There we were, just me and her, floating in space.
And she wouldn't even have sex with me.
We were miles above the earth in a cozy little NASA spaceship, and we would remain there for one calendar year. Our mission, well, that escapes my mind at the moment. I was kinda zoning out when our boss told us what we were supposed to do, but then again dude's got a boring voice so even if he told me that he has a talking vagina made out of sprinkles and glitter that shoots out McDonald's special sauce at hour intervals except on the Lord's day (Sunday), it wouldn't make it past my inner eardrum.
The point is, here I was in the deep, endless, romantic expanses of space, tumbling through uncharted universe with a hot chick and she was gonna play the "no" card. Bulllllll shit.
I didn't know her story, and I didn't ask. Whether she wasn't attracted to me (near impossible) or she had a husband or she was into chick astronauts if you know what I mean or she had just gotten out of a bad relationship or whatever, it didn't matter. All I knew was that there was the reality (her not letting me put it in her) and the ideal (me joining the hundred-mile-high club) and I was going to make ideal come together with reality until they became one. I was going to make ideal take reality from behind, whether reality liked it or not, but trust me, reality would like it, reality would really like it, and so would ideal, and reality and ideal would fuck happily ever after.
I was going to get her to sleep with me, by any means necessary if worst came to worst. After all, there's no rape charges in space. Plus, the only judge I'm scared of is Judge Judy, and I don't think she handles rape cases.
I have 12 months to get this woman to have sex with me. In space.
Is it possible for women to be on their period for months at a time? Yes, yes it fucking is.
I tried everything. I tried nothing. I tried being myself (which is a mixture of George Clooney, that wrestler The Blue Meanie, Judas from the Bible, and Ellen DeGeneres' cat).
I tried repetition. Every morning as she opened her eyes from sleep, there I would be, standing over her whispering "YOU'RE GOING TO SLEEP WITH ME" over and over.
I tried some pick up lines. "People in 3rd world countries don't even have clean water, and you're telling me you're not going to have sex with me? How do you sleep (without me) at night?" "I brought along the 5th season of Full House, let's fuck to it, just you and me." "I'm a really good guy, I donated $2 to Haiti."
This is no longer about me getting my rocks off. I need to do this for the sake of humanity. (We're not the last two people off Earth, but still I feel like the future of humanity depends on me doing her. I'm doing it for the children. I mean I'm doing her for the children. I mean not yet, but.)
Boss wants us to stop off at a recently discovered planet. We have no idea what to expect. Will they be armed and dangerous? Will they have no arms, but still be dangerous? Will their arms be not arms, but giant cheese graters? Will they be watching Tyler Perry movies and TV shows on repeat, setting our retinas on fire?
As we get closer to the planet, Snuggolia, I am in awe at what I see. I look down, and all I can see are Snuggies. Millions of aliens running around with Snuggies of every imaginable color, pattern, and type as far as you can see. Some of the Snuggies are made of a fabric which is a video screen that rotates advertisements and porn. If this isn't Heaven, well then gosh I don't know what is.
There are Snuggies you wear to the beach. There are Snuggies you wear while taking a bath. There are Snuggies for funerals.
There are even Snuggies with built-in condoms. Now I don't know about you, but to me the sexiest thing humanly possibly would be two people getting it on in Snuggies, high fiving each other and shit.
Finally, a society where it is acceptable to wear a Snuggie out in public. Finally.
We learned a lot about the Snuggie People. How their Snuggies are actually made out of the ShamWow! material, making them warmer and protecting the wearer from every possible environmental danger or spilled cans of soda. How when a child is born, he comes out of his father's vagina with a Snuggie on. If the Snuggie is ever lost, taken off, or stolen, the child will regenerate a new one, as the Snuggie is his natural skin. However, once children on this planet reach age 16, they lose this feature, so the adults are extremely protective of their Snuggies. For should they lose their Snuggie, they die a slow (1 week) and painful (lots of pain) death.
After we completed our mission (something with like measuring rocks or something, I don't fucking know, at this point my balls are bluer than, well, something that's super blue I guess. I don't know), we sat around with the Snuggie People and drank.
They told us how a couple hundred miles away there's another country, Slanketopia. Its citizens come here often and assault the villagers, ripping off their Snuggie skin and selling it on the black market for cheaper back home in Slanketopia. I sat there with my mouth open. After all, underneath my clothes, I have to admit, I was wearing a Slanket. I never knew that's how the product was made. I figured it was just made in a children's sweatshop under horrible conditions or something.
I was wearing the fur of one of their dead cousins. I took another drink and was eerily quiet for the rest of the night.
We prepared to bid farewell to the planet, this wonderful place where people with Snuggies aren't beat to death with frying pans for their sexual orientation. The only thing I didn't like about the Snuggie People is that they high five way too much.
I promised them I would be back to save them from those evil Slanketonians. But who am I kidding? I have A LOT of shows on my DVR that I haven't watched yet. And it's getting full. Soon I'll have to delete some programs.
As we lifted off the planet and it got smaller and smaller, I looked over at my female cockblock of a co-astronaut. She was squinting in concern as she looked down at Snuggolia. "Why are those two Snuggolians running around naked, screaming wildly? Did the Slanket People attack?"
I looked her square in the eyes. "Happy early Christmas, baby," I whispered as I handed her a bloody Snuggie. It was the most romantic thing I'd ever done. She could barely hear me over the haunting scream of the naked Snuggie People, but eventually we were out of earshot. "I got us matching Snuggies!" I exclaimed as I gave her the pink one and started putting on my blue one.
There was one last wretched scream, louder than all the others, and then it was back to the sweet warming silence of space.
I spoke—the only noise around for several light years—in my soft, reassuring, sexy-like voice: "Don't worry, I left behind $14.95 plus Processing & Handling."
There was a little twinkle in her eye that said, "Thank you for giving me this Snuggie that's sooooo romantic maybe now I'll have sex with you. Maybe now I will finally have sex with you."
That last scream from the dying Snuggian haunted my nightmares for days, in between all the wet dreams that is. I was getting laid…in my dreams. It was a start. It was a fucking start.