Bitchslap Yourself

“Everything happens for a reason. Sometimes the reason is you’re stupid and make bad decisions.” –Marion G. Harmon

I remember back when I was about five-years old. My mom looked at me with a disappointed expression on her face and said, “I shoulda swallowed your ass!”

It wasn’t until much later in life that I realized she was talking about the load of cum that I was miraculously apart of. She thinks I would have been less of a disappointment if I were shot down her throat rather than her pussy.

I was then grossed out because the last thing I wanted to picture in my mind was my mom swallowing a load of cum. Not because the thought of my mom swallowing a load of cum was something I could never imagine her doing, but because the thought of someone actually wanting to put their dick inside of her, disgusts me.

Not even really sure why she would say such a thing. All I was doing was choking the family cat cause I liked when it fell asleep. It looked cute and wouldn’t scratch me, and gave me five-minutes or so of playtime with it.

Before I get onto the subject of bitchslapping yourself, I want to talk about my experience in….

Losing My Virginity

I lost my virginity last year. I figured it was about time after I broke up with my girlfriend of fifteen-years. It was shocking when she broke up with me, as we just learnt that she was pregnant. The thought of being a dad excited me but she just called me an idiot and then dumped my ass.

We had a great sex life. Every night I would masturbate next to her on the couch while she watched Grey’s Anatomy. I would stare at her and cum in my own face. It was hot. And anytime I found her with one of her toys I would be all like, “fuck yeah! Bet I can cum before you,” and I would strip down and stand at the foot of the bed and start jerking it, and would always cum before her.

It was fun.

Actual intercourse is something that I always thought should be saved for marriage, after ten-years. We had been together for fifteen, but not married.

After she dumped me, I broke into Davidlee’s apartment and cried on his couch for three-weeks. I didn’t even get up to go to the bathroom and he made me put the couch out by the side of the road when I finally left. Which, I guess, was understandable as I did piss and shit all over it.

I was hanging out with my good friend, Henry Zebrowski, and I was lamenting about how I had been dumped. He looked at me and said, “Dude, who the fuck are you?” Always the jokester, that guy. After I bought him some liquor and forced him to drink it and then kidnapped him and tied to my kitchen chair, he listened to my problems. His solution was, “dude, just get out there and stick your penis in a vajeen!”

I had to Google that word.

I untied Henry a day later and he kicked me in the shin and scurried off like a red-headed, naked leprechaun. Looking back in my writing I forgot to mention that I also stripped him naked before tying him to the chair. He has a restraining order on me now, but I know it is just another one of his jokes. You should really catch him sometimes. He is great on that show “Power.”

Feeling down and out, I went over to Cody’s house to seek the guidance of Jamie. She is like a Shaman, that woman. Amazing woman. We sat at her table and she made herself a cup of coffee and I was sipping on a bottle of Jack, as I was still very depressed.

“Look,” I said to her, “I need your Godly Lady Wisdom. Can you get one of your female friends to let me put my penis in their vajeen?”

She stood up, pointed at the front door and said, “get the fuck out of my house!”

Alone, confused, sad, and drunk.

All I knew to do was wander the streets of Macon. A homeless man shanked me and took my Jack, which sucked. I stopped by a liquor store and bought another one and then that same, god damned homeless man shanked me again, and took that bottle of Jack.

Now I was alone, confused, sad, bleeding, and sobering up.

To a bar I walked. I sat down and ordered a drink and as I got the glass to my lips the fucking homeless dude came rushing up, fucking toothbrush with a screw taped to it at the ready, and I held my hand out in his face.

He came to a stop.

“Homie,” I said, tears in my eyes. “Stop taking my fucking alcohol, man. Fuck! I need this.”

He looked taken aback and I could tell that he was truly sorry for the previous encounters. He asked what was wrong and I told him.

After I told him my troubles it was like the gates of Heaven opened up and shined a light down onto me, because this homeless dude said, “if you buy me a drink, I can help you lose your virginity.”

“Aight, bet!”

That is what I said. I said, “aight, bet!”

Anyone who is Fucking Awesome says that, but we will get to that in deeper context later. I am thinking, like, chapter seven, or some shit like that. Fuck. How many chapters should I write? Why am I writing my thoughts down, that is weird? Maybe I should write my thoughts down and keep them in there that will make this more personal and shit and really hit home with people and let them know how real I am and not some fake motherfucker trying to make a quick buck by writing a truly dope self-help book and shit cause I don’t want people thinking that so yeah I will leave my random mental spillings in right here on this part so they know that I am the real fucking deal and shit and not some bullshit slinging motherfucker cause that is what the people need right now.

After ordering him a drink, I guzzled mine down and ordered myself two more, and him three more. It was something I had to do. I needed to ease my nerves cause I was about to do the naughty, and this dude deserved more drinks cause he was about to get me laid.

We finished our drinks, had one more round, and I looked at him and said, “okay, let’s do this.”

