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It's genetic (part 5)

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How far can *you* open your legs?

October 7, 2000

 

This girl Ashley knew in England was a gymnast. He and his friends call her "Bendy Wendy". Very cute. I can only imagine the sexual implications of a gymnast's flexibility. Does any of that stuff come in handy during sex, or is it all a myth? I've been able to do the splits since I was 7 or 8, and I excel at cartwheels; I can still do a pretty good backbend. But I can't put my feet behind my head or anything. I wouldn't call myself "bendy". Guys like that sort of thing, don't they? The whole 12-year-old Chinese acrobat girl-standing-on-her-hands-kissing-her-own-butt thing.

 

One time, Ashley and my brother David and I were out at a local bar, Noc Noc. As we chatted and laughed and drank, I noticed a dark-haired girl sitting alone at a small booth on the wall across from us. Somehow or other, she ended up asking if she could join us. What a trio we must have seemed! Ashley, the boisterous and witty Englishman keeping us in stitches; gorgeous, muscular, David with his beautiful smile; and me with my, whatever... just taking them both in: the two most wonderful boys in the world.

 

So she comes over with her glass of red wine, and sits down between David and myself. Now, David will talk to anyone. He is interested in absolutely everything! I'm willing to see what any person has to offer, especially if they have the gall to set themselves down in a group like ours, so obviously closely-knit. Ashley is simultaneously amused and annoyed; every stranger is suspect. Especially Americans.

 

I don't remember much of the conversation except that her parents are divorced and she travels all over Europe with her boy-toy Mom, who sounds like a very poor parent. She's well-educated but waaay too revealing of personal info, so she just seems crazy. You know, in a not-dangerous, clingy kind of way. The wish that Ash and I silently share - "please, god, piss off" - eludes her observation because David is being so accommodating and friendly. As we start feeling ready to head home, I feel a complicated social tension rise. I make a fatal, stupid mistake. Oh god.

 

"Well, I guess we're going to take off," I say. "Oh! Where are you going now?", she asks. She's really rather attached to us, I think. Probably to David. "Oh, just home I guess", I say, trying not to make it sound too appealing. But then I see this look in her eyes of hurt. It just falls out of my mouth, and I don't believe I say it: "Well, I guess you could join us if you want." See, now, she'd be fuckin' crazy to go home with three strangers, two of whom are men. Oh, but I forgot! She IS fuckin' crazy! So what do you think she says?

 

Ashley is beside himself with horror. He can't *believe* I invited The Crazy Girl home with us. "I thought she'd say 'no'!", I whine apologetically. We walk the two blocks to our house, trying to figure out ways to ditch her, but it's not gonna happen. We go in and immediately start making like the night is over, David's probably going to be leaving now, *yawn*, etc. I suppose then she got the idea that if she was going to be able to stay, she'd have to entertain us.

 

Ladies and gentlemen, the girl was a gymnast!

 

"Want to see a back handspring?", she asks. Hell yes, we want to see a back handspring, in my living room, in that short skirt, missy! She does several; fronwards, backwards, splits, *everything.* After a while of this, David announces it's time to go home, and now she asks if she might spend the night! There is no friggin' way she's staying here. She might steal something or rape us or whatever. Ash and I adjourn to the kitchen as she and David, who has kindly offered to drive her home, prepare to leave. "We could make her our Gimp and keep her in the trunk at the foot of the bed!", Ashley giggles, alluding to a memorable scene in Pulp Fiction. Only because she's a gymnast, of course; no regular girl could qualify to be our Gimp.

 

In the end, David managed to make her leave with him. He told us later that not only did she beg him to take her home with him, but when he finally got her to her own home and said goodbye, she asked him, "aren't you going to kiss me?" Poor girl! David's *boyfriend* probably wouldn't approve. No kiss, and that's the last any of us see of her.

 

Yup, take an absolutely foaming-at-the-mouth crazy girl, give her a little flexibility... and she'll get a lot farther than a regular girl. I'll bet there are *plenty* of folks who went ahead and locked her in the trunk at the foot of their bed.

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