Funky watermelon.

The other day I was translating Latin over breakfast, when I noticed that some pens and pencils I had out on the table were sitting in a pool of water. They were near the produce (apples, bananas, etc.) that I keep out on the table, so I looked to see if any had unexpectedly gone rotten and liquified, and none seemed to have, but when I turned over the perfectly good watermelon I had gotten 2 days earlier, there was this big pile of foam bubbles on its underside.

I didn't get that, so I wiped it off and set it down and started wiping down the table and looking for the source of water.

I couldn't find it at all, though, then I looked at the watermelon, and there was a small stream of bubbles escaping out of a very very small gash on the surface

-SO-

I took it to the sink and cut into it, and there was this big whoosh of gasses, and it smelled like a fermenting pumpkin.

I take it that that small gash was enough to let bacteria enter, and the whole watermelon went bad because of it.

I left it in a plastic bag by my door to take it out to the trash later, and the whole bag filled up with pink pumpkin-smelling liquid, too. Fortunately that didn't leak when I took it out to the dumpster in back of my apartment building.

The College Years.

He also said he was a little wild in college, though people who didn't know him wouldn't necessarily know it.

He said he had a lot of f-ck buddies among older grad students, including this one guy who he ran into in the gym's weightroom once, flicked him head back, and headed to the locker room. The guy ended up fucking him in the sauna, and the entire time he was worrying about someone walking in and finding them, which made everything hotter.

He also said that one summer he met this Puerto Rican young 20s thug who was closeted and had a 12-inch cock, and they'd go up and hang out at his house once a week... The guy would look both ways to make sure no other gang members were around, then invite him in the house, and hustle him out afterwards.

Another summer he met up with this really dominant b-school student, who a few times a week would pay for him to take a $30 cab ride up to his apartment on the other side of the city, where he'd beat him up and spit in his mouth while fucking him.

"I'm such a bitch," my friend was like, and said that once when he walked in to the b-school student's place, the guy strode up, shoved his hand in the back of his pants, and before he knew what was happening, shoved an ice cube up his ass. It hurt like a son of a bitch, and the guy let him sit there in pain for a few minutes before leading him to the bedroom so he could "fuck the warmth back into him".

...right now, he says he doesn't trust men, because "all they want is sex", so "I might as well get paid for it." He is like 23, and his older (gay) friends say he sounds way too jaded for how old he is...

How it all began.

In high school my one friend said he was obsessed with anal sex, and read up on it all he could on the net.

To lose his virginity, he met an older (white) guy with a 10-inch cock, but when they were hooking up in his jacuzzi, he couldn't take it and everything went down all wrong, so he swore never again, and ordered different size buttplugs off the internet.

Soon, he was meeting up with mostly married men in the city, when their wives were out of town. It was all for free, though one bought him a Playstation, and some would give him money anyways.

His parents didn't notice; they're immigrants, and he was a responsible kid, and he always did his homework and got good grades, so they let him have a car and gave him not that bad of a curfew.

Yet more confessions: A trip.

He also was out of town the other weekend, to Las Vegas "with friends", and when I texted him back, he said that yes, it was with a client, but more like a sugar daddy.

He said the guy is in his 40s and has too much money, and had bought him $1000 worth of clothes, and was buying him $2500 worth again, and was flying out to Vegas on a trip he was taking with friends.

He said he slept with him as a thank-you for the clothes, but the first time they met, the guy hired him just for dinner, and keep hiring him because he likes his personality.

More confessions: The mechanics of the profession.

He said he's tired of being poor, and he's done it in the past, so he set up his own website, and has 4-6 regular clients, who he usually sees like once every 2 weeks.

They're mostly businessmen who live around the city, and have a lot of money and not much time. He only responds to guys who are decently cute, and interviews them in person first.

Several have pictures of women and children in their apartments, but he doesn't ask questions.

Revelation of a gay friend: Summer doldrums.

So this one gay friend of mine I know from school, he's a quiet undergrad who graduated a few years ago and is still in the city since he got a good deal on a science masters at a different university here, and can live at home and not pay rent (his parents live just outside city limits).

Anyhow, I was texting him and asking him what he was up to anyhow this summer, since he's not in classes and just doing labwork, and when he texted back that he wasn't up to much, I texted back that this would be the perfect opportunity to start up work as a prostitute (referencing how some dude accosted him on the street and propositioned him, which made him wonder how much he was worth).

He texted back -

would you judge me?

- and when I texted back that I wouldn't, he confessed he was an escort.

I Fought the Man and Won.

I got a very quick response from my health insurance company in response to my letter:

I was right, and they're going to refile and take away the $50 fee.

30min. of work saved me $50 bucks, and cost them however much time and energy it's taken them to refile claims.