on it,

If You Don't Know What a Libertine is, I Won't Have Sex With You... Apparently

I don’t know why, but it sounds shallow to say that I didn’t sleep with someone because she didn’t know what the term Libertine meant. I feel it's snobbish, somehow, to set your standard on a single word. However, looking back on the situation... yeah that’s totally why we didn’t bang.

See, I met her through a mutual friend. Now he had some specific things to say about her, because he was kind of a tight-assed misogynist who I think was probably struggling with some issues regarding his own sexuality. That’s neither here nor there, but it’s important to understand that he said she was a slut who’d fuck boys or girls because she didn’t care and she was a slut. Yes, he started and ended the sentence with the slut declaration. Now, if you know me, you know where this is going. I had to meet this person. If this guy I knew was going into full granny pearl clutching mode, I had to meet the person who was causing those pearls to be clutched.

And she was... really good looking. I mean, really cute and had the sort of body that makes a guy in his mid-twenties sit up and take notice. And she had... a habit. She would laugh and lean against whoever was nearest and press herself against them and press her cheek next to theirs and laugh and it was MUTHAFUCKIN’ enticing. She had a certain sexual aggression, which I like, and a confidence of self which I’m also a fan of. Her stated preferences, sexual and otherwise, put check marks in a lot of boxes for me. I'm way into sluts is what I'm saying.

One of the first conversations we had, she was driving and either I mentioned that he had told me about her or she had asked if he had. I can’t remember and I don’t intend to go into the fine details of the memory palace to find out. I could, but what the fuck is the point? The important part of this story is that I admitted he had indeed mentioned her to me.

“He said you were something of a modern day libertine.” I said, she said she studied poetry and literature, so I figured that little softball would be good.

“What does that mean?” She asked, which I judged to be a decent question, because that statement could go multiple ways.

“Well, I’ll admit, those weren’t his exact words. I’m not sure he knows what a libertine is.”

“Well, I don’t know what that is.” she admitted, and I kind of deflated a little.

“He intimated that you were a sexually free individual.” I said, because I had all these two cent words, I’d already paid for them, fuck if they were going to rest on the goddamn shelf!

“Did he call me a slut?” She asked.

“Yeah, that was closer to his terminology.” I said. “And he said you didn’t make distinctions between genders.”

“I’m bi if that’s what he means.”

And that was the first problem, there were others, but that was a problem. I mean... I mean... I mean I’m sitting here on the bench, I’m sitting here on the not getting Altoid blowjobs bench, because she doesn’t know what a libertine is. And do not think for one moment that was her idea, because telling me she had Altoids and mentioning how amazing they made her blowjobs was very much her idea. Her ideas had to do with me getting peppermint blowjobs as a starter. Then we’d go over to a friend and she would show me exactly how bi she could be.

Looking back as I am now, I should have been all over that. She was hot, into me, and while trying to court me explained that she had absolutely zero limits if only I would make suggestions. She enjoyed the sort of music I liked, she enjoyed the kind of sexual shenanigans I enjoy. And there was no good reason to avoid this, besides having a slight, niggling feeling that to bang her would be a violation of Rule #2, which I knew better than to ignore. Her habit of sliding her hand down the front of my shirt to run her fingers through my chest hair could have overcome that though, I’m pretty sure.

But she didn’t know what was meant by the term “libertine” and a apparently, that’s my Rubicon. Or my Durin’s Bridge if you are of a geekier mindset. Instead, we did nothing. There is more than the one word, she had a certain level of incuriosity about the world. She just wasn't someone I could stoop down to mentally and she wasn't up to climbing my mental tree. As a result, I never laid an indecent hand on her (my right, if you're keeping track) , or even kissed her, because she missed out on basic terms. Had she known what the term meant, I could have been – it’s unsavory to say what (or where) I could have been, frankly.

So the moral of this story, and there is one, is that frogs should never give rides to scorpions. Or something. I don't know, do what you want.

Etiquette: Killing Zombies

When killing a zombie, shooting for the head is not the only option. While destroying the brain is regularly seen as one’s best bet, removing the head entirely is also acceptable. What is often questioned about, and may be different for each society (always check local customs when traveling) is does one destroy one’s own friends and family upon those people being bitten and turning into zombies themselves.

In the West it is considered good form to kill one’s own. This is seen as taking care of one’s loved ones in a final act of mercy. It is acceptable however, to take the burden for a friend if they find themselves unable to kill their family. In Eastern countries, where ancestor worship is more prevalent, it is considered bad form for a person to put down their own family. If one is in an Eastern country, it is considered the highest honor to kill a friend’s family for them.

Etiquette (pt 4)

When sacrificing a virgin to your dark gods in exchange for unholy powers, always remember the young lady in question may not be familiar with all aspects of the ritual. If you’ve had the girl retrieved from a nearby village the moment of blood shed may in fact be the first she’s hearing of the while thing. You need to always be patient and understand that any screams for help are only as a result of her lack of understanding for your mad need for power.

Never shout at the virgin or make her feel that her reluctance to give up her life is in anyway causing you the slightest bit of difficulty. Just because you’re going to rip out her heart and rape her corpse, that’s no reason to cease being anything but a gentleman.

Etiquette (pt 3)

When the Atomic War strikes and Armageddon is upon us, rules of etiquette and decorum still apply.

While it is important not to allow your personal bomb shelter to become over-crowded by waves of your panicking neighbors who came less prepared, one should remember not to allow the situation to get away from oneself. Brandishing a weapon might become necessary at some point, but even the lethal force is rarely considered polite. Never start with the shotgun, simply explain that the shelter only holds so many and there simply is not longer any room.

Never resort of vulgarity. Screaming “Back off motherfucker, or I’ll spray you all over the landscape” rarely makes anything better and never earns us any friends. Instead a simple ”If required, I will shoot you… motherfucker” spoken in a calm and steady voice will be sufficient in most circumstances.

Etiquette (pt 2)

When at a dinner party, it is considered highly gauche if one uses the fish fork to eviscerate the host’s brother. A good host should provide a Brother Killing Knife, which in a properly kept household should have a red handle and a narrow razor sharp blade. One should not make a scene, simply pick up the knife, walk behind the brother, grab his forehead, pressing the back of his head against either the chair or yourself, and cut his throat with a single swift stroke before stabbing him in the chest just to make sure. Press the head down after cutting the throat to avoid excess blood spray and make sure to leave the knife in the chest to avoid an even large mess.

After the dinner is over, it is generally considered a requirement to remove the body for your host and offering to pay for any cleaning which inevitably will have to be performed.