Sometimes it seems like the only thing my girlfriends ever do is bitch about how they’re not appreciated by men at Wesleyan—they just moan on and on about empowerment and respect to the point that I am moved to vomit. I, on the other hand, for the past three years have been searching in vain for a special someone at Wesleyan to talk down to me, silence me during sex, and idealize my anorexic body; a companion to objectify me and use me as a tool for sex as we go through life together. Despite my clear vision of a man who will treat me the way I want to be treated, I seem to fall over and over again into egalitarian relationships, which have all ended tragically because my partners all treated me as an independent human being.
I need a real man: someone who can see me for what I really am, a walking sex organ. Unlike my girlfriends, I see my honorable duty in the cosmos as one of satisfying the sexual needs of men and pumping out the next generation of pot-smoking, masturbating, video-gaming men and servile, vacant, pussy-farting women. Until I came across Dan Crossley’s personal ad in the Ampersand (“Lazy Stoner 21M seeks Young F Who Enjoys Sex, Video Games” in the Tuesday, May 1st edition of the Argus) I was about to give up hope that I would ever accomplish my only goal at college, which is, of course, to find a life partner.
Dan Crossley, if you see fit to select me (see fig. a, naked body shot) out of your undoubtedly large pool of qualified applicants, I am confident that you will fully utilize all of my versatile capabilities, as I look forward to hand-feeding you elementary-school snacks and banging you once you’ve exhausted yourself on violent video games. Dan, you seem like Mr. Right, but what’s with this puerile obsession with Mario Kart and Soulcalibur? I need a real man, and real men play Halo!
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