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“Hey I like your blog stuff” says the neighbor guy down the street who apparently has to dress like a golfer at work.
“Thanks buddy,” I say shocked that he in fact reads.
“You know what you should write about” he burps out after a swig of MGD. “Blow jobs.”
“Um, actually I do, a lot, probably too much.” I say, realizing he doesn’t really read my stuff that much.
“Write about the fact that I only get a blowie on my birthday, Father’s Day and every other anniversary.” He growls angrily gazing at his house.
I am hooked. I have to ask “Every other anniversary?”
“Yea, every other year is my anniversary, then I get one. The other year is hers and I don’t.” He says with an ever-growing vein on his forehead.
“She treats it like a friggin’ job! It’s not that hard of work and it doesn’t take that long! If there was something she really liked and she asked me to do it, I would do it! I work all day, I don’t do anything wrong and I have to beg for this!”
I wanted to laugh, but he looked like he was going to cry. I needed just the right thing to say to the neighbor guy down the street who apparently has to dress like a golfer at work.
“Maybe we should change the name?” I say with a confident tone.
“Huh?” He grunted under a swig.
Now it was my turn.
“Maybe we need to change the name from Blow Job, which has a “job” sort of connotation to something more new age, something that makes them feel like sexual shamans – no- sexual healers, as if they are using their feminine powers to soothe you, heal you, cure you!”
By now, in my mind, I was on a pulpit at a county fair wearing a robe, preaching to my flock with background singers “heeealll yooouuu!”
“Yes, my brother, it’s time to abolish the old fashioned Blow Job, that was your “mothers job” (insert gag here). Today is a new day! This is a new time! A time when women are opening their hearts, and their mouths to give you the thing you need most, the thing you crave at night, the thing that grabs your loins and shakes you down to your toes! My brother, what you want is Oral Therapy!”
Cue the singers “Theeerrraappppyyyy. Hmmmmmmm”
The neighbor guy down the street who apparently has to dress like a golfer at work, dropped his beer and yelled, “Yes!!!” Oral Therapy! It’s brilliant!”
“Oral Therapy my friend. We have taken the job out of Blow Job and given it a new, more enlightened purpose. Go to your woman, tell her you need her healing touch, kneel her down on her knees and say, “Woman, I need your Oral Therapy!” Can I get an amen!”
“Amen!” With that the neighbor guy down the street who apparently has to dress like a golfer at work, was off to get some Oral Therapy!
I know what you are thinking, “DAD, change is hard and scary. What if this idea blows up in our face. What if things get messy, How could we pull this off?” OK, I’m done. One more “the idea leaves a bad taste in my mouth!” Now I am done. With great change, comes great rewards. Say it, feel it, let it run around in your brain: Oral Therapy.
This could be the positive PR the blow job needs, a new image, a blow job make over. Today is the day for the blow job to step forward and take its place in the sun. No longer a J-O-B, it’s Therapy! You my sisters and gay brothers are…Therapists!
I can see a day where colleges teach Oral Therapy, offering a degree as an Oral Therapist. No longer a job of the domestic goddess, be the first woman or man on your block to stand up and claim, “I am an Oral Therapist and I am proud!”
Can I get an Amen!
The following story was true, the names have been changed so I continue to get invited to neighborhood BBQs.
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