Thanks, but you can keep your pubic lice

I was out at the pub with those crazy Germans again last night. Actually, I spent most of the night at a corner table with a young attractive German blonde called Karin. So, we're deep in conversation, when this guy comes up to us, and after cadging a fag off Karin, asks if he can sit down. So we start chatting. Turns out he's from Colorado, vacationing in Baltimore.

Karin is really into his hair, which is that kind of curly almost ringletty type hair like that guy from American Idol, whatever his name is:



"Wow, what beautiful hair. It's wasted on a boy," she says, stroking and stroking it. He was purring like a kitten.

It was the end of the evening and, quite frankly, I was a bit tipsy. When I got to the pub I'd decided I wouldn't drink, and the next thing I knew, I'd imbibed seven glasses of wine. Next time I'm going to try reverse psychology - I'm going to tell myself I must drink alcohol and then will hopefully find myself with an insatiable longing for orange juice.

Anyway, because I was drunk-ish, I said to this guy (Mark? Matt?) "What's the craziest thing you've ever done sexually?"

"I went out with a Swedish woman once. I love European women. I like you two."

"Right. The craziest thing you've ever done is sleep with a Swede? Ever had a threesome?"

Matt, quick as a whippet, came back with, "No, but I'd like to. Would you two like to have a threesome with me tonight?"

"I dunno. Do you want to?" I asked Karin, who was still drooling over his hair. She nodded, in some kind of daze. I swear, she was hypnotized by his hair.

"Hang on," I said to Matt. "Where are we going to have this threesome? Are you going to pay for a hotel room?"

"Yeah, sure, the Black Cat Inn is right around the corner."

I immediately began having fantasies of some five star hotel and stealing the bathrobe and all the little shampoo bottles, and rolling around on a king size bed with Karin, while Matt showered us with ....

"Hang on," I said. "Isn't the Black Cat Inn a motel?"

"Yeah, I guess so. Hotel, motel, what's the difference?"

As if he needed to ask! Everybody knows that the only free gifts you're likely to take home from a motel are the pubic lice off the stained polyester sheets.

At this point, as they say in The News of the World, I made my excuses and left. (The News of the World is a UK scandal sheet in which an undercover reporter is always 'investigating' say, a sado-masochistic orgy, in order to 'expose' these degenerate excesses, but never (or so he claims) actually has sex while he is on the job. At the point he is offered it, he always says, "I made my excuses and left.")

And today, while I lovingly nurture my hangover, I can't help wondering about the differences between men and women. Do men really not care where they're doing it, as long as they're doing it?

Footnote: By the way, I wasn't actually going to do the threesome, I was just playing along...just in case any of you are concerned about my moral welfare!