By contributing writer A. B. Fritz

Boys. Males. Guys. Men. They say we women are confusing, impossible to understand. I say they are just too dense to pick up on anything besides a neon sign with a blinking arrow pointing in the right direction. Okay I suppose I should let everyone know before I go any further that I am not a feminazi, penis-hater or part of any other radical feminist group. I'm simply a straight, college co-ed who's just slightly irritated by the opposite sex (note: sarcasm indicated by italics). This is nothing new, not for me or anyone else. On to the storyline.

I was recently introduced to the idea of “deals” by someone we will simply call Bob.* For those of you who haven't met this male member of the species who opened my eyes to this concept, you aren't missing out. And you're probably better off for not knowing him.

The deal is composed of two parts:

1. Physical satisfaction is the goal…supposedly for both members of the deal.

2. There are specific rules concerning the fulfillment of physical satisfaction as follows:

A. Any information concerning any aspect of said deal is to stay between participants of the deal and not to be disclosed to any other person not previously approved for clearance.

B. Said deal is a one-time occurrence unless otherwise specified, or unless a new Deal contract is completed and approved by all participating members of said deal.

C. No strings are to be attached to any participant before, during or after said deal occurs or before, during or after multiple occurrences of the deal. This does not include bondage if all participants are consenting.


Sorry buddy, that's the old deal.

Now I don't know about you, but after signing the waivers, release forms and liability forms required in part 2, I'm not much in the mood to do part 1. Beyond that, part 1 was a waste of time. I could have better spent my time and effort painting my toenails and watching Jerry Springer while binging on pretzels and Diet A&W Rootbeer. Notice how “supposedly” was highlighted…yes there is a reason. At least by painting my toenails I find some pleasure in final result. Needless to say, even if the contract for the “deal” wasn't a turn off, I can honestly say that a repeat occurrence would be about as worthwhile as walking up to a cop, underage and drunk, asking if he has a piece of gum. Okay so we've all had something like this, or at least had it offered. Whether you take the person up on the deal (or have offered it yourself) is at your discretion.

But there is more…still with me? Since the first, and only, occurrence of this deal with Bob, I have since moved on. I have been lucky enough to find a guy, who is not as dense as the majority I have meet (let's call him Gary*). If nothing else, Gary and I are friends and working on the benefits half—maybe more but I don't want to jump the gun. Right now we'll just leave it at the fact that I'm enjoying whatever it is I am doing with Gary. I am still friendly with Bob who I partook in the “deal” with, but it has been nothing more since then.

Just recently I was propositioned by Bob for another “deal.” I politely refused the offer, citing my involvement with Gary and not having defined the specifics of my relationship with him yet. At this point I was told that I was a hypocrite because I “talk big but don't come through.” Now correct me if I'm wrong, but did I not ALREADY “come through” once for Bob? God forbid I might want to pursue something a little more involved with someone who, on most accounts, seems to like and appreciate me for more than my body. In response, Bob proceeded to tell me that, because nobody will know about an occurrence of the deal, that Gary wouldn't have to know either. I pray to whatever higher being there might be that Bob will never be in charge of a group of people and their welfare.

So I told him I would know about the deal, and that's enough for me to feel too guilty to even enjoy it. I'm not the type of person to do anything physical with more than one person at a time. I don't care if its just that I'm having deals with a new person, I'm still not going to have another one at the same time. Apparently this makes me a schizophrenic girl who's searching for a husband? Odd, last I knew schizophrenia didn't really seem to be the popular opinion about my sanity but maybe I should get that checked out. As far as a husband? HAHAHA…IF I ever get married it's going to be in my late 20's or 30's. Added to that, I love how Bob presumes to tell me that he knows me better than I know myself. I'd be pleasantly surprised if he even knew my last name.

Moral of the story: Is there one? Maybe not, but for you guys looking for “deals,” booty-calls, friends with benefits or fuck buddies…don't hate on a girl because she turns you down for someone who treats her as more than just a cheap (hell, even a free) whore.

* Names have been changed, because even though Bob deserves any negative attention he might otherwise receive, I'm not that cruel. Besides, Gary doesn't need or want the publicity.

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