Also, while I’m giving this interview I’m not wearing any pants…I’m sorry. 

That’s fine, because I always ask that…of my prey. 

Oh well, I’m wearing the hood you put on me, it’s got the zipper mouth…and thank you for opening it. 

This is a combo question…what do you like best, the hunt or the catch?  And what’s a typical sex night, the process, the motivation, how does it end, do you walk out, shake hands? 

Yeah, I think it’s funny that you call it the hunt or the catch.  Everybody should know that those are your words…but the hunt is awesome.  The journey is often more fun than the destination.  Don’t get me wrong, I like having sex, you need one to have the other, it’s like what’s more fun, Christmas season or Christmas day?  I love Christmas season, I really really do but of course Christmas season is not possible without Christmas day. So, on one hand, how you resign that out of your mind; I love the hunt, I love talking to people, I love showcasing my wares…I don’t mean that like with nudity, you know, using your personality, talking to people, getting people to respond, people smiling, sort of the little things that go with picking somebody up, and that’s people acknowledging that they’re into you and that’s infectious, I mean, who doesn’t want that?  Especially for me, I’m an attention whore, so it really is a very, very cool kind of feeling but of course it’s irrelevant if you don’t get laid.  It’s not like I can get home, get everybody naked and say okay, I now realize you were definitely going to fuck me so that justifies the last four hours, we’re done here!  You have to have it all.  So I guess I like the hunt more, it lasts considerably longer, sex doesn’t last very long (and that’s not an ‘I need Viagra’ joke). You know, an evening out can be five or six hours, I will fully go on record that I can’t have sex for six hours. I’m sure there’s somebody that can and he’s a better man than I am. 

But I think it does all go together, and I really like that part.  Once again, it has to end; it has to be punctuated with actually having sex, but as far as what it looks like, it looks like all kinds of things.  The internet is very helpful to people that try to get laid, there’s lots of websites dedicated to this, it’s considerably easier to get laid today than it was fifteen years ago when you had to get dressed and go out.  You can pick people up in clubs, you can pick people up in bars, you can pick people up anywhere, and once again, I have rules that sort of keep me safe.  Its funny to say that I have rules, but, I don’t sleep with people I work with, I don’t have sex with people that I’m going to see again, I don’t have casual sex with friends, and all of these are designed cause you don’t want to fuck up your life. I don’t want to lose a friend because we had sex. I don’t want to have a problem at work because a one night stand went awry. But the big thing for me that was true and is true and will always be true is I don’t lie to get laid. Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying that I tell my life story or let them finger print me; I don’t tell people that I love them and I’m looking for a relationship, or that they’re ‘the one’ and things like that just to get laid, which ties into what happens when its over.  The expectations have already been set, my sex partner knew what was going on the entire time there’s no, ‘How do I get her out of my apartment?’ She’s fully prepared to leave. She no more wants to spend the night than I want her to spend the night, you know, I’m sure there’s something somewhere, but by in large, we have sex, we talk, we hang out, and then she goes home or I go home, or we walk out of the bathroom,- depending on where we’re at in my timeline. 

I think that’s important. There’s a lot of…in 2010 we started calling them ‘douchbags…’ these arrogant assholes that just say whatever they want. They’re highly competitive and they’re jerks and I suppose a lot of women are furious when these guys are lying to them but I think it’s pretty easy to spot.  So, in a way I think women know what they are getting into when they go with those guys too. I think even some of that is what we expect to happen after a one night stand instead of what actually happens after a one night stand.  All of my people go home, you know, people go home. That’s it. I do have a, in my phone, a ‘batshit crazy’ list. And those are people in my phone that I had sex with that I absolutely will never have sex with again for any number of reasons; they’re clingy, they’re crazy, they wouldn’t leave, they’re insane, they call too much, tried to have me meet their families, they lied to me (lying is a big one), so I put them on the ‘batshit crazy’ list so that way if they text or call, all that comes up is ‘batshit crazy’ and I don’t know who it is, I don’t know if the ‘batshit crazy’ is Dreama or so in so, it’s just ‘batshit crazy.’ I ignore it, I don’t read it, they’re done, and there are lots of names on the ‘batshit crazy’ list.  It takes a lot to get on the ‘batshit crazy’ list but once you’re on, you never get off…ever.  That’s just human interaction; whether or not we’re having sex is irrelevant.  We’ve all met people we never want to see again, especially if you’re a social person, I’m obviously a pretty big extrovert.  I meet all kinds of people I never want to talk to again so it’s not really all that abnormal I suppose.  During my heyday, when I was having a whole lot of sex, I knew bar owners and strip club owners, I had sex in back rooms and bathrooms and couches and it was really easy to get big big numbers that way because everybody knew why I was there. 

For a while I think I had sex with every stripper that worked there, it was like their initiation.  Which is an awesome thing to set up, it takes some time though.  And again, it means everyday after work I’m at a strip club until I fall asleep.  I owned my own business so it was easy to get around the stuff.  But I had a personal assistant who would try to find me the next morning at 8 o’clock and drag me out of whatever hole I had fell asleep into.  And people are like, ‘Oh, there it is, the sex addiction,’ but yeah, I think it might have been untreated bipolar disorder and maybe just a hint of drug use and alcoholism. I think the sex was probably irrelevant, I think I would have been in just as much trouble with those three but again people always want to tie it back to the sex, like; ‘Oh you didn’t know where you were when you woke up?’  Yeah, well, I had an untreated mental illness… 'Oh that’s probably not it.’  I drank a lot.  ‘Well…’ And I had sex the night before.  ‘That’s the problem!’  Wait a minute! What? How do you figure, it was the least impacting thing I did back then. Of all the things I did it was probably the healthiest.  But that’s how people think. And I also want to go on record that Tiger Woods - not a sex addict; just an asshole.