Avoiding Amy Jackson (16 page)

and fight for your missing bottle of lube.” - Amy

I made a quick trip home over Christmas to visit my parents in Louisville. I might have also been motivated to make the weekend excursion because one of my best friends from high school was having her bachelorette party. My friend Susan is getting ready to marry the man she starting dating when we were fifteen and I didn’t want to miss celebrating with her. We were so close growing up and I hate that we’ve lost touch since I moved to Charlotte.

Spending time with my family was nice but difficult at times. Being with them always reminds me of Benny, and the fact that he is permanently missing from my life made everything even harder. I miss him like crazy. I reflect on what it would be like if he were still a part of my life.
If he were still here.
Where would I be if my little brother were still alive? Just thinking about him and the horrific accident that took his life brings tears to my eyes. My heart breaks for him every day. Every single day I lose another small piece, and I’m afraid that one day there will be nothing left but a cavernous black hole. Whenever I allow my thoughts to wonder to the day we lost Benny, I physically feel pain in my chest—a giant hole of misery that never stops aching.

God, it hurts. It hurts like hell.

I’ve pushed my emotions down for so long that I’m scared of what will happen if I ever truly face them. This never-ending avoidance act is going to end up biting me in the ass someday. I’ve come to the stark realization that I have zero coping mechanisms. Circumvention and compartmentalization are the worst things anyone can do when they lose a loved one or go through any type of traumatic event, but I just can’t seem to help myself. I’m an avoider.

A selfish, unemotional, closed-off
avoider
.

My mom and dad were thrilled to have me home for a few days over the holidays. We opened presents and did a few Christmas traditions with family and friends. Traditions we’ve been doing since I was a kid. I loved spending time with them and catching up on what they’ve been up to over the past couple of months, but being home is just one giant reminder of what we’re all missing. A flashing, neon sign that makes my chest throb and fills my head with whys and what-ifs. And it didn’t help that my mother and father continued their daily ritual of walking to Benny’s gravesite. Christmas was no exception. I should have gone with them. I know they wanted me to, but I just couldn’t. Not once was I able to muster up the courage to visit my brother. I know this causes my mother pain she doesn’t deserve.

Despite the excruciating reminder Louisville seems to be for me, I did enjoy myself at Susan’s bachelorette party. Her maid-of-honor rented a party bus and we drove through downtown Louisville while getting sloshed. We spent the remainder of the evening at a strip club where hot guys slicked up with baby oil gyrated their cocks all over the bride-to-be. I was truly amazed at how male strippers manage to keep their dicks hard for an entire night. I found myself just staring at the giant bulges in their G-strings, waiting for one of them to go soft. I was fully prepared to scream,
“We’ve got a cock down! I repeat, we’ve got a cock down! Mayday! Mayday! Danger, Will Robinson! Hurry, someone get this guy a cock ring!”

While one of the strippers was giving me a lap dance, I proceeded to ask him one thousand and one questions about how he keeps his boner the entire night. First of all, don’t judge me. I felt like it was my civic duty to help this working man out, and if my sacrifice was paying him fifty dollars to rub his giant cock all over my legs, well consider me the Mother Teresa of strip joint patrons. And after I bought my fourth lap dance from him, because obviously you can’t get all of your questions answered in just one dance, I’d basically just bought his books for his upcoming college semester while simultaneously getting all of my answers.

Rocko was a nice guy, and I enjoyed him undulating himself all over my body. I wasn’t that thrilled with the occasional ball-to-face brushes, but that’s my cross to bear. I’m just glad that I was able to support this working guy, and the fact that I surrendered two hundred dollars out of my wallet shows I actually do have the capability of being generous sometimes. I also managed to learn that some male strippers do in fact wear cock rings, some use performance-enhancing drugs, and some actually watch porn on their breaks to get things bonerized. It’s amazing how you can learn things in the most unexpected places. Who would have thought that a trip to the strip club could also serve as an educational opportunity? I need to make trips there more often.

