Virgin Voyages: Losing It To A Sketch Comedy Superfan

Photo via Memegenerator

On Tuesday’s episode of “Guy Code,” the cast will talk about losing your virginity. Some of us here at Guy Code Blog are sharing our stories. #DontJudgeUs

While I consider myself a normal-looking dude these days, when I was in high school I was a simply bizarre-looking: Super tall, emaciated skinny, bad teeth… I was Screech.

Screech never got laid in high school, and neither did I.

I didn’t have looks, but I did have a sketch comedy series on Long Island public access TV (which I wrote, shot, edited, starred in and “directed”) for roughly two years. It was awful–pure, unadulterated crap. During one sketch, I went door-to-door selling douche bags… just me, walking around Long Island, selling feminine hygiene products. This went on for 14 minutes.

The show didn’t set the world on fire like I hoped it would, but I did have one fan. And she wasn’t just a fan–she was a superfan. And even more important, she was a she. Jackpot.

We began communicating via good ol’ AOL Instant Messenger–I gave my screen name out during each episode–and, despite me having the sex appeal of a dumpster fire, I somehow brokered a deal that would end in sex. It was on, son!

Unfortunately, a crazy blizzard slammed Long Island the night we scheduled things to go down. But I was determined to not let that stop me. It could’ve been raining hammers, for all I cared. Also, two of my friends caught wind of my cherry-popping plan and insisted on following me to her house to spy. (I understand ball-busting, but this was just weird.)

So I drove my mom’s Ford on an icy highway at 80 mph, weaving in and out of lanes, trying to lose my voyeuristic buddies’ car… which I did by shifting my shaggin’ wagon into reverse in the middle of the road and backing into an exit. It’s a miracle I didn’t get killed; whoever my guardian angel is, they loved me too much to let me die a virgin.

I soon arrived at the girl’s house, and gave her one minute and 35 seconds of pleasure, surely the least fulfilling sexual experience of her life. How do I know the exact time? Because during the act, my lurch legs hit my yellow Discman, “Eye of the Tiger” from the “Rocky III” soundtrack began playing, and I rocked that girl’s world until the display read 1:35.

I had bought the CD for one of my upcoming sketches.

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Peter Hoare (@PeterHoare) is a screenwriter and dashingly handsome humorist.