Karen, the Penis Slayer

[Karen's an old friend of mine. We dated a couple of times, but we're now good friends. She's half-Filipina, has a nice rack, and looks like someone who fell into the jungles of Darien from the sky.

She has told me a number of stories about her dating life, some funny, some disappointing. But here's a hilarious one that one could not make up. Presented here with her permission...]

A few years ago Karen met this white guy called Russ on POF (Plenty of Fish). She's usually not attracted to white men (don't ask me why), but was bored enough the day he contacted her, so she responded to him. He was brawny, tattooed, wore an ear-ring, had a perpetually mocking smile. The kind who looked in control and controlling.

So they chatted back and forth, flirted and exchanged innuendos. He wasn't particularly smart despite his big head, and she imagined his voice was gruff, growly like a surly grizzly bear's. After a couple of weeks of chatting and flirting they decided to meet the following weekend for drinks not far from where she lived. But a day they were to meet, he sent a message saying he'll have to reschedule since he had a medical condition. Thinking it might have been an outbreak of herpes or something even more embarrassing, she asked gingerly if it was something serious. 'No,' he wrote back. 'Just an annoyance.'

'Not herpes, I hope,' she joked.

'LOL, no. I didn't want to tell you, but I guess I should. I get these uncontrollable nose twitches sometimes. Today is one of those times. It looks really weird, and I don't want you to run away.'

'Haha! Twitchy nose? Who gets those? Are you serious?'

'Yes, ma'am.'

'It can't be that bad.'

'Believe me, it is. Like a bird flapping its wings.'

'OMG, this is so funny. Sorry, I'm sure it's not funny to you.'

'That's ok. I'm used to that reaction.'

'So what do you do to make it go away?'

'Just let it run its course. I should be fine in a couple of days.'

If that was a lame excuse for canceling their date, at least it was a funny one. So she decided to give him another chance and they continued chatting online. Another week or two and decided they should try meeting again. Karen dressed up in a sexy-but-not-too-slutty dress and waited for him to come by and pick her up. But he didn't show up. With every passing minute she was sure that he'd stood her up. And this time he'd not even bothered to call her in advance and give her another excuse. She was fuming by the time she received a call from a man who said he was Russ' friend. He was calling to let her know that Russ was in a motorcycle accident on his way to pick her up. He was in the hospital, bandaged up. She wasn't sure if she could believe that story. But the friend sounded sincere.

'I'm so sorry,' she said. 'Can I swing by and see him in a couple of days?'

'I'm sure he'll like that,' the friend responded and gave her the name of the hospital and room number he was at.

A couple of days later she decided to go to the hospital and check him out. If he had indeed been in an accident then all was forgiven. When she entered the room she was taken aback by what she saw. The man had bandages everywhere as in a cartoon. He looked as big in person as he was in his pictures, but much less intimidating. And, incongruously, his voice was high-pitched, almost a squeak.

'I'm sorry this happened,' she said.

'It's life,' he said in his soprano voice.

'You're in a pretty bad shape.'

'I'm alive,' he said to the tune of Figaro, attempting a wry smile.

She sat and talked with him for a few minutes. 'You know what this means,' she said. 'Our date was just not meant to be. Maybe we're not meant to be.'

'No, no, no,' he said in alarm. 'I really want to go on a date with you. Look, as soon as I get out of here I want to see you on a proper date.'

'I don't know.'

'Is there something wrong with me?'

'No, it's not that. I just believe in omens.'

'There are no omens. A moron who should never have a driver's license rear-ended me. It was an accident. No, it was a clueless driver. You know how terrible Asian drivers are.' He stopped himself to consider Karen for a moment. But it was too late. 'Sorry, I didn't mean to say that.'

Karen laughed. 'Oh, I know what you mean. A lot of Asians are terrible drivers. But just so you know, I'm not one of them.'

He smiled at her. 'You're pretty.'

