THIS HAPPENED TO LISA
Promiscuity and Me: A Tragedy in Three Acts
Chasing tail and spitting game with a dork
Mating mystifies me, both as a spectator and a competitor.
That countless men and women throughout millennia have managed not only to perpetuate the population, but to inflate it to self-destructive proportions makes about as much sense to me as a vegan hot dog.
If survival of species had ever depended upon my ability to convince a partner to procreate with me, 10,000 monkeys would have written this piece.
Of course, others have their own spin on this most primal human quest. In his post titled ‘About Me — Patrick Metzger,’ the author, and one of my Medium idols, declares:
I regret not being more promiscuous when I was young.
Well, boo hoo, brother. When I was young, I didn’t even know being promiscuous was a thing, so being more promiscuous wasn’t any more an option for me than being more near sighted.
Nor did I possess what typically catches a lady’s eye: good looks, charm, high earning potential. Well, any potential for that matter. So trying to peddle more of what no one was buying anyway was unlikely to cure my chronic celibacy.
