NIGHT TIME CLEAN UP

There are two nights a week this quarter that I work late. I have to stay on campus until 9:30 pm. It’s not a big deal. The rest of my workweek is really light right now, so I have nothing to really complain about, except one small problem…I do try to avoid the nighttime janitor in my building who enjoys talking about anal sex.

Yeah. Please let me know if you have the same problem.

Actually, I’ve been avoiding going to my office at night and choose rather to stay and work in a classroom, or the library. I’ve been doing this for the last 4 years.

The nighttime janitor in my building is a really nice guy from Central America. He really is very nice. However, he asked me what was the best way to approach anal sex. I suggested trying it from the rear. HA! But truly, he asks me this WAY too often. Once is inappropriate, multiple times is trauma.

I should establish a few things here.

He doesn’t know that I’m gay. He may suspect it, but I’ve never divulged that to him. He may have started wondering that one time when we were making out, but besides that, there really shouldn’t be anything obvious. He does know that I have a degree in Psychology though. And as soon as he found this out, he began asking me every inappropriate question he could think of.

I immediately specified to him that it was a Bachelor’s Degree; that I am a former social worker, but that I really wasn’t a licensed therapist. He didn’t care. He was just looking for an excuse to ask me explicit questions.

I also would like to state for the record that some years back, he was in a bad accident that totally fucked his head up. I mean seriously. He has a big scar where he had brain surgery (probably a lobotomy) and the way his hair grows out of the scars, dips and grooves of his skull is sporadic and his eyes kind of go every-which-way. I actually never know where he’s looking, which freaks me out even more.

So, his condition tugs at my heartstrings, while his questions tug at my barf strings.

I barely knew him when he asked me in his broken English, “Is sex on butt no good?” Humm…I thought, you’re asking me? That’s pretty funny. I told him that certainly some people do it and that there’s a responsible way to go about such activity. After all, it really is an exit door, not an entrance ramp. So, some care and certain precautions should be taken. He wanted to do it with his wife and wanted to know what to do.

I told him that when I used to work as an orderly in a hospital, that when I had to give enemas, there was a certain way to give it to the patient that made it more comfortable for them then say, standing on their head. If the patient would lie on their right side, the large intestine lays in a natural way that they can “take it” easier. So, I told him. I had to repeat the information about the enema and tell him where he could buy one to administer to his wife. (I can’t believe I’m telling you about this. Yes, I can. No, I can’t. Yes, I can...)

Every time he’d see me thereafter, he’d ask me about it again. And he’d get out a piece of paper and take notes. I found the whole thing embarrassing and ridiculous. But, with tufts of his hair sticking out all over his jacked-up head, his crazy eyes and his broken English, the social worker in me took over and I wanted to help him…even with this issue. My need to help others goes beyond reason, as you’ve probably figured out. However, I was NOT going to give him a demonstration, or even a power-point presentation. Get it? Power point presentation? Penis – power – point? Get it? Okay, bad joke…

Anyway, I began realizing that it was just too bizarre that he kept bringing this up. I finally asked him if he talked about it with his wife. He said, “Jes, on the phone.” I asked him why they didn’t talk about it in person? He said that she lived IN GUATEMALA! I told him that was probably going to be a problem, unless he has a penis a thousand miles long. And in that case, he'd better notify the Coast Guard and U.S., Mexico and Guatemala Immigration and Border Patrol to tell them what the hell they're dealing with when they see his giant penis showing up on radar trying to penetrate the border. Get it? Penetrate the border? Penetrate - penis - border - cornhole? Get it? Okay, bad joke...

He and his wife see each other once a year, so he was preparing to poke her butt when he goes to Guatemala to visit. How really very sweet. What a lovely, romantic gentleman. Then, I started thinking…something else is going on here. He just looks too damn excited when he’s asking me about this, almost orgasmic, which makes me want to hurl projectile vomit at him and tear my own hair out.

Whether or not he wanted to poke me or his wife or someone else, I don’t know. But I was getting really tired of this. The next time I saw him, he took out his note pad – ready to write down everything and said, “What kind enema I use?” And I began screaming, “No mas! No mas! No more talk of this!” He felt bad and apologized. He then asked me if it was okay to look at porn on the web here at work. I said, “Unless you want to get fired, I’d stop looking if I were you. Now, no more of this talk, you’re driving me mucho loco!”

His eyes started rolling all over the place and he looked so dejected. I felt bad, but this was completely absurd and inappropriate. And I was fucking tired of it. Just because he was in an accident doesn’t mean that I have to subject myself to be the authority on his instructional development of anal pokage!!!

So, now I’m barricaded in a classroom across campus to avoid him. I don’t even want the chance that he’ll start talking about anything sexual. Maybe I should’ve just slept with him and got it over with…but then again, I’d rather take a bubble bath with a bunch of wild cats. And now, he won’t even empty my garbage, the butt-fucker.