So all in all, I’d say my weekend trip to Louisville was a success. I got to spend some much-needed time with my parents and party my ass of in Susan’s honor. The informative cock facts were just an added bonus.

I walk off of my direct flight to Charlotte, where James has agreed to meet me at baggage claim. Ellen and Lizzy were both too busy, and I decided that I’m going to continue to give this whole friendship thing a shot with Limp Dick. He didn’t even think twice before he agreed to give me a ride home from the airport. Maybe he really is a nice guy…

I shoot him a quick text letting him know my flight just landed and I’m about five minutes away from our arranged meet-up location.

He quickly responds back.

James
: Sounds good. What color is your luggage? I’ll keep an eye out for it.

Me:
Pink suitcase with a white ribbon tied around the handle.

James:
Figures.

I laugh a little at his response.

Me:
Shut up, dickhead.

James
: Just get your ass to baggage claim so I don’t have to look like a fucking tool.

Me:
For that response, I’m stopping at Starbucks and getting a coffee. Want anything?

James:
Medium black coffee. Thanks, sweetheart.

I can guarantee there’s a whole lot of sarcasm in that last message.

I get our coffees from Starbucks and progress towards baggage claim with a pace that most would call
extremely slow
. I find James standing near one of the luggage carousels with my neon pink suitcase in hand. He’s got an odd expression on his face as he continues to watch something move around the carousel track. I stand beside him and follow his eyes to see what in the hell has him so riveted.

“Uh, why are we standing here staring at luggage?”

He doesn’t even bother looking in my direction, his eyes still fixated on the moving track. “Just keep watching. You’ll see it in about ten seconds.”

I glance at the crowd huddled around this particular baggage claim and notice everyone is just standing, gawking in amusement. What in the hell is going on? I feel like I just entered the Twilight Zone.

And then
I see it.

A giant purple dildo moving along the track all by its lonesome.

I should probably go ahead and explain that it’s actually my dildo, the generous parting gift I was given at Susan’s bachelorette party. I’m not really a dildo kind of girl, but I feel sad seeing my lonely purple cock sliding along the track while everyone continues to stare at him. My eyes scan the crowd again. A few women openly gawk with disgusted, judgmental looks while whispering back and forth to each other. Their reactions piss me off.

“Here. Take these.” I shove the cups of coffee into James’s chest, triggering a perplexed look from him.

I stride straight up to the luggage carousel and grab my dildo friend off of the track. The shocked gasps and whispers that begin to occur behind me spur
my official undoing
. My back goes ramrod straight, and it’s safe to say I’ve reached a point of no return. These assholes have no idea what is about to occur. I hop onto the metal barrier surrounding the baggage claim and start to go on a rampage.

“All right! Who took it? I had a giant bottle of lube tied to this cock and now it’s missing!” I look at a few of the women I saw judging my purple dick and proceed to point my dildo at them. “Was it you? What about you? Which one of you has a cunt that is so dry that you need to steal other people’s lube! Where are you, you slippery juice bandit! Once I find you, I will perform forcible butt play on your love-oil-heisting ass until your dead grandmother feels it!” I’m now shouting so loud that people from other baggage claims are beginning to look our way.

My fury has taken over my brain. I wave my purple pleasure sword in the air like a god damn light saber as I continue to threaten everyone in the airport. A light bulb goes off in my head and I remember one of my favorite movie quotes of all time…

“I don't know who you are. I don't know what you want. If you are looking for ransom, I can tell you I don't have money. But what I do have are a very particular set of skills. Skills I have acquired over a very long career. Skills that make me a nightmare for people like you. If you let my lube go now, that'll be the end of it. I will not look for you, I will not pursue you. But if you don't, I will look for you, I will find you, and I will kill you.”

