Sunday, January 16, 2011

The "Saw IV" Story

In my final year of high school, I was forced to take a third-tier drawing class along with a group of students that were one year younger than me. It took place after my designated lunch period, but during another, meaning that it was the most prone to be skipped on a day-to-day basis. The teacher, a 30-something, once-great artist that decided that family was more important than becoming famous, saw my not-giving-a-shit attitude and simply let me slide for most of the year.

Until finals came around. The year I was to graduate, my school had begun enforcing a strict policy stating that all classes must have a written portion of the exam to go along with whatever else the teachers felt like they needed to throw at us. Meaning that, rather than give us all fudged grades on shitty "art" that barely stayed within the final exam project guidelines, art teachers were now forced to actually grade papers based on facts, not "interpretation."

Which, of course, put an end to my away-from-class excursions, and forced me to interact with the motley crew of people that were out to discover and hone their artistic abilities.

Aside #1: I'm not going to sit here and make comparisons to The Breakfast Club in my attempts at describing how diverse the individuals were in this class. Not because that's a cliche, but because you couldn't understand just how different everyone really was. Classes this diverse would have made John Hughes rethink the classroom dynamic in a film setting, trust me.

At this point in time, I was fresh from being rallied back and forth between two girls for several months, and frankly, was not looking for any sort of relationship with anyone. And as any person that has ever been in this situation could have told you, that was exactly when two girls, two best friends that were in this very art class decided they wanted to jump my bones.

On side #1, I had Amanda. She was:

-An interesting person with stories I could relate to.
-Taller than me.
-Beautiful and curvy.
-A good artist, actually. Or rather, a decent artist.

On side #2, I had Tiffany. She was:

-Shorter than me, with a great figure.
-Loud. So loud.

Day after day, these two would compete for my attention, and I would gladly give it to them. At this point, I was so caught up in feeling sorry for myself over my recent heartbreak(s) that I would have gladly accepted anything of the sort without much fuss, never mind the fact that I considered them both attractive. They both appeared to be enjoying the game, neither ever seeming uncomfortable with the situation they had put themselves in.

Naturally, after a few weeks of this, they both gave me their phone numbers within the same three-day period. Tiffany had broken up with her boyfriend of nine months a few days previous (the fact that she had a boyfriend being news to me), and wanted to see me sometime soon outside of class.

Definitely leaning towards pursuing Amanda at this point, I made plans to see Tiffany on a boring Saturday afternoon, at her house, where her parents would likely be keeping a watchful eye over the two of us teens.

So around 1 'o clock on said Saturday, I showed up at her house. She opened the door, pulled me inside, and started furiously kissing me.

Surprised, but definitely not thinking ahead, I started kissing her back. We migrated into a room containing a TV set and a couch, the latter of which Tiffany had thought to cover awkwardly with several blankets. After sitting me down on the couch, she walked over to the TV and turned it on, for what I assumed would be background noise.

"Do you mind if I put this in, while we...?" her voice trailed off, as she held up the case for the movie Saw IV.

"Um, sure?" I answered, not sure of what to make of the scene.

She put in the movie, started it, dimmed the lights and walked back over to me on the couch. Sitting on my lap, she started kissing me again as the opening of the movie began.

Aside #2: For those of you that have never seen a Saw film before, every film begins with one of the series' infamous "traps" being sprung on a person or a few people.

Clothes started coming off, and things started getting...more passionate (for lack of a better word). Soon enough, we were both completely naked and kissing on her couch. What happened next should have been easy, except for one problem: having a gory film play in the background is not my idea of "setting the mood." Simply put, the film's content was distracting me to the point of flaccidity, despite the fact that I had a perfectly attractive, naked young woman sitting on the same piece of furniture as me, practically begging me to have sex with her.

So I did what any man would do when put into this position: I made the best of an awful fucking situation. First, I positioned Tiffany between the TV screen and myself, ensuring that it was out of view. Second, I forced blood to rush to my penis with pure willpower alone, in a feeble attempt to retain some piece of my manhood throughout this event.

Not long later, after what felt like an erectile marathon, I finally felt like I could say I had finished without rousing suspicion.

Aside #3: We fake orgasms too, ladies. But only when we have to.

"I'm going to go take a shower. You're welcome to join me," she told me, after we'd caught our breath.

"Um, I need to go home pretty soon, so I think I'll just go," I replied, still trying to act normally.

So I got up, got dressed, and left.

But the story doesn't end there. After Amanda had found out about Tiffany and I's tryst, she was, of course, upset. But not with me. Apparently, Tiffany had lied to the both of us about the status of her relationship, meaning that I was nothing but a trophy, and Amanda was nothing more than squashed competition.

Of course, Amanda wasn't too happy about this, and told Tiffany's boyfriend about what had happened (kindly omitting my name), and they broke up. Less than two weeks later, I received a call from Tiffany, crying, claiming that I had impregnated her. I only said four words before hanging up and never speaking to her again:

"I didn't come, bitch."

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