Amazingly, in spite of my intelligence, generosity, and what my mother tells me are good looks, I haven't dived into the ol' poon pit for 4 and a half years. It has been almost half a decade since my trouser snake dined on spam butterfly. It's been 54 months since I last visited the fur cottage in the valley.

For those of you who are less than hip, that basically means that I have not managed to have sexual intercourse since October 1996.

"Hell," the fat guy with the Gummi Bears stuck in his beard is thinking, "I bet he'd jump anything, regardless of how ugly!"

Yes, that IS what were you thinking. Don't deny it. You would have said it youif you weren't stuffing your mouth full of Twinkies. I notice he's taking up two chairs.

"Yeah," he shouts, spraying saliva-laden food over half of the section, "but I get more chicks than you!"

What a shame. I was going to let him live. I throw a glance at the loyal follower who was oiling up the harpoon gun. The next intermission, when that guy pries his ass out of that chair....

So anyway, yes, the lard monkey gets more chicks than me. Toothless braindead yokels get more chicks than me. Guys with personal hygiene odious enough to repel even the hardiest of flies get more chicks than me. In fact, even men who aren't criminals, drug addicts, high school dropouts, or complete assholes manage to get chicks.

How is this possible? Well, unless they luck out and manage to get that rare chick willing to look beyond their slovenliness or niceness, they get chicks by being willing to hop into the sack with women who are not, to put it delicately, blessed with the most angelic of faces. Hell, guys I know who have no problem getting laid will gleefully jump on someone they would never be seen with in daylight. I remember having a conversation with my former MBA colleagues, and they were bragging about how many "Charlies" they've done. A Charlie, they said, was a chick over 300 lbs. Anything for a lay, I guess.

So what's my excuse? Am I that far gone that I can't even attract the desperate? Well, no. There have been a few situations in the past few years in which I could have gotten into the sack fairly easily, and those chicks even met my minimum physical requirements (which about 70-80% of chicks in my age group meet), but they were all desperate nutcases. If I'm not willing to take advantage of the desperation of a reasonably good-looking nutty chick, why would I exploit the desperation of any other chick? There just seems to be something unsavory about that. My iron-fisted conscience would not allow me to enjoy myself in such a circumstance if I knew I was getting her drunk on the hope that she'd found someone special, only to bail on her later. Even if the possibility existed that we had different expectations, the Mighty One-Eyed Albino Pennsylvania Pants Python may not manifest itself in the face of such an impure sacrifice.

"So what?" shouts the fat guy, emboldened by my lack of retribution. "You're desperate, so you should take what you can get!"

Easy, my loyal henchman with the harpoon. He will get his.

Yes, it has been 4 1/2 years since I've scored, but that proves one thing: I'm NOT desperate. Let's be real. Anything I can go almost 5 years without is CLEARLY not a necessity. Hell, I've gone that long without a lot of things. I haven't been to the shore in that long, I haven't drunk straight vodka, and I haven't been to Arizona in all that time. I liked those things (well, not the straight vodka so much), but were they necessities? Ummm...NO. If I never go to Arizona again, so what? If I never drink vodka again, will it kill me? If I never score again, will I somehow manage to drag myself through life? At least you don't get saddled with kids just because you go to Arizona.

Yes, I'm sure that some of you are so hopped up on your own hormones that you can't imagine a life without getting laid regularly and are constantly looking for your next fix. Not me, though. I have broken the addiction! That, and I spank off a lot.

And for some closing statements. Remember those aforementioned desperate chicks? I sincerely hope that each and every one of them finds the love of their lives with a perfect male counterpart, and vice versa (or the gender of their choice). Yes, there are people out there in much greater need of love than I, and I just couldn't live with myself if I took some desperate, unattractive chick off the market when some geeky guy needs her more. There, that was almost graceful.

I also have the sneaking suspicion that I am negatively disposed toward really attractive women, because they seem to damn much maintenance and hard to hold onto. Maybe my perceptions have been tainted by past experience, and I'm sure that there are worthwhile hot chicks in the world, but a hot chick has an uphill battle with me. It's kind of like a parabolic curve--

"Like a hot chick would ever try for you!" the fat guy shrieks.

That's it. INTERMISSION! 

Ah, watch that blubber fly!