I saw this intriguing “quiz” titled “What are You Worth in Bed?”

What is your worth?

Normally I ignore these nonsensical quizzes, but who isn’t curious about how much one can get for his sexual services?  During the Eliot Spitzer scandal, there was much talk about the fees paid to his high-priced hooker.   Naturally, many in the blogosphere starting thinking about their own careers.   Would it be more lucrative being a hooker than, for instance,  running an Esty shop selling knitted socks?  Now is your chance to find out.  The quiz has separate questions for both men and women.   Most of the questions in the gigolo-meter are pretty standard for the men — age, height, penis size, but then there are  tricky questions like, “How kinky are you?”  or “What do you like to do after sex — party, spoon, or go to sleep?”

Bad news.  I’m only worth a lousy $918 in bed.  How humiliating.  I’m pretty sure my downfall is this — I’m not dangerous enough.  Women want a sense of danger in their male hooker.  My kinky rating wasn’t very high, and I had to answer “no,” when I was asked if I had any tattoos.  I was actually surprised that there was a question about tattoos.  Would I be worth more in bed if I had a well-placed tattoo?  Do women want a man with a tattoo?

Desperate to up my bed-ability scores, I’ve been thinking about my lack of tattoos all day.

By Jewish law, I’m not supposed to get a tattoo, but many Jews have them anyway.  My main reason for avoiding tattoos all my life is fear.  I used to faint when I received allergy shots.  Uh-oh, by revealing that, I think by worth as a male prostitute just dropped another five bucks.

I actually do find tattoos on a woman as sexy.

Right, men?

But are tattoos as interesting as they used to be?  Tattoos are so common in Los Angeles, that they hardly seem special anymore.  I’m more unique by NOT having a tattoo.

Years ago, tattoos were mostly for sailors and bikers, done by Thai “masseuses”  in seedy port cities too ugly even for the prostitutes.  Tattoos then became hip, and like Wall Street traders moving into the old drug warehouses of the Lower East Side, every upper-middle class white person wanted to be seen as faux- dangerous, at least on weekends.   So, the tattoo became a commodity.

I like tattoos that are visual and colorful.  I hate when the simplicity of body art become pretentious.  Wherever I go to a coffeehouse in Los Angeles, I always bump into someone with a tattoo that requires me to take out my reading glasses.  When did tattoos become so literary?

Is it the influence of celebrities?  (via US Magazine)

Here’s Meagan Fox, star of Transformers, that thought-provoking piece of bot cinema, with a quote from Shakespeare’s King Lear on her left shoulder, “We all laugh at gilded butterflies.”   This is clearly an actress who want to prove that she isn’t just pretty, but a wordsmith — akin to Pamela Anderson putting on a pair of fake librarian glasses to prove that she has an IQ as large as her fake boobs.

Angelina Jolie commemorates the birth of her children with, of course, Roman numerals on her arm.  Do I really have to remember what the roman symbols M and L stand for just to read the dates?!  Why not make it easy for us?

Lindsay Lohan writes “La Bella Vita” on her ass.  For some reason, I don’t believe this is true.

Victroria Posh Beckham, a Kabbalah fanatic, has a Hebrew psalm on her back, translated as “I am my love’s and my love is mine,” which just happens to be the exact same phrase Sophia and I used on the front of our wedding invitations years ago.  Maybe Sophia and I wouldn’t have as many problems today in our marriage if we had just tattooed our wedding vows on our backs instead.

I’ve thought about getting a tattoo for a long.  I’d like for women to see me as a little more dangerous, because I know that while most women want to marry the “nice guy,” they want to f**k the “bad boy” on the kitchen counter.  It’s time to become the bad boy.

This “What Am I Worth in Bed?” quiz has hit me where it hurts — my ego.   I should at least be worth $1000 as a male hooker.  The solution — only a tattoo can help monetize my sex life.

Today, that all changed.  I went down to Venice Beach and got a tattoo of one of my blog posts written directly on my back.

Surprisingly, when I retook the quiz, my worth dropped to $850.