Citizen of the Month

the writing and photography of Neil Kramer

Tag: email

The Sexy Email Exchange

Hi, this is Neil’s Talking Penis.  Remember when I used to post ALL the time on “Citizen of the Month?”  You haven’t heard from me in quite a while.   Why?   Well, frankly, there has been nothing to report.  Unlike Neilochka, who likes to hear himself talk, I only speak when I have something to say.

Another reason is that Neilochka has been infringing on my free speech.  He hated all the attention I got back in the good ol’ blogging days, when he was mostly known as “the guy who wrote the Talking Penis blog.”  Now he wants to be more “sophisticated,” like the classy bloggers who get book deals.  He doesn’t realize that the only freakin’ book deal that he’s ever gonna get is a book about ME!

Neurotic Jewish guy from New York — BORING! Seen it, done it, read it — snore!   But — Opinionated hard-on with a knowledge of the Kama Sutra, fine wines, and 80’s music? Now that is a best-seller!

Today, I have returned to the Blogosphere to complain about Neilochka.  He does not deserve to have me.  It is like serving the finest steak to an anorexic vegetarian.  It is like buying shoes for someone with no legs.  It is like writing a comment on Dooce’s blog, expecting one in return.

So, sit back, grab a Diet Coke, and let me tell my tale of how pathetic Neilochka can be:

Last week, Neilochka received an email from a nice, very attractive, intelligent, single girl in her thirties who lived in another part of the country.  She was a blogger who he had only read infrequently.  She knew about his frustrations living away from Sophia.  She also had her own frustrations.  She had recently broken up with her boyfriend.  In a polite manner, she suggested a remedy —

“…how would you like to send “sexy” emails to each other? Believe me, I have never done this before. I hope you are not offended. It would be fine if you said no. I just thought it would both do us some good… and it might be fun.”

Neilochka stared at the monitor for a long, long time.  He had never received an email like this, other than spam trying to sell him Viagra.  Neilochka has emailed and IM-ed with many female bloggers, but usually it about them complaining about their boyfriends and husbands, not wanting virtual sex talk.

Neilochka went to this girl’s blog and read a few posts. She seemed totally normal.

I screamed to Neilochka from inside his pants.

“Do it! Do it! For god’s sake, do it!  It is better than me sitting around her doing nothing but playing Sudoko with myself!”

Neilochka, as expected from a man who never takes action without mulling over it for ever, took forever to take a baby step.  He emailed the girl back.

“Hi, there!  Thanks for the email.  I am very flattered.  And it is very brave of you to be so assertive, especially for a woman.  I think it is really cool…”

And then he blabbed on some more, ass-kissing her and comparing her to what he loved so much about Sophia, exactly the wrong thing to be saying to a horny babe who obviously wants some sex talk.

She emailed back, saying that she loved his blog.  That was very clever on her part, as every guy loves to have his ego stroked.

But Neilochka, still with his head in his ass, emailed back, saying that he’s not sure he is the “right person to be doing this with.”

“I mean even though I’m separated, I’m still technically married, even though I am living apart, but I still…oh, I don’t know…”

After I bit Neilochka on the leg, he quickly changed his mind —

“Why not — let’s give it a shot!”

I did a little happy dance in his pants.

Now from my experience, women like a confident man in the bedroom.  It is like ballroom dancing — there are times where the man should lead.  Every romance novel has a man carrying his woman into the bedroom, sometimes even against her will.

“You brute!”

But then he kisses her, and she changes her mind, as quickly as Joe Lieberman changes political parties.

“Take me now, you hunk of manhood!”

Sadly, Neilochka is not that kind of man.  Ask Sophia.  Wait, forget that. Do NOT ask her.

Neilochka worries too much.  About making everyone happy.  If he was smart he would just worry about satisfying one person — me!

So, instead of Neilochka writing back —

“I am so hot thinking about you, I can’t wait any longer.  I want you.  I am ripping open your blouse – I don’t care how much it cost at Nordstrom — my hands NEED to explore your every curve…”

He wrote back a lame, flaccid message —

“So, what do we do now? Are there some… like… rules?”

You ever hear a Penis sigh like Charlie Brown.  Good Grief.

Neilochka waited for the return email.  She finally wrote back:

“Rules? Well, I am reading over the rulebook now, peering over the top of the book with my librarian glasses.”

Neilochka was impressed.  She used the word “peering” which is a cool word.  And he always had a thing for those sexy librarian types, who pull down their hair.  Neilochka decided he should show the girl that they were relating well —

“We have a lot in common! I wear glasses too!”

WTF?! A minute later, there was an email response.  The mood had changed.

“I just wanted to tell you, so you’re not disappointed later, but I really don’t wear glasses.”

Neilochka appreciated her honesty.

“That’s OK.  You have virtual glasses!  Cheaper that way.  Glasses are so expensive nowadays. Guess how much my glasses cost?”

Her response —

“$300?”

Neilochka’s response — (It was turning into a game show)

“No, almost $600. I have astigmatism so I had to get these superlight lenses from Germany.”

Neilochka and the girl exchanged a few more emails about the eyeglasses.

I was going crazy.

“Forget the optometry talk!  Talk about her tits.  Say you want to stick your face in her p***y!  She wants to get virtually f**ked, not talk about Lenscrafters!”

I tried to remind Neilochka to keep his eye on the prize, and not to let this unique opportunity fall off a loser’s cliff.

And then, IT HAPPENED.

