Im a single guya great single guyand I was passed ...
?Passed Over
Incredibly, Passed Over, you're the second guy this week to send me his photograph. Presumably, I'm supposed to look at these photos (which I have mercifully refrained from running alongside this column) and pass some sort of judgment on you. You don't even know me, yet you care whether or not I think you're hot? Don't you think that's kind of mental?
Furthermore, if you're going to clutter up my inbox with sad little snapshots, I want nudity. I don't want to see some mope in Brooks Brothers businesswear, skulking about in front of his cubicle (no matter how customized with Simpsons memorabilia and Star Trek action figures said cubicle might be); I want full-frontal. Or better yet, show some gumption and "borrow" a pair of your mom's panties and pose like the little girl you know you wish you were. If that's too fey, summon your inner Robert Mapplethorpe, clamp some clothespins on those nipples and jam a riding crop up your pooper. Let's use our imaginations here.
Because really, isn't inappropriate nudity and hardcore homemade porn the entire point of digital photography? No more snickering Nosy Nancys at the Duane Reade photo counter. No more negatives to burn. Digi-pics mean you're free to take photos of yourself experimenting with autoeroticism that you can then email to an advice columnist who may or may not proceed to forward them on to everyone in her address book. (Except her dad. He doesn't need to see that.)
To get back to what I suppose was the point of your letter, you didn't get dumped because you're a decent guy. (FYI, you don't get a gold star for merely being "decent" either.) You got dumped because?as I've said many times before?dating is an exercise in humiliation. You got humiliated by her, she got humiliated by him, he's going to get humiliated by someone else. Sure, you can go off and join the French Foreign Legion if you'd like, but chances are you'll just get shitcanned by some Galloise-huffing hooker called Babette if you do.
I'm guessing you get this request all the time, but are there any pictures of you available on the internet? Nude or sexy pics are always preferred, but any would be interesting. Since you probably won't comply with this request, could you at least provide us with a physical description of yourself, including your measurements? I have a hard time reading your column without imagining what you look like and fantasizing about it.
?Not Alone
You are correct. I do get this request quite often. And yes, I realize that most writers have websites featuring nude and/or sexy photographs of themselves (see www.normanmailer.com, www.wendywasserstein.com, etc.), but I don't. Yet. Again, yes, I realize that in light of the above rant on the inherent rightness of naked snaps, this may sound a tad hypocritical, but you can be sure that once I finish my HTML class, and www.dategirl.net is up and running, it will be peppered with images so raw it'll make your eyes bleed. Because I, for one, understand what an integral part of reading imagining what the writer looks like is. Conjuring these images is one reason it takes me three bloody hours to read the Times each day?What was David E. Sanger wearing when he wrote that piece on Kerry's condemnation of Bush's Haitian policy? Was he touching his johnson as he wrote that lede? And Fred A. Bernstein, who penned that hard-hitting piece on collegiate trannies in last Sunday's style section?Do you think he experimented with cross-dressing to capture that transgender flavah? I like to think so.
So then, of course, a girl gets to fantasizing. From there it's a short leap onto masturbation and pretty soon you find yourself being escorted off the L train and being thrown in the pokey for lewd and lascivious behavior.
But that's just me. Let's say you're capable of keeping your hands to yourself. So let's see, what do I look like? Remember that porn star Seka? Yeah, erm, okay, not her. Pam Anderson? Not her either? It's difficult to find words that adequately depict the beauty that is the Girl of Date. As for measurements?well, normally I'd be glad to, except that me and 10 of my hottest panty-clad girlfriends just had a nearly naked jelly fight, so I'm all slippery.
Write [dategirl@nypress.com](mailto:dategirl@nypress.com) or Dategirl, c/o New York Press, 333 7th Ave., 14th fl., New York, NY 10001.