Here's a conversation I had recently, when I bumped into someone on the street. I'll only recount my side of what was said, you'll be able to figure out the rest. It's quite possibly the worst conversation ever.
My friend came to me the other day, distraght. "How do you find a boyfriend?" he asked. "I never get asked out." I questioned the four people he'd had sex with the week before...on three separate occasions. (You do the math.) He insisted all of those interludes were different. That was just sex. Now he is looking for love.
I explained it's a lifestyle choice: You're never going to lose the weight until you stop drinking the Diet Coke. One calorie or not, it's still soda. Put yourself in the right frame of mind. Same thing goes for sex: it may mean nothing to my friend, he may be technically "available," but his soul is not where he needs it to be. It was time for my friend to go on a Love Diet.
1) No more one-night stands.
2) No more sex with people you don't want to sleep over.
3) No more letting people sleep over if you don't want to see them again some other day.
4) No more seeing people again if all you do is have sex again.
"It's not just sex," he said. "I talk to them. I don't want to have sex with a guy who is ignorant. We have to have something in common."
I informed him a critical analysis of America's Got Talent, while entertaining, does not a connection make. My friend disagreed. And with that, I realized we had a lot of work to do.
Just then a lovely young man walked by, a supple specimen with an ass that looked like the Gates of Heaven. He saw my friend, he smiled, and he touched himself in a slightly suggestive and not-at-all-discreet manner. How gauche.
My friend's brow furrowed and became depressing. "But can't I have just one more snack?" pleaded he.
I shook my head. "Today is the first day of the rest of your life," I replied. "As of this moment, you are on a Diet." I pointed at the lovely man, who was now nibbling his own lips. "And that, right there, is a whole lot of Empty Calories."