Dear Joe...

We've all said it. Usually after a particularly hard day at work. We sit back with our friends, nice bottle of Reisling, take-out sushi spread out all over our Ikea coffee table, worn out college sweatshirts, memories of days past...and we say "Damn. I just need a sugar daddy. Just stay at home, raise some kids, shop in Nordstroms at noon (before the working womans rush at 6pm) BMW X-5..the whole package." And we all laugh. Because we're strong independent women etc etc etc. But for a moment..lets explore the idea. Of what it'd REALLY be like to date your friends grandpa. I. Sex Pros: Viagra. Wonder drug. Gauranteed long lasting sex, without the extended foreplay. Without the "I'm sorry baby." Without the "oops." Without the "I'll be ready again in 10 minutes." Cons: Balls. Old saggy wrinkly balls. And I've never actually seen Old Man Balls, but I'm not a big balls fan in general. And I can only imagine they get ugli...

I recently found myself in a very strange state of mind. I, yes the great cynical I, was heartbroken. This was quite a new emotion for me. As I hadn’t actually ever been "dumped." I suppose 26 years could be considered a good run. So anyhow, I needed advice. It was my third day wearing the same ripped up hoodie, and faded black leggings. I’d run out of shampoo, and my hair was a greasy, stringy cigarette flavored rats nest. But such trivial things didn’t matter to me anymore. I needed help. So I went to the bookstore...and scoured the internet. I was sure that some wise person before me had written a "self-help" book. And that I would be saved. However all I found were the same books, with the same advice, by fat women with huge bleach blonde hair, sprayed into some overly-processed 1986 style with, what must have been, the last bottle of Aqua Net to be found on Earth. None of these women looked like they’d even been fucked in the past decade. I was drunk, scaring ...