Yum Yum Donuts
August 18, 2000
I haven’t met the man who won me in the chat sex contest, but I know who he is. He prank-called my radio show this summer. He pretended to be a Dutchman and I don’t remember what else he lied about, but I totally believed him. At the end of the call he revealed that it was all untrue. Then he called back impersonating another foreigner and I believed him again. This is not what I was hoping for. I wanted someone disgusting and pathetic and not my type to win, and I would be prostrate before the unalterable fact that this was the winner and these are the rules (I’ve always liked unalterable facts). But Grant (the crank caller) is totally my type. Well, one-third my type. I like them old and tricky, and anything but British. Grant’s only twenty-three, and British.
The first time I met Dave, I got totally turned on because he was lying for no reason. Even now I don’t trust a word that comes out of his mouth. The other day he brought home tiki lamps from a garage sale, and he said the seller used to put flowers in them, not oil. Later he revealed that he’d made that up. I try to impose order on Dave’s lying, I search for a nervous tic (his “tell”), I try to find an underlying reason for it all and there’s none! He’ll say he went to one store and later confess that really he went to another. It’s stimulating because I’m constantly the
Grant calls me a cheeky monkey. Grant calls everyone a cheeky monkey. He’s a terrible flirt. He’s a terrible man. I can’t wait for him to get here! And I’m even more excited, if that’s possible, about
At five I got up and walked around. I was the alien, chartering streets I’d never heard of. No cars slid past me. Nothing was open. After half-an-hour, I found a gas station, but they didn’t have coffee.
At last I saw Yum Yum Donuts & Coffee in the distance, all lit up, a surprise. That’s where I am now, writing. That’s why I held this contest to make me and Dave unfamiliar to each other and ourselves, and love an unrecognizable place. I don’t want to live scared exactly, but a little
We had a rule that no matter what fooling around we did with other people, it was by fingers and mouth alone. I decided to change that rule in the contest on a whim, I guess because it was a rule. When you follow your own dictates, when you keep doing something simply because you once said that’s what you believed, then you’re living in memory. And every time we’ve done these wrong sex things, or when Dave rode horses for me even though the mere thought of those tall beasts made him almost pass out, he looks like Yum Yum Donuts to me, shining in the distance, and I’m so surprised; I can’t wait to get to him and drink him all up.
Then I got to thinking . . . Grant must be looking like a fireplace too. I have to send him a note advising him to not leave the house between now and the 9th.
Lisa Carver and Nerve.com, Inc.