On My Knees by Periel Aschenbrand

so, I will start to produce milk.”
    Me: “ Please tell me you’re kidding.”
    Hanna: “I’m not! He even said we could get a breast pump! I don’t know how these people find me!”
    I was beginning to think that maybe Hanna actually might have the same brain disorder that Dr. Zarkin, who carved his initials into his patients, had. I mean what would it take to realize that she was the common denominator here.
    Me: “So are you going to have sex with one of these people?”
    Hanna: “I don’t think so.”
    Me: “Why not?”
    Hanna: “I don’t know any of them. It would be too weird.”
    Me: “You didn’t know your masseur either.”
    Hanna: “That wasn’t having sex.”
    Me: “Well, neither is letting someone shave your tits!”
    Hanna: “I know. But still, I don’t think I want to do that. And anyway, this hot guy, who I met last year, e-mailed me.”
    Me: “Yeah? How did you meet this one?”
    Hanna: “Match.com.”
    Me: “Why did I even bother asking? And . . .”
    Hanna: “And we had e-mail sex.”
    Me: “You had e-mail sex? What the fuck is e-mail sex?”
    Hanna: “It’s like phone sex, but over e-mail. I thought we were going to hang out in person, but after e-mail sex, he was done. I told him I wanted to see him, and he promised that we would meet, but then he couldn’t even commit to that!”
    Me: “How did this all begin, please?”
    Hanna: “He e-mailed me but hinted that he didn’t want to or have time to date. So basically, he was e-mailing me because he wanted to get laid.”
    Me: “So that would have been perfect, if all you want to do is get laid.”
    Hanna: “I know but it kind of pissed me off that he said that. I was going to send him the perfect ‘fuck you’ e-mail and then I changed my mind. And so, for a few nights, we had e-mail sex. I was sending him pictures of myself, he was sending me pictures of himself, we were talking about what we would do to each other, and then when I told him I wanted to see him, he disappeared. I guess he was satisfied with that. I must give good e-mail sex.”
    Me: “Hanna, I know I’m not really in a position to judge and don’t get mad, but I feel it incumbent upon me to say this: maybe you should consider the fact that if what you want is to have an actual relationship, or even actual sex, maybe, just maybe you shouldn’t be having virtual sex with a virtual stranger.”
    Hanna, missing the point as usual: “He wasn’t a stranger. I met him last year.”
    Me: “Whatever. Fine. You know what I’m saying. Fine, he wasn’t a perfect stranger. I’m not trying to argue semantics with you.”
    This girl never ceases to amaze me. It’s like it’s one thing if what you want to do is have e-mail sex, which, to begin with, sounds like the biggest waste of time in the world, but fine. If all you want to do is have e-mail sex, then God bless you. But Hanna didn’t want to have e-mail sex. Hanna wanted to have actual sex. And then she goes and does something like this and then she’s disappointed that she’s not having actual sex. Or she’s having casual sex with someone and then she’s disappointed that whoever she is having casual sex with doesn’t want to be her boyfriend. It’s like you can’t do one thing when what you really want to do is something else. If you want to have e-mail sex, then have e-mail sex. But have e-mail sex because that, in and of itself, is what you want. If you want to get laid, then for the love of God, go out and get laid. If you want a boyfriend, I don’t know what to tell you.
    Actually, I take that back. If you want a boyfriend, stop wanting a boyfriend. Life doesn’t work like that. If you want a boyfriend, start with forming a good relationship with yourself instead of looking to other people to fulfill you. Stop accepting things you don’t want. Stop settling. If you don’t wait for what you want, you’re never going to get it. That may sound like some sort of new age garbage but it isn’t