Truth or Dare

In a continuing effort to not write anything new, here is yet another story I posted years ago on my old Myspace blog.  I just read it again for the first time in quite a while, and it made me reminiscent for the “old days” on the street I grew up on.  I hope you enjoy it.

When you’re sixteen and bored at night with your friends, you tend to come up with a lot of interesting ways to pass the time.  One of the things my friends and I used to do was play Truth or Dare.  I’m sure you’re familiar with the game.  You sit in a circle and each person takes their turn by either offering up a “truth” – answering a question about themselves and their deepest and darkest desires, or a “dare” – a challenge to do something outrageous.

I have always liked this game.  And, as far back as I can remember, I always liked doing the dares.  The truths were easy.  If you didn’t have much to hide, like me, it was a cakewalk.  So, when my turn came around, I definitely wanted the dare.  I wanted to prove to myself and everyone else just how crazy I would be willing to get.

So, that is what my friends and I did on several summer nights during my teenage years.  We’d grab a blanket out of someone’s house and sit outside in the front yard. It would typically be me, Jill, Adam and Michelle. And we would have an absolute blast.

I can’t remember all the dares I did.  But I can remember a few of my favorites.  Taking something off someone’s porch seemed to be a regular challenge.  A flowerpot, patio furniture, whatever; just take it and walk away.  That was easy enough.

Once, I peed on someone’s car door.  And as the owner was sitting on their front porch, no less.  I still don’t know how I didn’t get beat up for that one.  I just remember yelling to my friend who was nearby that I was, and I quote, “shooting yellow lasers” all over the car.  I wasn’t even drunk. We just thought it was really funny to be saying that while simultaneously urinating all over someone’s door handle.

Yet another time I knocked on a neighbor’s door at around 11pm and asked for a condom.  I can still recall the look on that old guy’s face.  Total bewilderment.  He couldn’t believe what I was asking.  So, I did what came naturally.  I pointed back to my friends, still sitting on the blanket across the street, and explained to him that we were going to be having an orgy later and I thought it best if I had protection.  Well, this about blew his mind.  To his credit, though, he didn’t completely flip his lid.  He just said he couldn’t help me and shut the door.  Still, my mission was accomplished.  I’d asked for the condom and completely flabbergasted an elderly man. Bonus points, baby!

But I bring all this up not only to illustrate the fact that I was a teenage miscreant.  Oh, no.  There is a much larger point to be made here.  And it is this: When you’re sixteen, girls think this kinda stuff is flat out sexy.  It’s true!  If you pee on someone’s car door or ask an old man for a condom on a dare…you’re the friggin man!  Not only do the girls dig you, but you’re the envy of all your peers.  It’s the strangest thing.

Now, I didn’t marry any of the girls who I used to play Truth or Dare with, but I wonder if the thousands of other guys who played this game with girls on lazy summer nights ever did?  It’d make a helluva story.

“Jennifer, you and Jason make such a cute couple. How did you two meet?”

“We met playing Truth or Dare, actually.  It’s the funniest thing.  Jason took a dump on this crazy lady’s lawn on a dare.  It was the sexiest thing I had ever seen.  I knew right away that this was the man I was going to spend the rest of my life with.”

I’d love for that to be my story. Screw this “we met online” or “a mutual friend set us up” bullshit.  I want to meet the love of my life in the process of committing a felony of some kind.  And the bigger the act of debauchery, the better!  That’s how you know your love is for real.

Nah, I’m kidding.  Sure, it’d make for a great tale to tell the grand kids and all, but I’d be more than happy meeting a nice girl in line at the supermarket.

Still, a fella can dream, can’t he?

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