Perhaps you’ve noticed that I am truly avoiding an X-rated blog, on the philosophy that any decent writer can express herself without resorting to common vulgarities. Consequently, let’s call the topic of this post “drinking from the fount of life.” I’ll proceed by stating that twenty-five percent of the world’s men are actually gay (though you’d never know it by looking at their abs). How did I arrive at this number? In my experience, sadly, as many as half of all men barely even know what that there fount looks like, much less have they ever taken a sip…. So, I’ll allow for a certain amount of extreme religious conservatism or STD-paranoia (although, my friends, there definitely are WAYS) and take off another half. That leaves 25% with no other excuse that I can see, other than that they are secretly gay.
Womyn, I have decided that men who don’t like the way you smell and taste are best advised to 1) have sex with themselves or 2) to have sex with other men. And while I’m at it, let me launch into my shaving rant, which I promised to do a long while back. Really, if you want constant itching and rashes, that's your choice, am I right? But a man who requires you to be shaved, either 1) would prefer to imagine you as 10- to 12-years-old, 2) is so abysmally ignorant that he thinks “clean” means AIDS-free, or 3) is kidding himself, does not really like women, and is -- again -- secretly gay. And now, my gay males friends, in return for your unerring advice on matters of fashion and proper (ahem!) lubrication, I propose sending all these teetotalers your way. Corrupt them, please. It will be much more fulfilling for them, and we womyn won’t have to continue wasting our time, finding out only when it’s already too late.