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Ashley: The One That Got Away

Ashley was a coke dealer. Ashley was a man named Ashley. He was not italian but he looked italian and sometimes it would help him out to say he was. With the ladies you know. 

He had, in addition to a perfect sphere of a stomach dripping with curly oily hair, an oily jet black mustache. An exquisitely groomed mustache. A more handsome mustache could not possibly live in Florida (due mostly to the humidity.)

He'd wear chains that look like they came out of a grocery store dispenser. The kind they have so redneck mothers can entertain their bored kids. But they'd be worth like...at least the cost of the dispenser. A piece. That's TWO dispensers.  That's what we call "Balla Status". Ashley had that.

He wouldn't wear deodorant-OH but don't worry.

I saw you worry there. 


He would be wearing the finest cologne a Palm Beach Walgreen's could offer. You could smell that man from Nebraska when he got ready to do the town. And he did the town every night. All night long. He took that night willingly, even if some of his dates were less than willing. 

He drove an extremely rare integra. A red one. A rare red one that Bootsy Collins once walked by. He loved Bootsy.( And who doesn't though? Tight asses and racists. Exactly. )

He had put a wing on it that looked like it would be made of carbon fiber.

So in order to avoid any possibility of doubt, he wrote CARBON FIBRE BITCHES on it.

So bitches knew he had class. Ashley didn't fuck around with quality. No ajax in his product, no-only baking soda and novacaine. Like I said, Ashley did not fuck around with quality.


He'd go out to the club and he'd end up losing most of my profit on thai strippers. He would have traded his stash to win the consent of Krystel to drip honey on his belly and to take bumps off her botched brown nipples. 


Ashley never had HIV. He had everything else at least once. And some stuff just won't go away. Ashley knew that. He wasn't stupid; that's why he pulled out. A quality man. A smart man. The One that Got Away.

...

There isn't a night that doesn't torture me because of my fondness and lust for Ashley. If I didn't already sell my left nut, I would. To get him back.

Yeah, he lost all my money. Yeah, I'm still taking antibiotics. And yes, his hair did give me a rash that won't go away. But..I loved him.

And the sex...girls. Let me tell you. The sex was like... if god came down while you were at the zoo, and turned into a monkey and spanked you gently? Yeah it would be better than that.

There isn't anything I wouldn't give back for that 45 second moment when Ashley would delight and release himself all over the bed and my leg. And then go to the bathroom so he could dry heave for a while. He always rinsed his mouth out with whiskey though... considerate lover that he was. Goddamn...I miss him.  

Every night, I cry because his fat hands aren't around my waist. (And also the burning sensation is fairly painful.)

AND THAT'S WHO I'VE BEEN UPSET ABOUT. 


OKAY?


Mystery. 

Fuckin.

Solved.

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