The Ballad of “Penis Dave”

Zombyboy asks his readers about cool nicknames, and while he’s at it, discusses bad nicknames as well. It got me thinking of the story of that poor friend of mine who got stuck with the moniker, “Penis Dave”…

Dave was a friend of mine from work, back in the day. He and I would hang out together off-hours, and one night I invited him out to see some friends of mine play in their band, Spocks Johnson. These other friends of mine, Jeff and Jim, were in the band, and Jeff’s ex girlfriend, Karen, who came out with us that night, was sort of the slut of the group, kind of like Elaine Bennis on Seinfeld. I suppose that would make Jeff Jerry, Jim Castanza because they were old childhood friends, and well, yours truly would be Kramer.

So the band played at this grungy bar near the Fleet Center, and while they played it was just Dave, Karen and I. I made all the introductions, and I remember leaving to go to the bathroom and seeing Dave and Karen making out like there’s no tomorrow. They made out before the show, during the performance, and afterwards the hurriedly ran out the door together. Jeff, Jim and I all chuckled about what had happened, and thought nothing of it until later.

I must have asked Dave what had happened that night, probably if he and Karen were to become an item. But that was about it. It just wasn’t all that significant to me. It was only when I next got together with Jeff, Jim and Karen that Karen started telling this bizarre story about what had happened.

She desribed them heading to the Dunkin’ Donuts to get a cup of coffee. They sat down in a booth, and Dave, she explained, was all over her, practically tearing her clothes off and humping her right there in the store. So she suggested they go out to the garage where they both happened to be parked. “We got in the car,” she said, “and he pulled it out, and just looked at me, smiling.”

“What???” we all exclaimed. “You’ve got to be kidding, right?”

“Nope. He pulled it out, and it stood there erect, and he looked at it, and then back at me, smiling, and then back at it again…”

“So what did you do?” we wanted to know.

“Well, I pointed out that there were probably security cameras filming us, and that this wouldn’t be a good place to do that. So he agreed and quickly put it away. And then I left his car to go drive home, and he followed me!”

“What?” We were incredulous, “What do you mean, he followed you?”

“He followed me. For like two hours, I could see him in the rear view mirror, smiling, following me home. Eventually, after I kept driving in circles and all over the place, he gave up and went home alone.”

This was all too much. But Dave was a smiley kind of guy, so parts of the story, particularly him smiling the whole time, seemed believable enough. And while I was friends with the guy, I hadn’t known him all that long, and so there was an element of doubt. I mean, who can really know for sure, right?

Dave and I continued hanging around, but among Jeff, Jim and I he’d received an unfortunate nickname, “Penis Dave.” So it’d go something like this:

Jeff: So Rob, what are you doing tonite?

Rob: Well, me and Penis Dave were thinking of getting a few beers down in Allston. Wanna come out?

Jeff: Sure, I haven’t seen Penis Dave in a while. I’ll meet you there.

Of course, all of this went on unbeknownst to Penis Dave. It was the nickname he was referred to as, not the nickname he was called. So it went on like this for months on end until finally, I couldn’t take it anymore. He was a friend of mine, and he’d only become a better friend of mine over time. And here we were, calling him Penis Dave without even having heard his side of the story.

So I told him.

As one might expect, his feelings were hurt by the nickname. But he was perhaps more upset at Karen’s depiction of what had happened that night. According to Dave, they left for the Dunkin’ Donuts, and it was Karen who jumped all over him. So Dave suggested they go out to the parking lot, and when they got to his car it was Karen who voraciously attacked his crotch and pulled out his penis. It was Dave who told her to stop because of the security cameras. And then came the twist. According to Dave, Karen suggested that Dave follow her home for the night, and that after driving all over creation, Dave got tired of the games, and just decided to go home.

So in every imaginable way, the story was the opposite of what Karen had told us.

We needed to get to the bottom of this, and the opportunity presented itself at a bbq, which Jeff, Jim, Karen and I were at. Also present was my psychologist friend, Jon, who used his powers to help dig the truth out of Karen. The sun had gone down, and we all sat in chairs around the glowing embers of the grill, each going round-robin, asking Karen details of the night. After hours of exhaustive questioning, we had learned the truth.

It was exactly as Dave had described it.

Evidently Karen, afraid that Dave would immediately disclose to me her slutty behavior, concocted the story so as to protect her “reputation,” if it could be called such a thing. And while she did invite him back to her place, she changed her mind, and so she figured she’d lose him by driving around in circles all night, which she did. The truth was known.

So you might think that given that the story as Karen had told it, the story that had earned Dave the moniker, “Penis Dave” was an entire fabrication, that we would have let the name drop. Unfortunately, the answer is no. Once a Penis Dave, always a Penis Dave.

Sorry Dave, but that’s just the way it is.


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