A Pedophile Lurking Behind Every Dark Corner

November 7th, 2007.

I have a friend lifespan of roughly 3 years. For those of you who don’t know, a ‘friend lifespan’ is the amount of time two people generally remain friends until they either grow apart or get into an argument large enough that reconciliation is impossible. Some people are able to maintain lifelong friendships and still chat with their best friend from preschool. Others recycle friends like aluminum cans and prefer to surround themselves with new people every 4 months or so. For me, I’ve learned that 3 years is length of time the average person can stand to spend time with me. There are exceptions to this rule, of course, but generally, my personal friendships tend to go boom somewhere around the 3 year mark.

The reason I mention this is one of my friendships pretty officially bit the dust yesterday and the whole situation has put me in a very reflective mood. I’m not sure if I feel regretful or relieved. Perhaps, it’s a little of both.

The Ex-friend in question is a single Mother. I met her before she had her child…back when she was still ambitious and well rounded. Unfortunately, after her progeny arrived, her personality slowly, but surely evaporated. Soon, her kid became her obsession and every single solitary thing she did was done for the good of her daughter.

My friend, who used to laugh at the fear mongering media, started imagining pedophiles lurking behind every dark corner. She spent her nights browsing sex offender websites searching for possible dangers in her neighborhood. Petitions and background checks and Anti Child Kidnapping kits became her life. No longer could I sit down with her and have a discussion about art or literature or politics. Every single conversation we had would eventually revert back to which creep would eventually stuff his sausage in her 2 year old daughter’s twat.

I would attempt to remind her that, statistically speaking, it wasn’t likely that a perfect stranger would kidnap, rape, and kill her precious baby bumpkins. If the child was going to be violated, the evil doer would most likely end up being a relative or whatever bozo my friend finally elected to marry. However, her ability to rationalize evidently got thrown out with her placenta and my arguments fell on deaf ears. The whole goddamn song and dance was getting tiresome.

Yesterday, my friend dropped by my house, hysterical. Apparently, her daughter was at a play-date with a friend. The girls were having a blast and to document the occasion, the parents decided to take a picture of the duo together. No big deal, right?

Wrong. My friend was having a proverbial fit over that picture! Why, you ask? Because her daughter happened to be donning a bathing suit when it was taken. And, OH MY FUCKING GOD, what if a nefarious pedophile ends up seeing it? My friend has taken great pains to avoid taking a picture of her daughter in a bathing suit (EVER) in order to protect her from becoming masturbation material. As it turns out, all of her hard work was for naught. The parents of her daughter’s best bud ruined everything with an innocent click of their digital camera.

Give me a fucking break.

I interrupted my friend’s hysterical shrieking to ask, “Do you think the Father is a child molester?”

“Well, no…” she started.

“Are they planning to display the picture on the Internet or something?”

“Not that I know of…”

“Then why are you so upset?”

“I don’t know who goes over to their house! ANYONE could find that picture!”

I audibly sighed, not looking forward to the next 2 hours I’d likely have to spend calming her down with logical reassurances. Almost desperate, I started racking my brains for the quickest possible strategy I could utilize in order to get her to shut the fuck up.

Finally, I said, “Do you seriously believe pedophiles would go rooting through your neighbor’s photo albums for images to beat off to rather than just do a quick search online?”

“You’re missing the point!” she admonished.

“No, you’re missing the point,” I snapped, “No one is going to molest your fucking kid. Frankly, she’s not hot enough to molest.”

“W-w-what?” she sputtered in response.

“Well, I suppose she’s decent enough looking,” I answered mildly, “But let’s be honest here. She’s just not cute enough to risk 10 years in prison for. Now her friend, on the other hand, is a different story. She is one hot, prepubescent piece of ass.”

When I looked into my friend’s eyes at that moment, I could actually see the ‘We’re Friends’ train come screeching to a halt. Then, it derailed off the track, flew off of a cliff, and landed at the bottom of a valley full of jagged rocks.


Now that I think on it, I suppose I’m not regretful after all. A day without my Ex-friend’s paranoid bleating is a beautiful day indeed.

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