"I'm Not Going To Fuck You"

guest post: L. Stone brooks


The first thing about NYC is this new word I’ve been learning called “boundaries”. As far as I can tell it means “no”. Everybody is big on fucking boundaries here. I’ll literally say hi to a girl and it’s not uncommon for her to say “I’m not interested in you please don’t talk to me” when all I’m trying to tell her is she’s got a boob hanging out. Such is life in the city.

It gets more complicated, this new phrase I’ve been hearing from women when I’m like sitting there having a cup of coffee minding my own business thinking of the Seattle Seahawk's wide receivers for the upcoming year or my laundry or something and she urgently looks at me and almost screams, “I’m not going to fuck you Stone... ever. I just want you to know that”. Now where I come from out in Alaska we don’t normally talk about not fucking when we first start hanging out. We talk about life, the universe and everything... maybe talk about the wide receivers for the Seattle Seahawks but I don’t ever recall talking about not fucking. Same goes for my dude friends.

Take my best friend Steve for example. I’m pretty sure he’s never leaned over to me and said, “I’m not going to fuck you, Stone... ever. I just want you to know that”. I mean maybe he did early in our friendship back at Valley Park Elementary in Ketchikan, Alaska as a child and I forgot but I like to think I’m pretty good about remembering my “not fucking you conversations”. As an Alaskan man I’m pretty sure Steve and I would have fought each other to the death over something like that. We once battled against each other with my Adirondack Big Stick baseball bat and my dad’s splitting axe simply because he was upset at my choice of strippers for his bachelor party. To be fair that is something worth fighting for.

I tried to do a preemptive “not going to fuck you... ever” to a woman a couple of weeks ago when I could feel it coming but she just told me I’m full of it and to get over myself.

Now I can almost understand a woman telling me she’s not going to fuck me. I mean maybe it makes sense in an evolutionary sense where she’s worried about my big brawny shoulders, sees my woolly Alaskan beard, hears my deep Barry White voice and thinks damn this guy looks like a real fucker... I better make him think about not fucking me.

This whole not fucking me thing has been going on for a year now. What makes it stranger is each and every time it’s been said it’s followed almost immediately by the girl stating how horny she is. For example:

Stone: You gonna eat that?

Girl: No, you can have the rest of my fries.

Stone: Cool.

Girl: I’m not going to fuck you, Stone... ever.

Stone: If you say so.

Girl: I just don’t want you think you have a chance of having sex with me. That way we can just enjoy being friends.

Stone: Ok.

Girl: God I don’t think I can wait much longer to have the shit fucked out of me. You want ketchup?

That’s almost word for word the conversation I had the other night except I had gravy.