Lenny Spodnik was relatively certain that sex was everything. Of course, he rarely had an opportunity to put this theory into practice, but if the chance ever arose, Lenny was certain that he would prove himself a sexual dynamo. In fact, Lenny couldn't even imagine why he never could find the perfect woman. All the jerks in the world who have women all over them, Lenny thought, and I can't get even one!
In the meantime, Lenny dreamed. And dreamed. He sent a photo of himself (and a fairly witty ad) to a local singles' magazine, imagining that the replies would storm in. He spent most of his spare time at the local singles bar, waiting for that one night when the cosmos would be in harmony and Ms. Right would come along. The only people Lenny ever encountered through these social avenues, though, were people just as desperate as he, who had little to offer Lenny except their desperation. Darn my bad luck, he thought.
While Lenny waited for the cosmos to get in step, he periodically thumbed through old issues of his favorite girlie magazine. He had been nuts over this periodical, ever since an old edition that his dad had left lying around caught his eye. In fact, it was that one edition of his dad's that was the impetus for Lenny's vast fantasy life. Lenny had taken one look at this centerfold (the year having long since been torn away) named Janet, and Lenny succumbed forever to the wild call of his glands.
Janet, Lenny felt, was surely the encapsulation of his every wish in a woman. From her flowing blonde hair, to her fully rounded bosom, right down to her finely painted toenails, Lenny regarded her as everything he could possibly ask for. In fact, Lenny sometimes regarded Janet's image as a curse to him, since no woman could possibly lip up to his expectations unless she matched the perfection of [sigh] Janet.
One night Lenny sat hunched over a bar, when a woman walked in and sat directly across from him at the other end of the bar. Lenny sullenly looked uip from his beer and did a double take. The combination of the bar's dim lighting and the beer's numbing effects must have been playing with his mind. Because that woman who was sitting across from him looked exactly like... And she seemed to be smiling -- at him! Lenny felt himself heading off the deep end until he made a sharp right turn back to reality. Sure, Lenny, he thought to himself -- an old Miss November has nothing better to do than drop in at a seedy bar and make time with you, of all people. Better get a grip on yourself.
Lenny marched over to a video game, sat down, and deposited a quarter, proud of himself for regaining control. He quickly got involved with the game -- until he looked up and saw the blonde across from him. "Mind if I watch?" she asked.
Lenny wasn't sure what was more entrancing -- the trail of blonde hair or the infinite cleavage. The war plane on Lenny's video game quickly tailspun and never regained its former power. The woman laughed at Lenny's awe and invited him to sit with her. Lenny simply nodded his head and trailed behind her, his tongue too far down his throat to form the right words.
They talked for a couple of hours, though it took Lenny quite some time to regain his powers of conversation. He was simply stunned that this gorgeous creature was interested in anything he had to say. And now that she was up close, she looked even more like... Aw, forget it.
Finally, the bar was about to close, and they had to get ready to leave. The woman asked if he'd like to stop by her place for a while, and Lenny quickly put his hormones on stand-by as he said yes.
"You know," the woman said, "we've been talking all this time, and I've not even thought to ask your name."
"Uh, Lenny. And yours?"
"Janet."
