I’m sure that most of this page will be filled with the usual tripe about sex, in that you’ll see a few brutally honest diatribes that we could stand not knowing about in regards to pornography and masturbatory addictions from the guys, a few “What’s the big deal” mentions from the ladies, and the overall conformance to the notion that sex is overrated.
And since I’d like to break from the stereotypical tyranny, I’d like to offer you an occasion where sex is definitely overrated, and this brutal honesty brings with it a whole new realm of mental disturbance and further reason to hate the human race.
Enter an individual who goes by the moniker “Davecat.” Davecat describes his girlfriend as a “teddy-bear with benefits”, and likes “having her in bed beside me, holding her, cuddling her.” But unfortunately, he believes his “girlfriend” is a suffering manic-depressive due to her always-on perky nature, as well as her nihilism and narcolepsy.
She never argues or cries, has a warm, soft smile, and is an excellent listener. In many respects, she’d be a wonderful woman, if she actually were one.
An article at http://www.salon.com/mwt/feature/2005/10/11/real_dolls/ reports in horrid detail on a new kink ushered into this world by the site http://www.realdoll.com. This site sells ultra-realistic, custom-made high-end blow-up dolls. Before you pull out Mommy and Daddy’s credit cards, however, these will run you $6,500 a pop, plus shipping (and I doubt University mailing would be pleased delivering these to the dorms).
I try not to judge, and I’m sure for your average male with way to much extra money on their hands, these are a fine addition to a rather eclectic mix of masturbatory aids, but for the love of what little civilization we have left, this article goes way too far in describing some of the more depressingly neurotic Real Doll owners.
Davecat, and his tongue-in-cheek (pun not intended) girlfriend Sidore (Real Doll owner and inanimate friend with benefits, respectively) is one of a depressingly large number of “iDollators”, as they call themselves. These winners have invested in a business venture, blown their financial wad all over it (pun fully intended), and are now taking themselves far too seriously.
Davecat first noticed his attraction to the inorganic when he was caught by his mother in a department store trying out pick-up lines on a mannequin.
I wish, I wish, I wish I were making this up.
Okay, to hell with not judging. In fact, I think it’s time to judge like Dredd. But before I do that, I’m going to take a break from dry-heaving so I can scrub my now defiled soul with bleach.
Yes, I know the rigors of a real relationship are mind-bogglingly dense and wreak havoc on the average human heart. But some of these people just seem sick, both in the disgusting and ill senses of the word. Maybe they are or maybe they’re not, but to forego the challenge, the learning experience, and become a hermit content to love a thing, a collection of parts with no soul or choices of its own, that cannot possibly love you back?
Now that I think about it, maybe it’s a good thing that these people aren’t breeding.
And because of our societies’ apparent manifest destiny in which some people would rather have sex with trumped-up silly putty, here’s to the end of the world as we know it. Honestly? I’m not sure if I’ll miss it.
Originally printed in the Daily O’Collegian, November 15th, 2005
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