Ugh!

How in the fuck did I end up here?

How? I’ll tell you, Asha, you got a ladyboner for yet another unkempt arty dude and this is exactly what arty dudes ask their girlfriends to do.

Thanks. Really, I appreciate that my own conscience condescends me, cause THAT’S what I need when I have a fucking blindfold over my face like I’m in some fetishist Chris Isaak “Wicked Game” video. Except Chris didn’t make his girlfriend (or the model he actually hired and paid handsomely) put a freaking pashmina over her damn face—which, mind you!, is already covered by my long hair.

NO, cause just taking a photo of your girlfriend on the beach isn’t damn artsy enough. What on EARTH could this possibly symbolize? Why! WHY! do I put myself INTO these situations? Ughhh.

I’ll tell you why, cause your hippie parents made you watch Bob Ross every day after school and you have some deep-seated wet spot for artists.

YES! Thank you, now you are making sense. Yes, let’s blame my parents. Oh, how I long to just be fucked up with daddy issues like the rest of my girlfriends. Though, dad did kinda sorta resemble Bob Ross, so I may have been screwed either way.

Damn it, Manolo! Can you hold the end of the damn blindfold WITHOUT fucking suffocating me!

You know Manolo is only Oscar’s assistant because he wants to fuck him.

I think everyone BUT Oscar knows this. Why else would he give his future bottom the means to possibly strangle his current fuckbuddy. On an empty beach. In New Zealand. JEEZus this is how Magritte’s mom died, isn’t it? Holy shit, did I just cold case that bitch’s alleged suicide?! Uhhh… yeah, I am gonna say something here, cause I’d rather not end up discovered by Hobbits washed ashore like some beached whale.

“Oscar? Have you got the shot yet? I kinda have to pee.”

Real classy.

It was “pee” or waterboarded at the hands of Manolo the Conqueror. YOU tell me how else to get out of this situation, this pseudo-relationship, this damn trip to a blissful paradise wasted for some gallery thinkpiece that’ll just end up on the Internet under some Creative Commons bullshit because “simple is beautiful” and Oscar just wants The World to have his art for free!

“I got it, Asha. Thanks, my lovely. I’ll meet you up at the house?”

“Sure. Maybe we just stay in tonight and Netflix?”

“You got it. Oh hey! They just added Bob Ross’ The Joy of Painting to streaming, did you hear?”

Well fuck me.

original photo by Oscar Keys (available to The World for free)