It was 6PM. Neilochka’s mother called from the kitchen.

“Neil? You want dinner?”

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, at this point Neilochka sent this hot and horny girl the ultimate sex-killing email — a statement that should be written on his tombstone as a warning to future generations of men —

“My mother is calling me for dinner. Gotta go!”

“OK. Later!”

Three days passed until Neilochka remembered about the emails.  Three days!  Let me just repeat it to you to show you how pathetic this is — Some intelligent, hot babe WANTS to send horny emails back and forth with a man — even initiates it — and praises his lame-ass blog — and she tells him that HE TURNS HER ON — and he actually FORGETS about it for three days?!

You would think after this utter disaster that Neilochka would say “I’m sorry” TO ME?!  But no!

He thinks about the girl.

“Should I apologize to her?” he asks himself.  “It wasn’t that I wasn’t attracted to her.  Well, actually that WAS the problem.  I wasn’t really attracted to some person I hardly know. Maybe if we IM-ed for a couple of months –”

Oh yeah.  Cool Hand Neilochka.  Maybe if they IM-ed for a couple of months, and then exchanged photos, and then spoke on the phone, and then sent Christmas-Hanukkah cards, and then went to the movies a couple of times, and then watched “Dancing with the Stars” at night, laughing at Susan Lucci, and then kissed under the stars during a fireworks display–

Pathetic.

Yesterday, Neilochka emailed the girl.  They both laughed about the sexy email exchange.  They both thought it was their fault that it was so short-lived.  He did ask if she was wearing a bra, but that was as far as the sex-talk went.  She wasn’t.

And then, of course, Neil asked the most important question of all:

“If I don’t use your name, can I, uh… blog about this?”

Seize the Spam!

seize2.jpg

One of life’s hard lessons is that sometimes, if you don’t act fast enough, you can can miss a big opportunity.   How many times have you said to yourself, "If only I had asked Susan to the prom?"  Or "Had I bought that house ten years ago, I’d be a millionaire by now?"

I’ve always found it hard to make decisions.  I’m a terrible procrastinator, the type of person who waits and waits and waits for inspiration.  But it’s a terrible approach to life.   I miss out on one opportunity after another.

For instance, a few days ago, I received an email for an interesting new internet service:

(ACTUAL EMAIL SPAM)

Find a sexoholic tonight! 

Offering a service that helps people get laid!  Plenty of sexoholics are in your area, wanting to have some fun!

No lame pickup lines… no flowers… no gifts… people here just care about sex 😉

Oh, and in case you’re wondering, around 70% of members already found a partner!

INTERNET ADDRESS

No, despite my having a cold, I’m all for having fun — especially when it doesn’t involve buying flowers.  And I’m always up for meeting some new sexoholics in my neighborhood.  Maybe we can even meet in my local IHOP.   But, I sometimes find it difficult to have "some fun" when I know that there are those who aren’t as fortunate.  Why is it that only 70% of their "members already found a partner?"  What about the other 30%?  Will I really enjoy being with some cute sexoholic if I am constantly thinking about the unlucky 30% back at the IHOP crying their eyes out into their "endless" pots of coffee.  I mean, they’re sexoholics, too.  Why shouldn’t they have a partner?

For days, I went back and forth, debating whether I should join or not.   Friends made fun of my "liberal guilt."   One friend, a Republican attorney, made a very compelling argument:

"Listen, there are always going to be winners and losers in this world.  There are people starving and you still enjoy going out for dinner, right?  Maybe the 30% of the sexoholic members have only themselves to blame.  Maybe they’re not approaching their sexoholism with enough gusto?"

That’s right.  If the roles were reversed, would those sexoholics care about me, sitting in IHOP with my pancakes and not getting laid?  NO WAY!  They’re a bunch of selfish sexoholics.   Maybe one of them might show me a video of the sex afterwards, but that’s like throwing crumbs to a dog.

Another friend, a psychologist, had another take on the situation:

"Are you sure that it is other people that are your real concern?  Maybe your real fear is that YOU would end up being in the 30% without a partner?"

That made a lot of sense to  me.  Imagine joining an internet sexoholics group and being in the 30% that never gets any sex?  How embarrassing!  That would make me feel awful.  My self-esteem would go for a nose dive.  It would bring back memories of high school dances where I would sit on the side with the other gawky guys and and make paper origami sculptures using our braces.   Sigh.

But then I looked at myself in the mirror and came to my own conclusion.

I’m not in high school anymore.  I’m an accomplished adult.  I’m a writer of C-list blog.  I somehow got a beautiful woman to marry me.  I don’t need to be afraid of being in the 30% anymore.  And if I am the 30%, damn it — I’ll knock the dirt off my pants, stand up, and face the world again, looking for a new adventure.  I have no fear.  I’m gonna seize the day!

I was just about to sign up for this service today when I received another email.

(ACTUAL EMAIL SPAM)

Find a sexoholic tonight! 

Offering a service that helps people get laid!  Countless sex-addicts are in your city, wanting to hook up!

No cheezy pickup lines, no flowers, no gifts, people here only want to get laid 😉

Oh, and in case you’re wondering, around 65% of members already found a partner!

INTERNET ADDRESS

65%?!  A few days ago it was 70%!  Does this mean it will be 55% by Friday?  No fucking way am I joining up with the chances of me getting lucky decreasing by the hour.  Why was I so stupid?  Why didn’t I sign up last week!  What was I waiting for?! 

Yes, another lost opportunity.

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