You stand. Marty's his usual self, you think glumly, bossy and not hearing anything you have to say. "I guess you're right, Marty," you say, and trudge up the basement steps. It's super weird. You remember that 10 minutes ago, you were watching a football game, yelling at the TV when your team fell behind. But you also remember that 10 minutes ago, you and Marty were gearing up for a memorable session of the My Tiny Horse Tabletop RPG. If you think too much about both, it kinda gives you a headache -- ouch. "Better just find something else to do for now," you mumble in a deep voice. You'll have to go back to the carnival tomorrow and see what you can do to fix this.
You flip the TV to another channel, but there's not much on. Why you thought you would ever need this many sports channels, you'll never know. You settle on the cooking channel, delicious-looking meals flicking on and off the screen. Yum. You lick your lips, feeling sorta unfamiliar stubble around your mouth. Well, you guess the weird thing is that it is familiar, too -- you remember having facial hair in all kinds of styles basically since you and your ex-wife had Marty. That's weird too -- the "real" you remembers having a crush on Marty, meeting him in high school, doing whatever he said in the hopes that he would fall in love with you. But thinking about dirty diapers, screaming toddler tantrums, picking up after the kid as recently as today,makes the whole thing super gross. Kinda a no brainer that you can't have a crush on someone you also remember as your son, duh.
But, seriously, even though this whole thing is weird, isn't it kind of a chance to open your eyes n' stuff? Don't you deserve to do sexy stuff with someone nice? It's not really fair you've had shitty luck in two lives -- a mean, kinda grody friend who barely knows you exist (much less has feelings for you), and an ex-wife who might be the most frigid, exacting bitch in the Northern hemisphere. Ouch -- there's that head hurting again. Better not think about all that stuff at once. Your younger mind knows it's no trouble to post up some pictures on Tinder and Grindr and wait to see if anyone is interested. You didn't have the confidence to before, but now you're different, you're old n' stuff. You head up to your bedroom, a musky-smelling room with framed (but fading) photographs from the 80s and 90s. Vintage beer signs are hung proudly on the walls. It feels kinda cool to be in here, like the geeky 19 year old side of you gets to be a real manly guy for once. Someone who gets to call the shots instead of being bossed around. You strip down to your underwear, starting at your body in the mirror with a mix of strange curiosity, shame, and arousal.
You jiggle your fat belly with both hairy hands, check out your shiny half-bald head from plenty of angles, pull on your chest hair to see what it feels like -- taking pictures all the while. You look like any straight-laced laborer guy, but your body language says total geek. Weird. Kinda fun though, honestly, watching yourself like this. You finally pull off your threadbare gray boxers, exposing a musty-smelling crotch, complete with a thicket of black hairs and a fat choade. You're thick like a can of mountain dew, and about half as big. The 44-year old inside you knows that although it doesn't look very impressive, it's brought a few pussies to intense orgasm in its day. Length is overrated, you've always said. You're about to upload a dick pic to your profile too, when your beaten-up phone vibrates -- it looks like you already have a match. Coolio! There's no face pic, but they have a hot body and they got right to the point in the messages -- pretty awesome!
You don't bother getting redressed. It feels strange to walk around naked in Marty's house like you own it, but you guess you do, hehe. Plus you know there's no way of your dweeby-son-slash-former-best-friend coming up and seeing you. You know (from experience, ugh) that he's probably in the middle of an erotic RP already. It's not long before your match comes to the door, knocking excitedly. Marty can pretend to get laid, but you're going to enjoy the real thing while you wait to fix this mess.
You open the door to see...