I'm actually writing this more for my father, as a reminder that I own him. And that revenge is a dish best served cold or in the laundry room...
At 19, I was dating a girl that I was very sexually attracted to. And being 19, "sexually attracted to" was #2 on the list of life priorities, right below being able to touch myself (#1) and breathing (#3). Now imagine the person you perceived to be the MOST SEXUALLY attractive person, at 19, and dating a virtual clone. It was like Disneyland, only with sex. So, Disexneyland. I had NO idea what this girl liked about me and I had no wish to stand around asking.
Ok, so fast forward a few months and our "dates" are usually "going through the motions" to make it seem like I didn't just care about sex. But the problem was I DID care about sex. And I realized quickly that I must make an effort to make it appear I cared about MORE than sex, to have MORE sex. You can't ******* argue with 19 year old logic. Seriously. It's like standing in the mirror trying to debate your boner. It's not going down. It's not going to say "well, you're right. She's quite a deep thinker and I rather appreciated her views on the latest heath care reform." You have a boner. You either do something with the boner or you stick your hand in cold water. Those are the ONLY two options. Period.
I was living with my father during this time, and my GF and I had two options for getting it on. In the car, which honestly, did just fine. Or the house. Which, every time we could have sex in the house, made me feel like I had one upped the old man. I was the superior being in the house. So, my father, well wise to what he suspected had been going on while he was away at work, had used his super parenting skills to determine that the sound of his car pulling in the driveway, always gave me a 5 minute warning. And at 19, I needed only 13 seconds to get my pants on, leaving me PLENTY of time to get things organized and situated before he walked in.
However, my father, being the fine gentleman he is, decided that I should not be having sex in his house. To which had he simply said, there will be sex in my house but it shall only be between ME and MY girlfriend, I would have argued but relented and made other arrangements. You must always put up some resistance before giving up, it's mandatory so as to retain what little power you have at 19. But no. He couldn't be troubled to be civilized about it. He had to go all "Splinter Cell" on me. And that's where it all got dicey...
One afternoon I'm home with the GF and my father is at work and we're in my room and I've decided to be brave and take my first voyage south of the border (or perform oral sex on her for those out there that require more detail). She's naked, on the bed, knees over my shoulders and I am making my way south doing everything I can to be smooth, when I happen to look up at her and her eyes are open. Which is fine but they are WIDE open and they're not staring at me, they're staring at the door. And I close my eyes, because I know. I ******* know what's happened and I whisper "checkmate. He ******* checkmated me" - knowing full well that there isn't a bookie in Vegas that would even TOUCH a bet that I could somehow get revenge on my father.
How long he must have been on stakeout, how many days he must have waited until I FINALLY showed up with her, I may never know. He parked somewhere undetected by me, must have waited some pre-calculated time called out in the teenager sex guide, and found some elaborate path to my bedroom without triggering a SINGLE ONE of the warning noises I'd spent YEARS learning the location of. You know, the third stair, 4 steps on the right in the hallway near the wall, a 3/4 not 1/2 pull on the sliding glass door, he FOILED the entire system... I actually think he donned a black leotard, put on night vision goggles, sprayed some mist around to spot the areas that emitted noise, and shimmied his way to my room. There, he pulled out a stethoscope, placed it against the door, turned the knob until he found just the right balance between open and not trigger noise, before successfully gaining access to the show. I was angry. I had been denied. But I was impressed.
I didn't even bother turning around. My GF just rolled over on her side, and my father said "take her home" - which was ironic because SHE was the one with the car at the time and he KNEW I didn't have a car so sure, pull that move and then kick a brother when he's down for good measure. We got dressed, got in the car, and my GF said "I'm pretty sure he'd been standing there for a few minutes before I saw him" - That sneaky *******. Yes you dad. But you KNOW WHERE THIS IS GOING...
Act 2 - I wait. I will not BE DENIED my revenge. He and his girlfriend at the time, now wife, have a system that is virtually IMPOSSIBLE to crack. They get it on downstairs, on the most popular nights of the week, when they know that in order for me to catch them, I'd have to give up seeing the GF and thus sex, and that's not going to happen. But I, was not to be underestimated. I wait 3 years. THREE YEARS for my revenge. I'd moved out, needed to give him some time to get "comfortable", to believe I'd let things go. But I know the drill, I'd done my recon, I knew that when the main lights went out and the blue lights from the stereo were on, they were having sex. So, I pick a Friday and head to my father's house BEFORE they arrive. I toss a load of laundry in the washer. Now I've got noise AND an alibi.
I wait, in the dark, in the house for my father to arrive home from dinner with the GF. It's midnight, I hear the car pull in. I turn on the washing machine and escape out the back. I wait. I wait some more, and then the lights go off, the blue lights come on, soft music, I wait 5 minutes for good measure, and then I begin the assault.
I sneak up to the front door and unlock it. I then barge in, run downstairs and walk into the laundry room, turning on all the lights. I pretend I don't see them but there's no escape. They're trapped. They can't get past the laundry room without me seeing. They're naked, in the missionary position, on the couch, frozen. Petrified. Doing whatever it takes not to make a sound believing that I have no idea they, are there. I did. And I was going to make him pay. So I take my time in the laundry room, and I fold some clothes, and pretend like I'm just doing a load of laundry, with all the lights on. Which basically means all the cars driving by can clearly see my dad on top of his girlfriend, naked, on the couch. It's lovely.
And then I decide it's time to frost the cake so I turn around and walk out of the laundry room as if to leave, turning off all the lights to make him think he's gotten away with it. I give them just enough time to exhale and stand up, before I turn around and turn on the lights. And there, standing in all their naked glory without any clothing nearby, is my father and his GF. Mortified. I stand there without saying anything, pressuring him to say something or sweat though the awkwardness of it all. The GF was trying to cover herself but couldn't move without being forced to walk past me. I stood there, my father finally hung his head and shook his head. Eyes closed. Defeated. I turned to the side so they could walk past me to the bedroom, the dreaded walk of shame.
In the years since, we've never discussed that scene. There is no mention of embarrassing stories, no "remember that time..." moments from my father. He knows better.
