I am sexy
The last month or so, women have been telling your hero (that’s me) that he is sexy and handsome. Um, when in the hell did this sexy aura happen?
In high school, I really had, and to this day still have, a bad self-image. I was always envious of other people who looked in a mirror and said “I am damn good looking.” Friggin’ hated those people, partially because they were vain and partially because I wanted to be just as vain as they were. It seemed cool at 16 years old, but that sentiment changed
When I was 22, I still didn’t think much of myself and yet women loved my company. I thought they were just being friendly and for the most part that was probably true. However, there was this time I was visiting my friend Dan at his apartment. His roommate and his girlfriend were home from a day at the beach. So we are all talking and, for one reason or another Dan and his roommate ordered a six-hour block of Spice Network (pay per-view soft corn pornography) and I somehow got to talking to the guy’s girlfriend.
She was around 5’2” very small frame, tanned, bleach blonde hair (everyone wanted to look like Pamela Anderson in the ’90s) and I remember she had a nice rack that complemented her slender frame. I don’t remember the girl’s name, let’s just call her Pam.
So, Pam and I were in another section of the apartment, and she didn’t understand why Dan and her boyfriend had to watch porn with each other. I joked that they probably wanted to jerk each other off. After about 10 minutes of talking to her and asking her sincerely why she was upset, something unexpected happened. She told me that I was nice, funny, sweet, cute, and sexy. I remembered that I was slightly confused and said, “I guess, I have no idea.” She told me, “Come here.” She took my hand and led me into her bedroom, took her bikini top off, and we started to make out. How I got out of that room undetected and alive is a complete mystery. Well, I always wanted to be a ninja when I was a boy — perhaps I have latent and dormant ninja skills. Pardon my tautology.
At that point in my life, I should’ve felt that sexiness inside. Instead, I stuck it in a drawer and didn’t really date too much. I went out on dinner dates on occasion, but I found most women boring (not anyone who reads this column, obviously). Plenty of women with nice boobs, but most of the time they had nothing interesting to say. All they really wanted to tell me was that their ex-boyfriend or baby daddy was a fucking asshole. Huge turn off, yet, the real lesson that should’ve been learned is that they were simply attracted to me and I am attractive. Yet, I thought humility by way of self-depreciation was a necessary price to pay for upkeep on my humility. Another excellent residual of my once Catholic worldview — sin, shame, and don’t think well of yourself.
Recently in my life, the female attention has come in droves. I’m not saying this to bring attention to myself or to make me into some sort of victim — I am an excellent flirt and my serpent ‘s tongue is quite agile. I talk more shit than Jessie Jackson. I can make you feel better than any piece of chocolate. I am witty, smart, and attentive. And I will ruin you for other men.
Gay men have said I was hot (thank you boys). Lesbians adore me. And the straight women, I’m pretty sure they take their vibrators to the shop and install a new “Matt speed” on it. If you want to know what Matt speed is, just imagine me eating combos, farting, and channel surfing to find a baseball game. I say that, and it is exactly the speed they like and wish their boyfriends or husbands could be.
Tom Greene said it best in “Freddy Got Fingered”: I am a sexy boy! Ding dong!