You Really Wanna Know?

DEETS? DEETS? DEETS? DETAIIILSS PLEASE?

Fucking people wanna know everything, right? If you're not a nosy person, then you seriously must be doing an excellent job at supressing the urges to become one. Everyone is a junior detective and must GET TO THE BOTTOM of everything. Everytime you get back from a date, bang a girl, try a new restaurant, return from a trip: People need to know.

And you think its just girls that sit around and chit chat. "Ok Jill, so spill it. What was he like? Did he pick you up? What kinda car? Did he smell nice? Could you see his bulge through his slacks? Did it look like a handful of playground pebbles? Did you figure out if that roadkill on his dome is a rug, or his real hair that he coiffed to look like a flattened water possum?

But then you get alone with your buddies the morning after you've concealed your weapon in a random vagina you met at a bar and they NEED TO KNOW it all. But it's not simple nice questions like the girls ask. You're not getting "So Donna, was he a real gentleman like we all thought he would be?" No, No, No. What you're getting bombarded with is some of the dirtiest, filthiest, most outrageous questions known to man.

You return home, and walk into the room. SILENCE. You act as if. You sit down to a bowl of fruity pebbles, golden grahams, and cinnamon Life, and chew. Then outta nowhere.

"Alright dude! Enough is enough. Fucking out with it!"

"Did you bang her doggie? Did you wrap your tool? Did her floppy sweater kittens hit you in the eye while you were motor boating because your left peeper is definitely irritated. Did you guys use any toys? Weapons? Hats? Wiring? Natural Resources? Did you dial 911 and then shove the telephone in her cooch? (The most quiet place on earth, serene really. So much so that the operator would obviously assume something is definitely wrong due to the suspiciously quiet other line). Did you find anything useful in her ass? A pocket knife? Stamps? Spare keys? 3 Feet of rope? A soapdish filled with Public Storage passcodes? Did she treat your dick like a fighter pilot in flight simulation and pull up hard right as you were about to crash?

And what does every guy fucking do when these questions are being hucked at him left and right? HE CLAMS UP. Completely puts his shy boy face on and seals his lips with superglue. "Come on guys, gimme a break. We hooked up, what else do you need to know?"

This is the worst idea ever because you will take shit for eternity. "Well look who is all high and mighty now. Kid gets a small piece of pussy and suddenly he's in touch with his feelings. He can't tell his good buddies. Buddies he's been friends with for YEARS now, if he came in her ears, and then sang a Trisha Yearwood verse, hoping the jizz would block the sound".

The question I have is: Do people really always wanna know? Because, if you tell them something they really don't wanna know, then it's - "AWWW, come on man, I'm eating here. Did you really have to tell me that? Why would you tell me that."

From now on I'm only giving people bad details about everything I do. No more good details. No more details where my pals will say "Oh mannn that's awesome bro. That's so fucking awesome. That's like fucking insanely awesome. Tell us more, tell us more!"
Nope just the shitttttty ass deeeets that will bring the goddamn story to a screeching halt right then and there. And I suggest everyone follows suit.

"So Dude how was you're date. She give you a goodnight "present"?

"Yea she did give me a present actually. But it sure as shit wasn't a blowjob. She handed me a hand grenade coated in maximum strength epoxy. It gelled to my palm. She said she would only give me the liquid removal solution if I helped her behead and scalp her mother and fork over the the skull to an "important person" that she owed a skull to. So what happened, you ask? Well I still have my hand, don't I?

"Jesus dude, I wish I never asked".

Exactly.