With his head he motioned towards the door and said, “this way.”

We walked about a mile down MLK and came to the interstate overpass and against a pillar he leaned and dropped his pants. I was confused.

“What are you doing,” I asked.

“Stick it in,” he said while spitting a wad of snot and spit on the ground. “A promise is a promise, now give me that V-Card.”

I had to Google what a V-Card was.

My palms got sweaty and the stank of his ass hit my nostrils and I threw up into my mouth a little bit. I knew that backing out now would just mean that I am a bitch, so I couldn’t do that. He was getting impatient.

“Come on,” he shouted. “I’m good and drunk and it’s sweaty, so it’ll slide in nice and easy. Get it over with before I need another drink!”

I inhaled deeply and closed my eyes and asked myself, “WWJDD: What Would Johnny Depp Do?”

I dropped my pants, got my dick hard, and I shoved it in that homeless man’s ass! Five thrusts later and my load was in him.

Now I am gonna be honest: It was not a good time.

After I got my pants back on I went running to the nearest gas station, crying and ashamed. I bought a bottle of rubbing alcohol, cursed myself for not using a condom, got a straw, ran back to the bar, downed three drinks and busted into the bathroom. A dude was in the stall doing cocaine off the toilet seat and I threw his ass out. Pants dropped. The dude kicked the door in and saw that I had then had a straw shoved into my peehole and was crying like crazy. He ran out of the bathroom.

Carefully, I poured the rubbing alcohol into the straw and it was the most painful thing I have ever felt, but I had to do it. That rubbing alcohol is probably the only reason I don’t have an STD.

Pants pulled up, another drink drank, and I walked down Cherry Street to Davidlee’s apartment.

He was there with his girlfriend at the time and she stayed in the bedroom while we sat on the couch. I told him, through all my crying, what had happened that night and for the first and only time ever, Davidlee stood up and kicked me out of his place.

He was the only person I have ever shared that story with until now. Well, not counting my last girlfriend, who dumped me after hearing it.

Not ready to go home to an empty house, I drunkenly stumbled to a nearby church. The door was unlocked, cause God works in mysterious ways. I sat in the confessional, and I shit you not, a priest was on the other side. Because I have watched movies, I knew how this works.

“Bless me Father,” I started, “for I have sinned. It has been never before since my last confession.”

He then went on with his spiel and told me some uplifting shit and then had me confess.

Once I had finished telling him of the events that night he stepped from his side, opened the door to mine, and beat me with his god damn shoe for, like twenty-god-damn-minutes. Even said how I just tainted the whole place and it was now unholy. Which I don’t get seeing how all I did was talk about fucking a homeless dude in there, but yet, not to be a shit talker, how many fucking priests you hear about fucking little boys? Oh you fucked a legal age homeless man? You’re a heathen, you’re going to Hell! But a dude with with a fucking weird looking collar thingy can fuck a little boy?

Hypocrite.

There was nothing else left for me to do but go home. So I made that long hike home. I cried the whole way there.

Once I got home I marched straight to the bathroom and stared at myself in the mirror and cried.

Moving On

What really upset me was how, after that magical moment we shared, that homeless dude never hit me backup.

Bitchslapping Yourself

Look, I am being real right now. I just spent this chapter opening up a lot about some fucked up shit in my life. That is step one of readying yourself to bitchslap yourself. Go into the bathroom. Look in the mirror. Think about all the stupid shit you have done in your life. Don’t stop there. Think about all the negative effects it has had on you, those around you, and everything in general.

Are you doing it? I don’t think you are doing it! Go! Go to your bathroom and stare at yourself in the mirror!

Doing it?

Good.

Now, look yourself in the eyes. Let all the hatred for yourself flow. Say to yourself, out loud, “you are worthless and you need to get yourself in check!”

Raise your dominant hand. Fingers upwards and slightly arched back. Now swing that arm back and then right into the side of your face with all the god damn force you can muster up and slap the shit out yoself!

Hurt, didn’t it? Good. It is supposed to hurt. If you ain’t crying you did it wrong and need to do it again. And again. And again. Until you can’t stand it anymore. Make yourself know how worthless you are. If you have to, shit in your hand and rub it in your face! Tell yourself how worthless you are! Tell yourself how nobody loves you! Do it until you are completely dead inside!

Are you dead inside?

Good.

Now you are free. Your slate has been wiped clean.

Born Again

Bitchingslapping yourself and making yourself realize how worthless you are, now means that you are truly free from all of your past mistakes. You can’t have that shit weighing you down. It happened. You atoned for it by making yourself cry and slapping the shit out yoself. All is forgiven.

Now go to sleep, and don’t wake until the rising of the sun on the morrow. I don’t care if it is nine in the morning and you just woke up, getting to this point while still drinking your morning coffee and having a good read while you do so. Go to bed. Sleep. While you sleep, magic will happen. You will feel it as soon as you wake up.

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