Volume 2, Issue 17 August 3 - August 16, 2000

Although there is no medical evidence to prove it, I believe that any woman in her sexual prime who goes without sex for over six months is a virgin again. I know that I would never go without chocolate for that long, so what the hell was I thinking not having any sexual experiences since Christmas? I'll give you a quick preview of what I was thinking.....

Wow, this super deluxe dildo feels amazingly real and yet I can put it away when I don't want to see it.

More than a few sexually active friends have commented...

How can you give sex and relationship advice when you never have either of them?

And to them I reply...

Only someone who isn't wrapped up in the blindness and neurosis of it all can truly see things objectively and therefore be qualified to give damn good advice whether or not anyone listens. Usually the above mentioned don't listen.

And just when I thought I was going to stay in that asexual, objective, self-righteous space, I went to Dallas. Now that my column is syndicated in other cities, some fine Texan folks saw it and contacted me to be the hostess of a charity event for The American Cancer Society. If that wasn't good enough, I then found out that the event was a bachelor auction. That's right, 30 successful, sexy and single men to be sold to the highest bidder.

I exited the airplane to find a swank limo driver holding a sign with my name. Nice reception. As I waited for my huge, over-stuffed suitcase I saw several gorgeous men. The temptation to approach them reminded me of the same temptation that people have to play slots in the Vegas airport. Even though there are many more games and slots to play all weekend, there's just something about that instant gratification of seeing some the second you arrive.

I was put up at a huge suite in the Magnolia Hotel downtown. Moments later I was whisked off to meet Melissa, the sassy and cute event coordinator. She took me to a posh boutique called Liz Morgan to pick out my wardrobe for the event and then to the Grand Spa for a complementary massage. Just when I thought I had been spoiled enough, the limo driver took us to an amazing restaurant called Nick and Sams with a $200 allowance and the hottest waiter I have ever seen. Of course $150 went to the wine and the rest to salad and dessert. I ordered creme brulée and a waiter for later. I just couldn't help myself, he was so gorgeous.

Since I cannot mention his name, and he loved being called Daddy, we will call him that. So, Daddy met me at a fun club later and kept me swimming in champagne. We talked for hours and it was nice to see that he wasn't of the typical Dallas mentality of money, cars and status. I took him with me in the limo where Melissa photographed us kissing. He was a perfect kisser and an even better masseuse, which just happens to be a prerequisite of mine.

Back at the hotel with Daddy in the round bathtub, I was already starting to feel my sexual objectivity slip, or was that something else? All I know is he was just what this born-again virgin needed. Because I knew my friends would be shocked at the fact I was entering the realm of the sexually active, I took plenty of photos to prove it. Daddy didn't mind.

The next day was the big event and I went through all the preparations with a shiny new glow. The auction took place at a fancy restaurant where the ladies lined up in front and the bachelors strutted one at a time, while I announced their vitals. Each one was packaged with fabulous donations from restaurants, limo companies, spas and bars. It was so fun to ask them, one by one, what kind of package they had.

One of the bachelors was the editor of The Link, a publication out there that carries my column and he was, by far, the hottest one. Unfortunately, he had a date with him. Why would anyone bring a date to an event where they are to be auctioned off? On the brighter side, all the hunks raised a healthy amount for The Cancer Society and it was so amazing to see all these businesses come together for such a good cause. I immediately wondered why nobody in Denver has pulled something like this off. And then I realized that if Denver did organize such a thing, they would probably have an anchor woman or socialite host it, not a sex advice columnist. Suddenly, I had a new appreciation for this hot, sweaty, and flat corporate land called Dallas.

The rest of the weekend was all about relaxing. More morning massages at The Grand Spa and late night ones from Daddy. What he lacked in formal training, he made up for in creativity. He found areas to stimulate that I am absolutely certain they don't teach in massage school. Who was I to give technical corrections?

Now that I have returned, I realize that I haven't really thought about Daddy much. I have thought a lot about the biggest law of fate. The law of feast and famine. Although I had suffered a long famine, I suspect that Daddy was the beginning of a new feast period. So, if my advice over the next few months has a slight flavor of creme brulée, blame it on fate.