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Tuesday, May 6, 2014

800 Kay Lay

Recently I read about a 28-year-old medical student who is auctioning off her virginity online. Bidding currently stands at $800,000. I won’t promote her to the two people who read this by posting the URL. You’ll have to find it yourself.

What was I thinking? I gave mine away for free!

Could someone help out this gay boy and make me figure out why a hymen is so valuable? I really do want to understand. People with my sexual orientation see post-coital blood stains on their penis as a cause for alarm, not euphoria. Can someone explain this to me?

In an effort to understand, I went to this chick’s website. She’s a skinny bleached-blonde, and proud of her green eyes, which I suspect are tinted contacts. The winning bidder will be treated to a 12-hour “date.” I wonder if dinner is on her or if that’s extra. The triumphant CEO who wins the prize (I’m assuming here, because who else has nothing better to do with that kind of dough?) agrees that he will either wear a condom or bring along a valid certificate (lab reports, maybe?) of being STD-free. Gee, you’d think that a medical student would know that one can be exposed to HIV and not test positive until months later.

And while you’re explaining to me the value of the hymen-pop, could you also let me know what straight man on this planet is going to pay close to a million dollars and wear a condom? What person is that? Someone with a latex fetish?

In the fine print, the winner agrees not to be violent with the Virgin (they capitalize it on the website). They also swear they will not penetrate the Virgin’s anus. I’m sorry, but for 800K, I would expect to have unbridled access to all orifices, including the back door, even if that didn’t appeal to me in the least (which, for the record, it doesn’t.)

The Virgin is using a pseudonym and is trying to keep her identity anonymous, lest she get canned from medical school. Yet she doesn’t have any qualms about posting pictures of her face, as well as of herself decked out in trashy Victoria’s Secret drag.

What’s funny about men is that we never pay attention to the post-orgasmic experience. Straight and gay alike, once we’ve finished, we’re ready to either go to sleep, take a shower, or, in Other Bill’s case, have a corned beef sandwich. We don’t recall any after-sex regret. We don’t remember the people we’ve slept with who were genuinely lousy lovers. We can’t recall times that we’ve wasted money wining and dining people, only to be disappointed to find out they have bad breath or never learned to kiss or just laid there looking at the ceiling or crying into their pillows. Whoever wins the Virgin is setting himself up for some serious buyer’s remorse.

If I were foolish and rich (is that redundant?) enough to shell out 800 G’s for a roll in the hay, I would want an iron-clad, money back guarantee that THIS roll in the hay would be the best roll in the hay I would ever, past and future included, experience. I’d want this written in:

If for any reason, the Successful Bidder takes part in sexual intercourse in the future which brings him greater pleasure, or has, in the past, experienced a better bang, the Virgin hereby agrees to refund Successful Bidder 100% of the fee, plus the restaurant tab, including tip.

What do men find attractive about sleeping with a virgin? Is it just the conquest? Bragging rights? Because when all is said and done, I would imagine that sex with someone with zero lovemaking logged hours would be lame at least, but probably pretty grotesque. I imagine that the Virgin’s nether parts are a little on the rusty side. She probably has a very angry va-jay-jay that is pretty upset about being ignored for almost three decades. What’s that word I’m looking for? Atrophy, that’s it.

The Successful Bidder agrees to not be under the influence of drugs or alcohol at the time of the deflowering, but there is nothing in the contract about being impotent. And if you think about it, you know the Successful Bidder is going to be thinking about the money he just shelled out and won’t be focusing on the mechanics.

Jesus Christ, I paid 800 thousand dollars for this! What was I thinking? I could have gotten two more Ferraris for that. I could be behind the wheel of one of them right now. In Germany, on the Autobahn. And instead I’m in the sack with this standoffish whiner who isn’t even good at this. I’ve gotten better results with hundred dollar hookers. God, if my wife finds out I shelled out this kind of cash, I will NEVER hear the end of it. “Oh sure,” she’ll say. “You won’t spend $250,000 to remodel the kitchen in our chalet, but you’ve got no problem dropping 8,000 C-notes on some Internet slut!” Wait, what’s going on down there? Why am I not responding? This babe is a FOX. Everything worked fine when I was looking at the pictures on her website in my office. But now, in person, you choose to go on strike? What is wrong with me? C’mon. COME ON! WORK! Maybe I could get a divorce and marry this girl. Think of the money I’d save.

It’s too bad the Virgin has a passion for medicine and not law. The contract looks like it was written by a slacker whose parents wanted him to go to law school, but he dropped out the first semester to become a DJ. Instead of being full of restrictions and roadblocks, too much of it is spent on Definitions. To quote:

             “Auction” refers to the auction referred to on the Website
             “Bid” means a bid lodged on the Website
             “Sexual Intercourse” means insertion of a peepee into a hoohoo.

Nothing in the contract specifies what she’s not willing to not put up with. No limits. So let’s say her knight in shining armor decides the only way he’ll have sex with her is if they do it in a hot tub filled with, say, camel spit? Hey, I’ve heard a lot worse. Nothing in the contract forbids that, so she’d be stuck. 

The Virgin lists five reasons for why she’s doing this. One of them is the eroticism.
Perhaps this will lead me into the arms of a gentleman with a similar appreciation for these unique circumstances, and make my first time worthy of both the wait and lasting memory.

Nothing says unforgettable like losing your cherry inside a vat of camel spit.

But wait; back up. She’s expecting a gentleman?

Call me old fashioned, but I think the Virgin needs to lose her naïvete before she dismisses her hymen.

Creative Commons License by Bill Wiley is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.

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