-line crystal ball.

Okay, it goes like this: a friend of mine recently spent the night with a trick at said trick's abode (no, this is not really me!). The next morning the trick left to run errands to free his day for my friend while my friend slept. My friend woke up to find the obligatory note stating the trick's , hisETA, so my friend reckoned that although curiosity killed the cat, his pussy was fairly well protected. So he decided to do what that woman in those old Tidy-Bowl commercials used to do: SNOOP. How could he help himself? The Tidy-Bowl woman couldn't help herself and she even admitted it on national television. What a prime opportunity to pry the depths of one's existence. Everyone's done it. EVERYONE (so don't sit there with a holier than thou look on your face). I'm not condoning it mind you, but it does happen.

When my friend returned from his evening of debauchery the next afternoon, he told me what he discovered during his little exploration. He didn't venture any further than the bedside table to catch an inner glimpse of this man with whom he was no doubt in unadulterated lust. Much to my friend's chagrin, however, Mr. Wonderful turned out to be a pig: aside from the five, count 'em five, tubes of K-Y (why the would anyone need five tubes of K-Y?), there was also a very large assortment of porno magazines, some douching products, an unmarked video tape (which, sorry, I would have had to play), six cock rings, a set of nipple clamps, a letter from an old boyfriend dated several months prior, tissues that had been previously used (for God knows what) and, of yeah, not one dildo, but seven. Seven! And once more for emphasis - SEVEN.

Well, I got to thinking. In the likely chance that I would actually bring someone home with me and absentmindedly allow him the opportunity to sort through the small three-drawer nightstand beside my bed, would he be bothered?

. . . would I still be considered an attractive catch in relation to the articles in the drawers?

. . . would he run in horror from my boudoir, clawing his face and screaming for me not to touch him or he'd call the police?

So that evening, I decided to go home and take a nice long look in my bedside table to see if it would offer any insight whatsoever into my character. What kind of person do these items tell you I am? Put them all together and what do you get? These are the honest-to-God contents of my three-drawer chest beside my bed:


A fingernail clipper, a current copy of "OUT" magazine, a lamp, an alarm clock, a glass of iced tea (recently poured, not one that has been sitting so long the tea is actually dusty and stains have coagulated around the rim), 2 black Papermate pens (I hate blue ink), a black Uniball pen, and a broken prism that had fallen from my window pane (I've been meaning to have that fixed, really I have).


The current Tmoblile bill, a small dictionary for crossword puzzles, negatives and extra pictures for my friends, 8 size "C" batteries, a pack of 12 pens, eyeglass repair kit, a stapler, a pair of scissors, 2 rolls of Scotch tape, a deck of cards, a pack of push pins, 2 breath mints, a small bottle of China Musk I bought from this granola shop in Middleburg, a thesaurus, an unopened block of Baker's semi-sweet baking chocolate squares (I have NO idea…), an offer for a free Disney tree ornament (I meant to send to Matt Gose months ago), a Kodak development envelope, a pack of Camels (and I don't even smoke!), 10 Trojan-Enz XLarge condoms (thank you), and a 2.35 ounce bottle of Astro Glide (yeah, well, you know).


A can of Universal Animal Cuts supplements, 2 leather wristbands, a can of Raid (perhaps for those tricks that just won't leave), a few folded handtowels (okay, we all know what they are!), a pack of gum, 3 protein bars, lip balm, black shoe polish, a watch, old sunglasses, and my blodd pressure monitor.


The April edition of "Esquire", a book of children's classics, a crossword puzzle book, a "DON'T PANIC!" catalog, an unopened letter from CareFirst dated February 2005, my State Farm Auto Insurance Policy, extra pages for my photo album, 2 5x7 frames, 2 more black pens, 1 red pen, 1 rubber band, some poster tack, a glass case with old glasses in it (I was wondering where they were), a Ronald McDonald pencil sharpener I got out of a Happy Meal I ordered one night through the drive-thru (I was drunk, what can I tell you), a gum eraser, a 15-foot extension cord, a box of staples, a yellow highlighter, and 34 colored pencils (rubberbanded).

So . . . would you date me or run screaming?


  1. Date. Definitely date. :)

  2. I'd date you, we could share the XL condoms...

  3. Oh homer.. don't you know condoms come in Large, XLarge, XXLarge and PleaseSewMeBackTogetherAfter?