Spare the Rod, Spoil the Girl

We've all been there, haven't we?

We are tall, red haired willowy sexpots and we have a 'boyfriend' who we have given a key to who lets himself in whenever he likes and has a permanent erection and is constantly boring it into our back and demanding sex.

Well, what happens is, we say enough is enough, that we have had enough of permanently erect men pestering us and we want, what else, an impotent man.

This is the premise of the rather tedious bestseller In Search of An Impotent Man by Gaby Hauptmann

At this point, the red haired temptress, Carmen, puts an ad in her local paper:

Wanted: An Impotent Man to Have Fun With. Limp dick essential.

What happens is she has dozens of men writing to her, all of them so pleased that some woman wants them, and that they no longer have to carry their drooping penis around with shame.

They also seem to turn up without ever having met her at her house carrying boxes of caviar, bunches of roses, long poems, paintings they've worked on for hours and invitations to visit their country chateaus.

To which I say, there is a very fine line between romance and stalking.

The bottom line is all the men in this book seem to compensate for their impotence by being terribly romantic in a way which no man is outside of a Mills and Boon novel.

Now, I remember about fifteen years ago, when I put an ad in the paper for a Lonely Heart. I remember getting several letters from men who did not seem particularly promising including:

1. Letter including several pictures of a very expensive red sports car. Had a date with the guy, a pug ugly balding barrister who was stinking rich and sexually repugnant. No.

2. A man wearing tight cycling shorts (yuck yuck yuck) standing beside some $2000 dollar racing bike. No.

3. A man who was quite funny but clearly unhinged who wrote me a very long letter with a fountain pen so that the letter was in ye olde english script about how he was a frog who lived in a castle who was pining for a princess. No.

4. A man who wrote a six page letter full of specifications he was looking for in a woman including long hair, an enjoyment of spanking during sex, long walks on beaches and an interest in Christian Rock music. No.

5. A squash nut who wanted to play nude squash. "The grounds are totally secluded," he wrote. "We will have total privacy. You have not known exhilaration until you have played squash naked.” Something told me going to a secluded house to play naked squash would end up with myself in a body bag. Also, think of the bruising from all that naked squash! No no no.

In short none of the men I caught in my Lonely Hearts net seemed remotely attractive. It all seems so clear in retrospect that I should have specified what I needed: an impotent man.

Anyway, I am half way through this book and I find myself getting a bit impatient. I guess the heroine is going to realize that oh yeah, actually er, sorry but she's just realized that she does want a good seeing to after all.

Yes, I do know you can have sex without using an erect phallus, but I have to be honest, how can you really feel desired if a man isn't getting an erection over you? I don't think I could even have sex with someone on Viagra because he would be erectionally enhanced.

Ladies, what do you think? Would it be a relief for you not to be asked for sex at inopportune moments like when you are changing the cat's litter box? Would you welcome an impotent man into your bed? Or tell him to take his useless appendage elsewhere?

Men, have you ever wished you were impotent and thus not ruled by the rod of steel to constantly want to put said rod into certain burrows and with the remaining time you'd have on your hands, maybe find a cure for cancer etc?