The Weirdest Hookup Ever
WARNING: This is a true even that happened to me tonight (18th of March 2015 between 12am and 3am) However I am under the influence of Goddess Hannah as I write this.
So tonight through the gay hookup-and-have-sex dating app Grindr I met a man who claimed to be named Eli (aged 24, 190cm tall, 75kg, Single and Toned) who had his profile description as:
 ââŠThe stranger, the better. I like travellers, animated movies, tattoos, good coffee, and cheap wine. Sex is fun, but conversation is a better place to start. I should probably be doing something more productive right nowâŠâ
He enquired through the app as to whether I was on the search for Goddess Hannah as my screen name âNeed420!!!âł clearly indicated possibly implied. I confirmed that this was indeed my quest and the entire reason for my posession of Grindr (because I donât use it for sex⊠yeah⊠never⊠nope).Â
âEliâ could not sell me the little of Goddess Hannah he posessed so instead he offered to come over and share it with me free of charge (wow⊠I was far too excited for the worship of Goddess Hannah that I didnât even notice this was how he initiated the âgetting-intoâ of my pants). So âEliâ came to Fish Palace through the back entrance (because the front one had a leaking pipe flowing onto it, what, did you expect a sex joke? Typical⊠But so did Eli, he too was surprised when I didnât provide him with one) and came into my bedroom.
Immediately he looked around the walls and began to inspect them. I followed his gaze and took in what he saw; a canvas of Hannah Montana, an extremely toned mannequin bust, a bus stop poster featuring a cat and a dog the size of a double-bed, a plastic skull, a poster for Burger King, a mannequin leg and a massive wine glass. I was horrified at the collection of messed up things I had in my room. I explained to him that I was a theatre student, he responded thus:
âOh but on Grindr you mentioned youâre taking this trimester off⊠But youâll continue with your BA in English Literature? Actually I do think youâre going to do a Masters in Theatreâ
He explained that he had taken a year off to focus on a stage show and acting, which coincidentally are the two things I am doing this trimester (as well as working a metric-wankload)  instead of university. He told me how he used to be a waiter and a barista (my previous and current occupations) and then called me âa very complex characterâ (AKA a sociopath⊠right?).
He asked how the assorted items could possibly correlate (yes, he actually used the term âcorrelateâ so you can see he speaks just as douchily as I am) as âthey appear so cromulantâ which he then defined for me:
âCromulant: Something, usually a word, that is nonsensical in any context other than the one shared by a few who understand the context in which the thing or word can be understood.â
I mean, how pretentious is that, right? Actually every weird item in my room told a story, and I had them because they were mostly props or trophies. I pointed out that as a theatre masters student he was obviously skilled in pulling words from his asshole and delicately arranging them into a bouquet-like sentence so sweet it could charm and confuse even the most nasally-inept creating stories clever enough to be almost believable. By this point we had both engaged in the worship of Goddess Hannah and were acting casual with me not realising this was anything more than two stoners hanging out, which is weirdly the opposite if my usual behaviour because Iâm too used to reading to far into a situation and making it sensual and sexual.
Iâm not going to go into detail about how the next part went down but I will say that we engaged in sexual activity that had both of gasping both for air and in surprise, moaning with pleasure, and finishing in a most satisfactory manner. Both he and I said it was the best orgasm of our life. This is all good and well. But it wasnât. It was wrong. So wrong. (High-Troy has taken over the fingers and is going to continue writing without slicing through his words, so I, Sober-Troy am now being told throught the struck out words such as these. Careful, High-Troy is a lot more descriptive and emotional⊠He uses a lot of emphasis). Simply becuase it was so good. He did me EXACTLY how I wanted, needed and liked to be done, and apparently I did the same to him⊠However, it was the exact same things we were doing.
âEliâ and I had mutual interests, abilities, pleasure spots and more. We were basically fucking ourselves⊠But it was incredible. Unfortunately post-coital was when High-Troy (who is being struck through again as of now) decided to begin speaking, anecdoting, explaining the backstories of everything in the room and let him re-christen the skull whose name had been âGregory Montgomery Elisabeth The Thirdâ to âSkwyldâ. This is when âEliâ reveals his name is actually âLukeâ and then as an added bonus he through in a false-truth that the reason everything we had discussed, laughed at, enjoyed emotionally, physically and sexually was because he was me having travelled back in time (⊠Yup).
Thatâs right⊠My hookup just claimed to be⊠me. I joked saying âSo the time machine worked then?â but he shook his head and said he was trapped here and had no way of getting back, he said he was here to tell me to finish the stage show I was writing, to act it, to film it and then put it online.
I have a fear of success (itâs my sixth biggest fear/phobia*) so naturally this made sense to High-Troy and Sober-Troy was okay enough to go along with it. We both dressed ourselves while discussing how âEliâ and âLukeâ were the two names I use when I am roleplaying online, so probably would have chosen them had I gone back in time and needed a fake identity (Luke was the very first best friend I had as a kid and Eli was the first guy who I had sexual relations with where I had given consent).Â
(*The other five are: water, chickens, street-sweepers, falling out car doors and breaking teeth/scratching fingernails). As I was dressing I noticed the broken button on my fly and had to explain I had broken it while slut-dropping at work (I work at Starbucks, not a strip club). This reminded me that âChefâ the âChefâ of China Chow gave me a bunch of free food and it was in my fridge. This story became alliteration thanks to the combined efforts of my hookup (formerly known as âEliâ and futurely referred to as âLukeâ) and I:
Shif Shang was the Chef until he shied away from sharing the shampoo and stopped shaking his shimmering and shiny kitchen in a ship-shape shituation.
I led âLukeâ to the bathroom and gave him a tour of the house (two toilets, two showers, a laundry, eight bedrooms, two lounges and a massive kitchen) which I probably should have done before we had one another in our mouths. The next stop was the door and he explained to me that:
âAlthough I am your evil twin brother from the future, having come back as your good twin brother from the past. No wait⊠Make that your evil twin brother from the future, having come back as your fairly-good brother from the past. Anyway, although this is a total parodox and probably shouldnât have happened Iâm really glad it did. Canât wait for the season seven finale.â
I mean seriously⊠I know my life is fucked up but WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK? Also, I never told him that I write about my life as if it were a television series and that I was currently living season seven. So⊠Also he looked a lot like I would do in a few years⊠I know itâs not real but it made me incredibly uneasy. So yeah⊠thatâs the weirdest hookup Iâve ever had, and Iâm so happy I have shared it with Tumblr.
So here is an excerpt from season seven... Yeah... Wow... This should be fun to incorporate into the show.
