Bad Breath and No Penis?

S. had pretty much made up her mind not to explore the nether regions of Eunuch Man. She didn’t like him, and she didn’t feel comfortable prostituting herself in the name of science and/or entertainment. (“CB, shutup, I am not sleeping with him just to see if he has a penis.” “But you wouldn’t have to actually sleep with him—” “Shutup.”)

Still, some sort of dumping was in order, which meant she would have to face him at least one more time.

S. arranged to meet Eunuch Man out on Friday night. She would be surrounded by friends, thus minimizing the amount of time actually spent speaking to Eunuch Man. She could do the polite, to-your-face break-up, without getting trapped in a long, why-are-you-dumping-me conversation.

S. had a few drinks for courage while waiting for the Eunuch Man's appearance. They must have worked because she actually managed to smile and hug him when he arrived. Unfortunately their effects soon wore off. Within fifteen minutes S. had grabbed me, told the table “We have to use the bathroom,” and hauled me off to the back of the bar. There she turned to face me with a very serious look on her face and insisted that I smell her lips.

“What—”

“Just do it!”

I sniffed. Then waited for more instructions. But when I looked at S., she was looking at me expectantly.

“Well?” she asked.

“Well what?”

“Don’t you smell it?”

“Smell what?”

“Smell again.” I leaned forward and touched my nose to her lips, inhaling deeply.

“I don’t smell anything.”

S. looked at me like this was all my fault.

“It’s on my lips, I know it. His breath reeks and I know it got on me. I just wanted you to smell it so you wouldn’t think I was crazy.”

I looked at her like she was crazy.

“Fine, let’s just go back to the table. His breath is fucking awful though.”

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” She glared at me.

Back at the table, I had my own problems to attend to. Re-Boyfriend was slurring and kissing my cheek every five seconds, telling me he loved me. This would have been sweet, except he seemed to need a response to every “I love you,” which, for almost half an hour, effectively cut my conversation down to the following circular loop: “I love you” “I love you too, can we stop saying it now?” “Sure…I love you.” Pause. “I said I love you. I said I love you.” “I love you too, can we stop saying it now?”

Eventually it became clear that Re-Boyfriend, though nobly trying to hold it together, needed to go home. I said my good-byes and wished S. luck.

“Don’t you worry, I’ll take care of her,” Eunuch Man informed me. He grabbed S.’s hand and leaned in to give her a kiss.

S. started like a wild animal and began struggling, trying to take back her hand and whipping her head away. Eunuch Man kept leaning forward, trying to kiss her, perhaps thinking this was a strange lovers game.

“I don’t want to kiss you,” S. said in a sort of panicked squeal.

“Hahahahaha. Baby, come on.” S. knocked a beer bottle off the table in an effort to get away.

There was no way his breath was that bad. She had to be over reacting due to her previous non-encounter with his penis.

I took Re-Boyfriend home and ordered cheesy fries from the diner while he passed out on the couch.

My phone rang when I was halfway through my food.

“I told him his breath smelled.”

“What?!”

“Well, first I told him I wanted to be friends. He told me that I was scared and running away from something special. So I told him his breath smelled.”

“Huh.” So much for the kind break-up. “What’d he say?”

“He said he’d go to the dentist for me and get it fixed.”

“Ha!”

“I didn’t know what to say to that! I mean, he’s going to the dentist because I told him he smelled?”

“Dude, he’s totally overcompensating for his small penis.”

“Non-existent penis.”

“S., he has to have something there.”

“No.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

“Good night.”

“Good night.”

I finished my cheesy fries and crawled into bed.

S. is going to try to break-up with him again as soon as possible. She just got momentarily thrown by his easy acceptance of his bad breath.