I love a good steak, and when I get my hands on one that is rare enough (and I do like them rare) they tend to go through me like so much soup- so I have learned to avoid them while in situations…. well, like these.

I was dating a girl from Schaumburg some years ago, and it was our habit to see a movie or have a nice dinner and go to one of the many local industrial parks for a little privacy (nopbody in those places after dark) and settle in on landscaped lawns and play hide the salami.

On one such occasion, we’d just had Prime Rib at her parents home, and were basking in the afterglow, when the Urge Arrived. We were close to a large-ish retention pond, so not wanting to damage it’s ecosystem any more than necesary, I grabbed some paper towel and trundled off to a handily mulched evergreen. I dropped trou and squatted (in those days I still had knees) and proceeded to open the fire hose of unadulterated vile. I didn’t think it was going to stop, as a matter of fact, and by the time it DID stop there was a thin moat of pure nasty around the base of the little spruce.

I cleaned as best I could (paper towel makes poor asswipe for a variety of reasons) and returned to my date. For reasons I still don’t understand, this interlude did NOT put her off, and in fact she participated with renewed vigour what my call of nature had interrupted.

I’ll never understand wimmen.