I hear a woman in the crowd gasp in horror as she clutches her toddler to her chest. She shoots me with the nastiest look possible. By her facial expression alone, you would think I was up here clubbing baby seals while singing Louis Armstrong’s
It’s a Wonderful Life
. Yeah, the “I will kill you” comment might have been a little hasty, but I tend to get worked up in the heat of the moment.

“You! Take your judgmental attitude and your little fuck trophy”— I gesture to the child she has in her arms with the purple dick—“and move along! Nothing to see here, folks! Nothing but a woman with her dildo who’s looking for her missing bottle of lube!” I holler and then decide it’s in my best interest to jump down and walk towards James.

His facial expression is a combination of shock and hilarity. Bystanders watch us with various emotions. Loathing. Disgust. Entertainment. And my personal favorite—
hatred
. The women I pointed my rubber cock at are seriously hating on me right now, whispering back and forth to each other, and pointing their judgy fingers in my direction. The fuck trophy comment obviously went over like a lead balloon with this uptight crowd.

James hands me both cups of coffee and grabs my suitcase. “You can bet your conservative assess we will find out who took her lube. And when we do, there will be hell to pay!” he shouts towards the crowd I just drew with my dildo-pointing rant

My mouth is agape. James just managed to surprise the shit out of me. I stare at him in astonishment.

“Come on, sweetheart. Let’s get out of here,” he instructs as he drags my neon pink suitcase behind him. He’s a smart man and is most likely getting us the hell out of the airport before someone has security grab us for questioning. I pick my jaw up off of the floor and follow his lead, clutching my purple cock to my chest and hurrying my steps to catch up with him.

“So is that even your dildo?” he asks as he peers out of the corner of his eyes. His muscular legs continue their long strides towards the parking garage.

“Yep.”

“Did it really have a giant bottle of lube attached to it?”

“Nope.”

I glance up to see him smiling and shaking his head. “So did you really just quote Liam Neeson from the movie Taken back there? And not only did you quote it to perfection, you managed to weave your own personal touch with the addition of the lube.”

“Taken is one of the best movies of all fucking time. I couldn’t have been more proud of myself as I was in that moment, waving my purple cock around, threatening to sodomize those snooty snootches,” I declare as James puts my luggage in the trunk of his SUV.

He lets out a barking cough as he opens the passenger’s side door, urging me to get inside. “God, you’re ridiculous. Please get your ass in the car before airport security takes you back inside for questioning. I’m sure you threatening to kill and dildo-rape women and children over a fictional bottle of lube didn’t go over to well with TSA. And seriously, I think that the ‘until your dead grandmother feels it’ statement might have been taking it a little too far.” James cocks an eyebrow at me as I slide into the passenger’s seat.

“I really wish you could have gotten that precious moment on video.”

“Why doesn’t this surprise me?” he asks as he closes the passenger’s side door and walks around the front of his SUV.

Honestly, I’m not sure how I can still manage to amaze James with my continual ability to word-vomit everywhere I go. One thing I do know is that James just pushed himself up a notch on my friend’s list. I really don’t know many people who would have defended me and my purple dildo’s honor like that in front of a crowd of strangers.

Ellen would have.

Lizzy would have been too embarrassed.

And now James, well… He just proved himself to be best-friend material.

Any time you’re finding yourself questioning your friendship with someone, all you have to do is ask yourself this one question…

Would they stand up for you and your rubber cock while simultaneously threatening to raise hell if someone didn’t own up to stealing your giant bottle of lube?

If you can answer yes to this question, then that person is fucking best-friend material.

Chapter Thirteen

“Pants with an elastic waistband are a girl’s best friend.” - Amy

A new year means another attempt at getting my ass to the gym on a regular basis. Lizzy’s crush on her personal trainer—which she still refuses to admit—has done some serious wonders for her body. She’s toned in all the right places and her ass could convince even the straightest women to give muff diving a shot. Hell, even I’m attracted to her ass.

“Are you sure you want to go to the gym today? Weren’t you just there yesterday?” I put on my pink Nike cross trainers, tying the laces tightly.