These past several months have been educational. Savage Kitten called an end to our relationship last summer. Since then I have learned several things. Amongst others, a straight man needs both body odour and tattoos to get laid in San Francisco, and that desperation leads to strange acts.
Lets discuss the sex life of straight San Francisco men first. Tattoos are immensely attractive to the contemporary female. I have regularly seen what I thought were civilized young ladies swooning over idiots with tattoos, piercings, and dubious personal cleanliness.
Raggedy facial hair that screams "I am an artist" or "I am a rebel" also helps.
Consequently I must conclude that women in this city are insane. Stark raving bonkers. Out of their minds. Weirdo skank-sex maniacs.
What absolutely proves it is that NONE of the well-behaved rational washed straight men of my acquaintance have gotten any physical lovin' in years. Shaving, clean clothes, and a reasonable level of literacy - absolutely the death-knell for your sex life. Trust me.
It explains all the Mid-Westerners and Rednecks with stupid smiles all over their faces in this city.
Fairly decent men are perforce made monks.
No wonder this world is going to hell.
Now, as far as strange behaviour is concerned, let's talk about substitutes for sex. We are not Woody Allen.
So we engage in unusual practices.
Chocolate ice-cream with Tabasco? Check.
Poking myself in the ear with a writing implement? Check.
Jelly donut washed down with Crystal hot sauce? Check.
Personal grooming with fork and sand paper? Check.
Sriracha chilisauce and large gummy tapioca balls? Check.
Frying stale pizza face-down in almond oil? Check.
Habañero and spam sandwich? Check.
Painting torso with lipstick? Check.
Cayenne-dusted frozen apple pie? Check.
Trust me, it all works. Conceivably far better than an actual other person.
I can't remember what warm flesh feels like, but I remember the last capsaicin high I had.
I'd be surprised if the average clean straight man without piercings, tattoos, or highly individualistic clothing and hair gets whoopee as often as once a year in this city. Certainly knowledge of soap, and an avoidance of party drugs, criminal behaviour, and stupidity, don't lead to a mutually satisfying hot relationship.
Not in San Francisco.
There must be sane women here. Just wish I knew where both of them hung out. Or all three, if there's more.
Until I know, I guess I'll just admire, fondle, and stroke some fine fresh Jalapenos. Taught and green.
Maybe dip them in creamy bacon ranch and enfold them languorously, run their smooth tight narrow-ends over my pouty lips
Sing love songs to my well-built torso in the mirror while posing with them.
Green chile dance. Tres interpretief.
Skip, skip, and pose.
Caffeine and nicotine are also good. So is a juicy coriander-crusted chop just oozing grease.
Or cookies.
Just add sugar.
It all goes well with hot.
Like nothing else in this city.
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5 comments:
So, mehendi (henna) temp tats may be an approach.
So, mehendi (henna) temp tats may be an approach.
Absolutely not.
False pretences, and people who require personal markings (and would be fooled by mehndi) are probably foolish, certainly silly. Nor will I cease shaving and showering on a regular basis.
Even if surrounded by savages, one must maintain one's standards. ESPECIALLY if surrounded by savages.
I may have previously mentioned that my depraved fantasies involve sensible intelligent decent women.
Nice people, or bust.
Life is too short to drink Starbucks.
"Shaving"? Hmmm, not till the length of my beard interferes with walking! Well, if you're looking for classier, intelligent dates, don't look in sleazy bars. Perhaps Shul (Purim is coming!) libraries, symphonies, lectures, laundromats and upscale groceries in nicer neighborhoods (the old "which detergent do I use?" line might still work ) etc. But certainly anywhere is better than your office! Get out a little.
By shaving I meant the area around the beard and moustache.
Nothing wrong with a neat beard, nicely trimmed, no scraggly hairs sticking out, not a cluster of birdnest material.
You know, something that doesn't scream "loonie", "druggie", or "pretentious artistic type".
Something that looks clean.
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