Disclaimer: The following account is from times much different from the present, when I was a kid with more pimples on my face than facial hair. Chicks didn’t surround me like I was the only source of heat in a henhouse and thus, I went looking for the girl of my dreams in a coaching center. As you’ll see, I was also a sexist son of a bitch but I’m not sure if that has gone away with time.
Every cloud has a silver lining and the silver lining to me failing 7th grade mathematics was that I got to choose a new coaching center. Now, there are many things to consider when choosing a coaching center, but I focused on the most important factor. I chose the one that had lots of girls. I deleted my stash of porn the night before and pledged to never masturbate again, for I thought it would be wise to start saving myself for the soul-mate I was about to meet. The next morning, with testicles full of semen, head slick with hair gel and underarms sticky with sweat and Axe Chocolate, I started my journey towards love.
Catastrophe struck on the first day, when I entered the room to find that instead of fair skinned women, the room was filled with dark skinned kamlas. I noticed that many of them had their heads slick with hair gel and the room smelt like an oddly familiar mixture of sweat and Axe Chocolate.
That was when I started wondering if the other kamlas too had testicles full of semen. That was also when I realized that my sexually desperate body shouldn’t be in a room like this, so I ran out of the room and broke into fake tears. When they asked me what was wrong, I told them about my dead grandparents whom I supposedly saw every weekend but couldn’t because of the timing in this coaching center. This was followed by an awkward look and a suggestion of moving to another batch, but that was only for girls. With elation in my heart and terror on my face, I told them that would have to do.
With much difficulty, I managed to keep my hands off myself until Day 2. The plan was to walk into the room with tingling testicles, look at girls, instantly get a hard-on, impress girls with hard-on, and then they’d want to have sex with me. But it didn’t work out that way, because as I walked towards the door, I felt the judgmental gaze of dozens of aunties on the back of my head, and that got me all scared and nervous. Aunties are terrible creatures with the power to diminish one’s good spirits, among other things. My erection was a victim that day.
Anyhow, I walked into the room and tried to take a seat beside this girl who was kind of cute, but she gave me a look that made me wonder if I had called her fat and ugly on Facebook, because I often did that to girls who wouldn’t accept my friend requests. I was eventually made to sit in front of the class in a separate chair. All the girls that I wanted to stare at were behind me and then I started getting self conscious about my shirt climbing up my back to reveal my underwear. It was especially disconcerting because I wasn’t wearing any. Just another thing I did to look after the health of my testicles.
I walked into the room buzzing because just last night, a girl from this class had sent me a friend request on Facebook. I even sent her a message that said ‘hiiiiiiiiiiii’ and she replied with ‘hlw’. Everyone knows that if a girl greets you with more than two letters, she wants you. She was my soul-mate. I scanned the room before taking my seat in front of the class and putting my ass on display but I couldn’t find her. Was she not there? Was it just another guy on the internet? Did my previous exploits with the fake account ‘Angle Samiha’ come back to bite me in the ass?
I suddenly felt a literal bite on my ass. It was more of a tug on the sleeve, but the thing I had to see when I turned around made it feel that way. I realized it was the girl from last night and that’s when I learned a valuable lesson in life, to never fall in love with profile pictures.
Part 2 can be found here.