Uncharacteristically, Karen, a woman who's been around the block a lot, blushed. 'If I take out all your bandages I'm sure you're handsome too. Somewhere under there, if I can find you.'

They laughed. 'So we're on for another date?'

'Sure,' she replied and left.

A couple of weeks later he called her to say that he was better. And they decided they would meet the following day. The next day he did show up, still blue in the face and his arm in a sling, bent at the elbow at 90 degrees.

'Ready to go?' he asked.

'How did you get here with that arm?'

'Oh, I didn't drive. My friend did. He's there in the car.'

Indeed there was a man in the car parked on the street outside. He waved. She waved back. This was weird. The man had brought another friend on the date. Reading her mind he said, 'Pete is going to drop us at the bar and take off. He'll pick me up when we're done.'

'You know what? Let's not go to the bar. I don't want people to think I beat you up.' They laughed, he a bit nervously. 'You can come in. Let's stay in.'

He grinned. 'Sure.' He turned to his friend and yelled, 'Hey, Pete, I'm gonna stay here. I'll call ya when I'm done.' The friend grinned widely, gave him the thumbs up and drove off.

Karen shared a house with a couple of roommates. So she took him back to her room in the back. Her room was cozy, spare, with a bed and a desk. 'What are these?' he asked, pointing to some of her swords on the desk.

Yes, Karen owns swords, the way a normal human being would own utensils. She's a sword-collector. She has many of them: small, big, narrow, broad, some shining, others dull. On full-moon nights she pretends to be an ancient ninja and fights imaginary foes stark naked in the middle of the night. 'It is therapeutic,' she claims, although she has never explained what disease it cures her of.

'Swords,' she said.

'Seriously?'

'Yes, look!' She took a couple of them out of their sheaths.

'Cool!' he said, taking one from her and swinging it around with his one good arm.

'Hey, watch it! You can hurt someone.'

'Naww. I'm good at martial arts.'

'Really?'

'Yeah. I can handle all kinds of weapons. These are really cool.' He sat down on the bed and felt a few of the swords, running his fingers over the cold grey metal. 'You're cool,' he said, leaning towards her as she sat down beside him. 'And pretty.'

He put the swords down on the floor, pulled her toward him with his good arm and kissed her. He was a good kisser. Soon they were leaning against the wall, taking off each other's clothes and making out like a couple of horny teenagers. His couldn't turn too much towards her because of his arm. So she leaned towards him and as she started nibbling his lower lip he toppled over and fell on the ground, face down. The thud was immediately followed by his high-pitched shriek.

Panicked, she leaned over. 'What happened?'

But he only kept screaming.

'Shit, what happened? Did I hurt your arm?'

He wailed.

'Dammit, tell me what happened?'

He pointed towards his crotch, but kept yowling. She looked down and was horrified to see his penis soaked in blood.

'Oh my God, oh my God!' she screamed. She tried lifting him up, but he was too heavy. 'You need to go to the bathroom to wash the wound.'

But he lay there writhing in pain. 'Goddamit!' he yelled finally. 'These stupid, fucking swords!'

He'd fallen right on one of the swords on the floor. She tried to turn his penis to get a better look at the damage. There was a deep gash. It was still bleeding. She helped him to his feet and took him to the bathroom across the hallway. There she washed his penis and tried to staunch the flow of blood. One of her roommates, hearing the noise, came over and helped. They bandaged up the penis and waited to see if it helped. When they were convinced it had stopped bleeding, Russ got up and dressed.

'Look, Russ,' she said. 'the entire universe is conspiring against us.'

'No,' he insisted. 'It's a coincidence.'

'Think about it: first your twitching nose. Next, you fell off your bike. Now this. You're a cute guy, but we are not meant to be.'

He was silent. He finished dressing up, wincing as she helped him zip up his pant. He called his buddy, asking him to come immediately to take him to the hospital. They waited for him at the curb. When the friend arrived, Russ turned toward her, gave her a quick hug and left without saying another word.

Needless it is to say, she never heard back from him.