My Ass Is Online

Later in the evening I walk by him and I turn slightly, ostensibly to look at a sculpture of children with anuses for noses, and he's looking at my ass. Hugh Grant is looking appreciatively at my ass. Like I got a gold star in "ass" at school or something. He's a movie star and he's checking out my ass! I'm in love with him! I want to do something to make this moment last, get to know him better, go out to dinner, chat, have his children, make movies with him, write screenplays together, go for walks in the heather, I'll learn to speak in an English accent. And I'll wake up every morning next to that winsome grin that everyone loves. I'll be the envy of all my friends... But I keep on walking. What am I supposed to do? Say "I like your work"? I was terrified. I froze. And he turned away. It's not like he was staring at my ass for five minutes, he just looked. And then looked away. He wasn't having fantasies about having my children, I could tell.

Still, the next day I e-mailed all my friends, "Hugh Grant was checking out MY ASS!" I then remembered how Hugh Grant had been caught with that fairly unattractive prostitute named "Divine" in his car. It occurred to me he doesn't really have discriminating taste. He'd probably look at anybody's ass in a tight dress. He was probably in heaven that night at "Sensation." Stephanie Seymour, the Victoria's Secret model, was wearing a crochet dress. I was having a ball checking her out. There were at least two other women in full see-through dresses. And everyone talked about Giuliani and the bad art. Who gave a shit about the art, I was interested in the dresses.

My ass can get me into a jam sometimes. Later, I called one of my best friends, Elizabeth, and she was on the phone with this guy she's dating and says she'll call me back. Which she does, almost right away. Says she wants to bring her boy on for a three-way...call. I feel strangely behind the times, having had threesomes, but never a three-way call.

He's older than we are, a Web designer in his mid-30s; I met him at her Christmas party. So there's a bit of chat and then he says, "It's great we get to talk to you, because Elizabeth wants to know about your lesbian experiences. She says she doesn't understand how they have sex." They? Now, this is something Elizabeth and I have never discussed in great detail; she knows I have sex with women, but she's a little uptight sometimes and I never talked about it much with her. I am vaguely insulted. They can't deal with the scary depths of lesbianism by themselves?

"Well, you know all those great things you do with a guy? It's kind of the same thing, except with a girl. Generally it's slower than with a guy."

He starts to badger me. "C'mon Christen, I know you're not shy. You were talking up a storm about sex at that Christmas party."

I'd actually liked him at that party. "C'mon, tell us the details, Elizabeth really wants to know."

"I don't, Christen," she sputters. "It's no big deal, we just thought it would be fun to call you."

Great. I'm their entertainment for the evening. Will they fucking pay me? Get together and rent a video, for fuck's sake!

"C'mon Christen, just give us a little dirty detail," he pleads.

This is getting weird. Right now, I am trying to wash my kitchen floor because my roommate's mother is coming to visit tomorrow from Kansas, and I want her to see that we keep house well in New York. I'm wearing green sweatpants and a turquoise sweater and I haven't showered and my hair is greasy and I'm wearing my glasses and I can't even think about sex in the outfit I'm wearing. And I barely know him and he wants me to tell him the details of my sex life.

"Gee Dave," I say sweetly, "I don't see why I should tell you anything about my intimate life. I barely know you. It's not like you're Elizabeth's boyfriend or anything. So she fucked you a couple of times. That means I'm supposed to talk to you about stuff that she supposedly wants to know?"

I do believe Elizabeth wants to know and may even be titillated by the idea of it. And I want her to know. But she'll just have to ask me herself.

I decide the guy's an asshole, trying to take advantage of me in some psycho way. Is he trying to get us all in bed together? He's treating me like the slutty girl in his high school homeroom. I can just imagine him sidling up to some poor girl: "C'mon Roxy, you're not shy. I heard you did it with John last week. C'mon, I heard you loved it and I like you, let's get it on."

I give him a few websites to investigate for his education. Good Vibrations and Toys in Babeland have sex education stuff on their sites. Then Elizabeth chimes in and tells him about this certain website that happens to have a picture of...my ass.

Yes, my ass is online. And now I'm regretting it. He's got DSL, and before I know it, my ass is on his desktop. "It's...cute," he says hesitantly. What, I think the guy's gonna say, "Wow, it's great"? He's fucking my friend! But still, I want him to like it. Even though I don't like him, I want him to admire my body. I say, "Yeah, I know, my ass isn't the greatest. It's a little fat and flabby."

But then I think of how much my Long Distance Lover in Australia loves it, and how he'll be here in a week, and I don't care what anybody else thinks.

And I decide this guy's a total dickwad. I was dreaming of a threesome with Liz and Hugh, not these two.