-Why I need a girlfriend-

I've always considered myself an independent sort, some might even use the term "cuss" with independent, but those who know me well know I simply prefer freedom over any sort of ongoing commitment-be it bill paying, the monthly rent, or women who expect me to call them at designated times during the week. Such obligations are major turnoffs to me.

Still, I am a man of blood and urges, and because of that women must and will remain a constant in my life. For me to give up women would be the same as giving up water-I would dry up and die within days. I must say I envy those Tibetan monks and Castro Street gents who are able to survive without even the scent of women for long periods at a time. Their inner fortitude is something we should all admire.

But what can we learn from these gentlemen? In all honesty, not much. These men should be considered more like professional athletes; even if they share their secrets with us what good will it do? Unless one possesses their innate abilities to begin with, no amount of knowledge received from them can help one turn a blind eye toward a bare midriff if one's sense of sight is already oriented in that direction.

I know firsthand the futility of trying and I've read reams of stuff on the subject. I've studied Zen, Zoroastrianism, Confucius, Yoga, The Bible, even books on how to change one's sexuality-nothing has worked!

Sometimes I wonder how much I might have already accomplished in life if only my brain had not been constantly bombarded by thoughts and fantasies of the opposite sex. When I was young (before the thoughts grew rampant) I remember being interested in how cells divided and mutated. I actually had thoughts of one day finding a cure for cancer. Those thoughts are long gone.

I used to believe old age would at last set me free from this constant burden, but aging relatives I have discussed this with have not infused me with any hope. My grandfather on my dad's side of the family says he still looks at women whenever the chance arises, while the one on my saintly mother's side is considering Lasik surgery "...and not for reading books, boy, wink wink."

However, it was my aging great-uncle who offered me the most discouraging news. He said he still looked at comely women but was not sure why since "...nothing really happens down there anymore. Oh, there's an urge-but not much else. It's like being an amputee and having an itch on your leg, but when you go to scratch it, there's nothing there to scratch."

I almost vomited when I heard that one. Is this my destiny then, to end up with the endless itch that cannot be scratched? Will I be nothing more than an elderly lech in my golden days? Ah, the horror, the horror.

Learn more about this author, Michael Avila.
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