DEAR E. JEAN: I'm a twenty-one-year-old virgin fishing for a sugar daddy who'll launch me into a life of caviar and beautiful clothes. I've recently heard about the American grad student auctioning off her virginity. She's currently considering bids up to $3.7 million. I want to attempt the same. It would take care of my college loans, and I could live on the interest and be free to develop my career and talents.
The breaking of the hymen is reportedly painful and disappointing anyway. Why should I waste my purity on a "meaningful" college boyfriend or a saggy sugar daddy when I can receive a pot of gold all in one go? How would I go about notifying these wealthy barons without attracting attention? Would it be appropriate to contact this virgin-almost-millionairess and persuade her to spare me a few bidders? Or should I hire the traditional Madame?----The Hungry Virgin
HUNGRY, MY SMARTY PANTS: Auntie Eeee thinks affectionately of your hymen and wishes the best for it; but it's unfashionable these days to snatch another young lady's bidders. (Hymen-auctioning is as old as ... well, men invented virginity and they've been paying for it ever since.)
So please email Dennis Hof at Dennis@bunnyranch.com. He told me on the phone he'd be delighted to put your maidenhead on the block and that "bids could start around $50,000." Mr. Hof's the hawker of the nubile grad student you mentioned, Miss Natalie "Deflower-Me-for-Three-Million" Dylan. "She got a book deal, a movie deal, and now we're working on a new TV show," said Mr. Hof, excitedly. He was in the midst of shooting an episode of Celebrity Rehab featuring my good friend Heidi Fleiss. (You know, of course, that Mr. Hof is the Akira Kurosawa of passion. His current show runs on HBO and is called Cathouse.)
"Oh! What's your new show called?" I asked him.
"America's Next Top Virgin," said Mr. Hof.
"So definitely have [Miss Hungry Virgin] email me and anyone else who's interested!" Mr. Hof is the proprietor of the Moonlite Bunny Ranch, the legal brothel in Mound House, Nevada. "One last thing," I said, "Before I hang up: How much money did Miss Dylan and her vagina actually pull in?"
"Unfortunately," said Mr. Hof, "the highest bidder at three point seven million dollars was an Australian businessman, and he reconciled with his wife. Miss Dylan offered to return the $250,000 deposit. In fact, I called him and said 'we're returning it;' but he said: 'No, give it to the girl.' So she got a quarter of a million dollars and bids are starting again!"
I can't tell you how heartened I am to hear men are still such imbeciles. Only a competitive muttonhead would ply a semi-good-looking grad student with bags of greenbacks to obtain what 99.9% of us would give lovingly away.
My friend, Tracy Quan, never backward when it comes to marketing anything between her eyebrows and kneecaps, and the author of the deliciously witty Diary of a Manhattan Call Girl, was appalled -- shocked! -- to hear your idea. "She's trying to sell something," said Tracy, "which should never be sold. I treasure my memories of my first lover. To be a good business woman, you need good romantic experience."
Invent an engine which runs on water fuel, create a cellulite cream that works, there are better ways to make a fortune in this world -- without turning yourself into an asshole. So it's up to you, Miss Hungry. It's your hymen: Keep it, lend it, groom it, or donate it to a poor woman. But in Auntie Eeee's opinion, only a flimflamming trollop would sell it.
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