Wanna be in my book?


First of all, I apologize for my lack of posts lately.  I’ve been feeling very disoriented and distracted by life and its twists and turns. It’s not easy to be funny when you’re in a mood like that.  Plus it’s a bit like having Adult ADD, and you just can’t string two sentences together without being distracted by a hangnail or a sudden need to iron your socks.  That said, with all of sadness and fear and frustration going on in the world right now, I dug into my journal for blog ideas and stumbled on this one.  I hope it brings a laugh or two.


One of the things you learn very quickly about online dating is that it is basically just a forum for men to look for free sex. It’s a less creepy forum than just posting on Craigslist, because at least the assumption is you are probably not a serial killer. Sure, they may say they are looking for a “long-term relationship,” but they know the game. If they say they only want casual sex, you will pass by their profile. They tell you what they think you want to hear, and hope that buying you a cup of coffee will get you to give them a blowjob outside in the backseat in the Starbucks parking lot.

They are usually pretty easy to spot, because these are the guys who send you nude photos within 3 messages. It’s fun to tease, but eventually it gets annoying when that’s every guy you encounter. I had a collection of so many penises saved on my phone that my friends suggested I print them in a pop-up coffee table book.© [Editor’s Note: Don’t even think about stealing my idea.] It got to the point that I couldn’t remember the names of the guys, just their nicknames: Wonderschlong, Crooked Boy, Hung, Wilted Asparagus, Conehead, etc.

It actually made me less self-conscious in a way, because every guy is strangely wired to think their equipment is THE MOST FANTASTIC JUNK ON THE PLANET. Even if it is discolored, or hairy, or crooked, or of mutant proportions. Women are much more self-conscious. Gain 10 pounds and suddenly you won’t show yourself wearing less than a Snuggie.  Yet whether they were lying to me or not, I never was criticized for a picture I sent. I think that when presented with a picture of women’s breasts, the part of men’s brains that controls negative criticism is shut off by all the blood rushing from their head to their other head and all their brain can process is “BOOBS. BOOBS. BOOBS.”

There are rules of course. Never show your face in the picture with nudity. You never know where it will end up. This mistake from my younger days has cost me a career in politics, at least for now. Kind of like how Bill Clinton’s “I didn’t inhale” broke the dam, and someday we’ll have a President who mainlined heroin with Keith Richards. Now we’ve had the Anthony Weiner episodes 1 and 2, it’s only a matter of time before these pics become common in attack ads, and then people (aside from the seniors who don’t understand that you can send pictures with your phone over the interweb) will someday say “who doesn’t do that?” I figure if I pay off my enemies in time, I’ll be good to go in 2024. Duprey-Booker ’24. Or if I have my way, Booker-Booker ’24. Start donating to my “SuperPAC” now…

I have had several online relationships like this. There are a few I still get the occasional message from and it brightens my day, probably because it is the only action I am getting these days. Just this morning I received a random message from a superhot grad student from the Midwest. I had just woken up and was getting ready for work, but I didn’t want to cut him off because that would be rude. So there I was, in the shower trying to shave my legs, with one arm outside the shower curtain cybering with 6’4” chiseled-jaw Luke with the pierced tongue. With shampoo in my eyes it was hard (that’s what she said) to muster more than “mmmm” or “MMMMM”.  But guys are easy; you’d be surprised that’s all it takes.

2 thoughts on “Wanna be in my book?

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