Pluto Walks the Earth, Chapter 22
The Sex Scene
I didn’t tell you this before. In high school, I had a nickname. It wasn’t Bluto, or Plato, or Goofy, or Platypus, or Poopo or anything playing on my first name, as you might expect. It wasn’t MacGyver (unfortunately). This is embarrassing, but it was McDoll. The girls thought I was hot.
Not going to humble-brag. I see it. I know I’m good looking to some people, and I’m not gonna lie: It’s nice when girls pay attention. But, number one, I never knew whether they liked me for me, or because I reminded them of some actor or singer or something. And number two, believe it or not, I’m not all into the casual-sex thing. Several girls, like Johanna D., Marcy S., Breana S. and Bree L. (Homecoming Queen!), actually asked me if I just wanted to, you know, hook up. Marcy actually was (is?) a model for department stores like Boscov’s and some others, I think. And also Supercuts. So they’re all pretty cute. My dad was always on me to be more of a player. All the time, “My God, Pluto, when I was your age …” Yeah, when he was my age, he was a 17-year-old asshole. What my mom has put up with for 24 years is really sickening. I’m not following in his banking footsteps, and I’m not following in his perving footsteps, either.