The Temporary Virginity of the American Player

4. We Could Be Friends.

*Hi, everyone! I hope you're enjoying the story so far because I'm having way too much fun writing it. If you like it so far, vote on it and drop me a comment telling me what you think! Read on and behave yourselves!

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"I'm dying and I hate my life," I wailed from the sofa. The paddle-fan spun the sound of my misery through the apartment. An MMA match lit up the television screen, shaking the room with surround sounds of a yelling crowd and crying muscular men. This was my Friday night. This was never my Friday night but I had decided to play it safe. Instead of exposing myself to an abundance of fine specimens of the opposite sex, I would spend time as far away from them as possible in my man-cave with my fellow men. Little did I know, it would be the most agonizing thing I'd ever do. "God, this is the worst. How can people stand this?"

"You've lasted longer than I thought," Joe commented from his chair, looking at his watch. "Johnny, he's already lasted six days. Twenty-five more to go."

Yeah. Twenty-five more days. Twenty-five more days of torture. Twenty-five more days of emptiness and boredom, both of which I wouldn't be able to quench without the temptation of breaking the bet. Twenty-five days of complete failure in my own eyes. How the hell was I going to last twenty-five more days?

"I am going to internally combust," I told my friends, my voice never having sounded so serious.

"I think you might just be dramatic," Joe said flatly, turning the match on television up. "This is doing you some good! It's protecting you from STDs and pregnancy. Technically, it's strengthening your chances of living past the age of twenty-five."

"Dying young doesn't sound that bad right now."

"Hey, Johnny," Joe asked, looking past me to the hippie lawyer sitting at the dining table. Johnny had been hunched over a law textbook for the past three hours, scribbling indecipherable notes in a journal and downing coffee after coffee. Even at the sound of his name, he just grunted and didn't look up. "Maybe we should invite the girls next door over for a movie."

"No," I cried loudly, burying my face in a pillow. "I don't wanna live on this planet anymore."

"From the looks of it, you're already dead," Joe mused. "But don't worry, buddy, you have our full support."

"We'll come to your funeral," Johnny said, leaning back in his dining chair. He took a sip of coffee and glanced our way. "Bring flowers and pour our hearts out in a eulogy and go on about what a great guy you were and all that jazz."

"Really?"

"No," they said at the same time, and laughed together. I didn't catch the joke. Or maybe I did and I was just unimpressed. Joe took a cigar from his fancy Cuban box and handed one to me. "Don't worry, Nick, we love you. We can go out for a drink if you want. We didn't bet on you avoiding alcohol. Maybe getting wasted will distract you from the bet."

"It won't be the same," I sniffled, sitting up on the sofa. I took the cigar and said, "Can't I cheat just once? Just once? I can settle for a half a time."

"No," Johnny and Joe said at the same time, and Johnny stood up from the dining table. He stretched his arms over his head, a smile plastered on his face. "That wasn't the deal, man. You know that; don't try to cheat."

"Told you he wouldn't be able to last," Joe replied, giving me a glance as he muted the MMA fight. "Then again, he's only doing this for your sake, Johnster. The kid's heart is in the right place...it's just his head that isn't."

"Are you referring to the upstairs or downstairs one?"

"Okay," I said loudly, jumping to my feet. "Sure, just go ahead and joke around about how poor Nick can't have any sex and it's all your fault! I hate you all! I hate you!"