I Saw Jesus

I remember waking up nude, lying on a faux white bear skin rug. A light weight blanket draped over me. It was one of those mornings when it feels that your brain is screaming from in between your ears, a giant is stepping on your head - the pressure possibly causing it to implode, and light is like ice picks through your eyes. I looked around trying to figure out where I was, anticipating at any moment I would realize that I crashed at JP’s at the last minute… however nothing looked familiar through my squinted eyes.

I slowly rolled over and saw her. Her shoulder length brunette hair lying partially across her face, her milky white body lying naked beside me... This could not possibly be what it appeared to be.

I quietly reached for my little black dress on the ground near my feet, doing everything in my power not to wake her. I slipped into it and tried to find the bathroom. I was completely overwhelmed. I had no idea where I was, how I got there, why I was there (although I had a pretty good idea), and even worse… I had no idea who she was. Not at all.

I sat on the toilet, my head in my hands attempting to piece any of the previous evening back together. Fragments of memory flashed before me in a kaleidoscope of nonsense… stumbling into the apartment, coming out of the bathroom to a room lit with candles, her sitting on the couch next to me, slowly sliding my dress straps down my shoulders and kissing me, my nerves overwhelming me. She asked if I wanted the candles put out… I did. Seeing this… watching this unfold before me was too much. She blew them out and invited me to join her on the white fur…

And then the realization: I. Am. Going. To. Hell. Oh my god, premarital sex was one thing, but a lesbian encounter? This had to be far worse.

In sheer disbelief I raised by buried head from my hands and there He was. The Good Lord Jesus Christ Himself was looking down at me.

Who in the world has a 2’ x 3’ framed painting of Jesus Christ hung in their bathroom? She did. Oh Lord, I am going to hell.

I exited the bathroom as she stirred awake. She reminded me that we weren’t at her house. She had a gay friend that let us ‘crash’ there. He thought it was funny to decorate in a Christian motif. My eyes lingered around the walls, and Jesus and Mary were everywhere. Oh my Lord, He knew… and I was in so much trouble.

She wanted to take a shower and asked if I wanted to join her. (Oh my God just get me out of here!) I, as pleasantly as I could, declined as she went in.

Thoughts flooded my mind: Who is this girl? What is her name? Oh my God… I am such a guy. I’m going to hell.

JP had (as a joke) purchased for me the previous week “The Worst Case Scenario Handbook for Dating and Sex”. I remembered laughing at the section written for ‘if you can’t remember her name’, but suddenly was incredibly glad that I had. I needed to find a piece of mail, her purse to look for her ID… anything that might lead me to the discovery of her name.

I (as quietly and quickly as I could) began scouring the apartment for any of these needed pieces in the most unfair game of scavenger hunt ever played. I began looking through the mail while Mary holding baby Jesus looked at me. I discovered that (of course) the mail was in her friend’s name.

I looked all over for her hand bag, Jesus nailed to the cross tsked at me as I tried to find it tucked somewhere in the couch. He and his disciples’ eyes followed me around this front room while eating at His Last Supper. I couldn’t find any piece of anything that might even let me know an initial of who she was.

Deciding I needed more light on the subject, I drew the blinds open. You. Have. Got. To. Be. Fucking. Kidding. Me. Right there, as large as life, was an enormous cross adhered to the side of a building... her friend lived next to a church.

She finally came out of the bathroom, asking if I was ready to go. Yes, oh yes, I was. She grabbed her jacket, ensured that her ID was still in the breast pocket (Dammit! I never looked there) and we headed out the door. Exiting the den of sin, we took our first steps into this bright Sunday morning. The congregation was entering into God’s house next to us, and here I was… doing the walk of shame in a little black dress and black knee high boots.

Through some small talk in the car I found out a little about her, yet still no hint as to what her name was. She said she had never done anything like this before.

We had to stop for gas… of course anything to make this morning last that much longer. Our gas station attendant was about 45 years old, grey haired, and one of the biggest bull dyke lesbos ever. Dykey pumped our gas while she and I sat silently in the car. Pulling away she looked at me and asked, “Do you totally think that the lesbo knew?”

“Oh my God, I was completely thinking the same thing!” I was sure that I was now somehow emitting lesbo pheromones... a scent ready to be picked up by any she-man in a twenty mile radius.

We finally got to JP’s house (where my car was left the previous day) and she dropped me off. A simple hug was exchanged. She told me that she “had a really great time, OCG.” No numbers were given to one another. Just a simple good-bye and she drove away.

Later that evening my coworkers relived and retold (to anyone who would listen) the events that occurred leading up to my morning with Jesus… but those may be another story for another day…

I did learn her name though. I may now confess my sins and seek repentance for my first lesbian encounter with a hottie named Tatiana…

Post Script: I have several people emailing me if this actually happened. I've never lied on my blog before... and I shant now.
This OCG story is actually one of my friends fav (it happened a couple of years ago) and I have been made to retell it many times.
Whenever M&M does something (someone) he shouldn't have he'll call me and just say,
"Girl, I saw Jesus this morning"
I know exactly what he means.
I love it.