Topic: Dead Boyfriends Society by I.M. Naughtbitter Author: Jeffrey Herwatt Date: 10/07 06:11 PM (JHNotes: Sando Counts (a.k.a Mr. Naughtbitter) has also joined DBS, if you can't beat 'em, ... Reprinter with permission, BTW: I hate to have to report that Mr. Naughtbitter never did meet his next boyfriend before his death, his friends hope that he has better luck in the hereafter, but just incase, he was buried with his dildo!) Dead Boyfriends Society By I.M. Naughtbitter Some of you may have noticed one of the most pressing (and depressing) of all the crises facing those of us who have survived into the '90s: the Acute Boyfriend Shortage (ABS). The Boyfriend Shortage was brought about by the increasing popularity of the exclusive, private club know as the Dead Boyfriend Society (DBS). So far, over 100,000 young men have paid the initiation fee and joined DBS, leaving a huge leaving a huge gap in the Potential Boyfriend Pool (PBP) and leaving thousands of us Without a F**k Buddy or a Movie Date (WFBOMD). If you think that I'm imagining things or perhaps exaggerating out of an overactive and twisted seanse of reality, try this simple test on yourself: think back to the time that you had a boyfriend. Come up blank? Can you remember back that far? Still don't believe me? Here's another test; open up your little black book, the one that used to be filled with page after page of phone numbers of cute guys. Chances are it's like mine, and looks less like and address book and more like a Directory to the Afterlife. I've spent a small but very real fortune on magic markers to put in all of those little black X's. In the past, I have always maintained that the best way to deal with ex-boyfriends is to kill them after you break up. That way you won't have to run into them on the street. It's an ideal that I've aspired, but seldom lived up to. But then, we live in a less than ideal world. As attractive as the idea of shooting several of my ex-beaux is, I've been spared the expense of having to buy ammo to do away with Those I No Longer Date (TINLD) because of ... The Dead Boyfriends Society! (By the way, a movie by the same name is already in the works, directed by Fassbinder, written by Colin Higgins, and staring Rock Hudson, Brad Davis, and a cast of thousands!) My friend David, (also dead, different club!), used to say that the reason that the reason my boyfriends die is because I'm so hard on them. I think that this assessment is a bit harsh, even if every man that I have ever slept with is dead. Going to the trouble of catching a fatal disease just to get away from me seems a bit extreme. Still, I don't totally discount the possibility. The afterlife is, according to those who claim to know, peaceful, perfect, and probably doesn't include neurotic, demanding, egotistic lovers with all of their insecurities. In 1983, my true love joined the DBS. Having been basically single since then, I have thought about this topic a lot. My conclusion: I need to get f**ked long and hard and repeatedly over a number of years until I am going to feel good about the subject. A number of years, but how to fulfill this need? There are all sorts of services availible to those in need: hot meal delivery, food banks, free clinics, shelters, transit discounts, support groups, counseling, and a host of others. So why not a Boyfriend Placement Service (BPS)? I'll tell you why not: it's the insidious creeping influence of the Dead Boyfriend Shortage and the resulting Boyfriend Shortage! There are no Boyfriends left! Boyfriend Pool: EMPTY. To save you some trouble, I will list for you here the major avenues that are, in my experience, ineffective for finding a boyfriend:burning candles or incense, praying to any of the major or minor gods, blind dates, being fixed up by friends, art openings, bars, cafes, dinner parties, church services, support groups, cruising the supermarket, the personal ads, chance encounters, and especially begging and whining, pleading, and throwing things. Nothing seems to work, and, after years of trial and error research, I've come up with no solutions. Recent statistical data indicates that you are more likely to die in a plane crash than meet the man of your dreams. Not only that, statistics point to the fact that you'll probably be dead by the time they publish the next statistics. Again, my friends tell me that I am too negative, Bullshit! By all indications the boyfriend is an endangered species, encountered (if at all) only in obituaries, old photo albums, and girl-group songs from the late '50s. Fortunately for thos of us left without one, there is no Dildo Shortage.