Judith M.
Yelp
Joe Louis's Fist: A Heavy-Handed and Highly Anachronistic Story of Unrequited Love
That rumor floating around about me being fisted by Joe Louis? Categorically untrue. That can of Crisco had nothing to do with me, and quite frankly, I find these accusations feral and preposterous. Did we have relations that were of a penetrative nature? Well, yes - but let me assure you they were completely orthodox. Entirely P. in V'gee. Joe was always a gentleman, through and through. Actually, if I'm being honest, he was more than that.
The story, in its entirety, is very painful for me to tell...emotionally, not orificially, that is. But you may as well hear it from the source.
When I first met Joe, I was very young and...rough around the edges, shall we say? If you think I'm a mess now, oh honey, you have no idea. The fact that he tolerated me for as long as he did was commendable, really. He would later go on to say, "I did the best I could with what I had."
My only real source of income back then was working as a part-time hostess at Universal Coney Island, which is where we met. It goes without saying that Joe already had his shit together, and I found that very attractive. Gone were the days of sleeping on a floor mattress and watching my significant other survive on ramen and resin. Joe had his own place, a cool car, and the winnings of many lucrative purses in the bank.
We had one blissful year together - floating like butterflies, stinging like bees. We partied a lot (and by partied I mean hookers and blow), but who doesn't in their 20s? Did I take full advantage of his largesse? Without hesitation. But Joe was always generous to a fault.
It was also during that time that I was still trying to get my fledgling choreography business off the ground. T-Baby was my first and last patron. In 2008, I choreographed the music video to her sensational hit single, "It's So Cold in the D". I really thought I was going places, but for reasons I'll never fully understand, my business just never took off.
Joe left me not long after. He explained that I made it impossible for him to follow one of his seven commandments as part of his code of conduct: "Live and fight clean." He went on to say that he "just wasn't in the same boxing ring" as me. I was heartbroken, but deep down I knew he was right.
I tried to move on with my life. I went on a string of meaningless dates with what can only be described as The Bum of the Month Club. I felt empty inside and settled for whatever I could get.
Eventually, I cleaned up my act and tried to become the sort of person Joe might be proud of. I landed a full-time position with benefits as the personal makeup artist to Shaggy 2 Dope. My job allowed me to travel the world and meet many remarkable and highly intelligent people throughout the years. I grew up a lot during that time, and in many ways, I was very lucky. Still, I always felt like a piece was missing.
Now here comes the best part! This is the best part comin' up. Get ready for the best part. I swear it's the best part (almost there).
We ran into each other again in 2023, at a medical marijuana dispensary called Knocked Out Cold. He looked like he'd just stepped out of a very tasteful adult film called Divorced But Still Diesel. I don't know what he was doing - Pilates, prayer, powdered elk antler? Whatever it was, it was working. I definitely felt my bird twitch.
The sexual chemistry was undeniable, but the feelings remained tragically one-sided. Joe made it clear he wasn't looking for a relationship, and I didn't fight him on that point. I was too busy climbing that man like a tree.
Did I ask him to "knock the p***y out like fight night"? Maybe. Probably. I do remember saying something along the lines of "Hit it with the left, hit it with the right!" but beyond that, things got a little foggy. What I do remember clearly is the part where, in the throes of passion, I yelled out, "Ice Cube, knock it out like Deebo!" because that's about the time he got his coat and left. He mumbled something about me being "too much" on the way out. He may have had a point.
Even though he's gone, I'm still grateful for the fleeting moments we had together. These days, I can't even drive down Jefferson anymore without getting choked up.
So in the end, one could perhaps say that I was, in fact, fisted by Joe Louis... in my heart and soul. :'(
(Apologies to Migos, and that one guy with the tuxedo t-shirt. Please don't sue me.)