Searching for Swimmers–Chapter 3
Jason stumbled through his front door a little after two in the morning. Fortunately, his home was just blocks from the bar so he didn’t have to stumble far. His place was a small, comfortable, two-bedroom row house that provided ample space for a single inhabitant, despite its small size.
Since Jason was a single male with no interest in impressing women, his home lacked any discernible theme. In fact, it lacked style all together. He’d had most of his furniture as long as his siblings had had children, and nearly all of it was hand-me-downs, a fact Jason was proud of. He didn’t believe in spending a lot of money unnecessarily, a function over fashion sort of guy. And if his home furnishing had a theme, that was it. The one distinct exception to this philosophy was his home theater. Unlike most people, Jason did not rush out to replace his robust television for a slimmer, flatter model. He finally broke down when his television broke down. He decided if he was going to go big, why not go all the way? So he snubbed the flat screens, plasma and LCD alike, and settled for a high-powered HD projector that provided an image that covered a whole wall of his living room.
Within seconds, he’d turned on his projector and computer and flopped onto the couch with his wireless keyboard and mouse. Jason’s head slumped into the couch cushion in almost total darkness as he waited for the projector to pop on. He blinked his eyes and then recognized his desktop photo, Peter Blume’s “The Rock.”
Jason flipped through his bookmarks until he located his favorite pornography website. Despite Jason’s philosophy on sex, he was a realist and believed everyone needed sexual relief; and his need for relief was compounded by his intoxication. In his drunken state he began reconsidering his stance on casual sex.He had had a real shot at Robin but thoughts of Robin dwindled as he turned his focus on finding the perfect porn. Some days, any porn would do, just something for that initial pick me up from down below, and then his imagination could take hold afterward. But on nights when his personal philosophy came into question, Jason needed more than something to grease the wheels.
Perfect porn had several components, but the primary component was an earth shattering beautiful woman, one that tipped the scales of lust and dared him to love. Preferably this striking woman would have some very dirty things done to her, dirty in the traditional sense of pornography, not in the fetish sense. Jason had a strict no shit or piss policy. The few times he’d accidentally stumbled upon a defecation scene had resulted in a self-ban of porn. Of course the ban didn’t take.
Jason started video after video and quickly shut each of them down. He found plenty of beautiful women performing plenty of filthy acts to themselves, to men and to women, but none provided him with what he desired—to look upon the woman with astonishment, wonder and zeal, to make him think, how is it possible that I get to see her nude?
Eventually, the booze swayed his focus and Jason gave up. His libido had flared for a moment, flared so strongly that he ravenously clicked through hardcore porn to satiate the flame, but just as quickly the flame had been put out. Sure he could have settled for something sub par, but why should he? He could have just rubbed one out for old time’s sake. But why? The whole point of the exercise was to exorcise his own personal, burning demons. If the demons were gone, so was the action.
Still, Jason reflected on his conversation with Robin. Why didn’t I go for her? He knew why. Casual sex sucked and relationships sucked more, although, his reasons didn’t seem justified at 2:30 in the morning when he couldn’t find any suitable porn. His mind drifted back to Jessie and John. What if that all changed one day? What if one day I wake up and meet that perfect woman, decide I want a different life? What if that moment happens when I’m sixty? Of course Jason knew a man of sixty could still have enough life in his spunk that he could populate a small town. But what if everything in my universe aligned perfectly and then I found out my spunk couldn’t get it done?
Jason knew everyone had biological urges and that urges manifested themselves as lust and love. It was something coded into our DNA to ensure the survival of the species. But he also believed that love was just a chemical trick of the brain, lust a chemical trick of the body. Jason opted for a life where his body and mind didn’t trick him into awkward situations with the opposite sex, situations that eventually resulted in disappointment. Despite his philosophy, everyone has to pay the piper. Jason’s method was one of harm reduction. He realized the lust component of his DNA, and dealt with it himself. Simple, quick and clean—well, mostly clean.
Jason opened a folder on his computer desktop labeled, ‘Donations.’ In the folder he had completed paperwork for a mail-in sperm kit.
Fuck it!
He printed out the paperwork and signed it. There were two more lines below the line for his signature. Jason barely made out the word, ‘Witness.’ Shit, he needed a witness.
Fuck it!
He printed Ross’ full name the best he could manage and then forged his signature. Dealing with the scanner was a bit more problematic than forging Ross’ name, but eventually, Jason had an electronic copy of the signed and witnessed paperwork attached in an email. After three tries, he managed to type in the correct email address, but hesitated over the ‘send’ button.
Fuck it!
He hit ‘send.’
