User:Bone/Sasquatch

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Dude, "Sasquatch" is not the preferred nomenclature. Yeti-American, please. (from the obscure "Bigfoot Cut" of The Big Lebowski)

The physical act of fucking a sasquatch is not nearly as difficult as one might imagine.

The year was 1992, my sophomore year of college. I was still living in California (this predates my University of Miami days), with its permissive, "anything goes" atmosphere. The sordid tale in question took place at a rowdy Halloween party. If you must know, I was dressed as a circa-1987 "glam metal rocker," with a huge mullet-riffic wig and a Warrant t-shirt that is still in my closet. Anyway, I started chatting up this lovely, 6'9" girl who turned out to be a Yeti-American, but at the time I thought she was a human in a sasquatch costume.

She was really witty, with a cruel streak in her sense of humor that delighted me. Plus, she had deep, soulful brown eyes, and an amazing ass... so, once we got a little tipsy on the "grain alcohol-and-Gatorade" concoction being served by our hosts, when she suggested we go upstairs who was I to say no?

I'm not going to go into the actual mechanics of Bigfoot fornication, as I'd like to maintain at least a pretense of decorum here. All I will say is that I see the evolutionary advantage in the thick shaggy hair. Sasquatchi can get very, um, vigorous... and it helps to have something to grab onto.

Plus, female sasquatchi have six nipples. I still haven't decided if this is horrifying or convenient.

She and I hung out a couple of times after that, but nothing physical ever happened again. We both reached the unspoken conclusion that perhaps we were better off not pursuing a meaningful relationship with each other. Last I heard she moved back to British Columbia and now has some sort of job in corporate litigation. There are times when I like awake at night and wonder "What might have been?"

And then I remember that she's a frigging sasquatch, and I get over it.