"I have been putting off doing this Rate-A-Date because I genuinely liked Paul Janka. I felt bad for him in a way," writes Kelly Kreth, the ousted New York Press sex columnist, PR bunny, and seeker of any and all forms of attention. Paul Janka, Manhattan's slimiest bachelor and minor internet-celebrity, "seemed lost and confused and completely harmless... He is just a man with a compulsion that needs to be addressed... He graduated from Harvard and is pretty smart and intense, but it would seem that a few years ago he became aimless. He worries, too, that he isn't contributing to society." Not with a tract called How To Get Laid in NYC, he isn't. Her five-hour date with him is full of frankly disturbing scatological descriptions that cross the line into the clinically weird. It also reminds us where all the smart girls are on a Sunday night: not going on dates as a "media joke."
What we did: He came to my house at night, ordered sushi, sat on my couch and drank tea and talked. He touched my breasts in mid-sentence, completely out of context, and seemed distracted by them and sexual thoughts that would pop into his mind sporadically. He told me he hadn't showered in 4 days. I let him know I was appalled he'd come to my house with urine stained manties.
...After agreeing to flash him my tits quickly and letting him have one more cup of tea, he wiped down my coffee table, kissed the Mins, threw out my garbage and left around 3am. [Kelly just wrote to clarify: "The 'Mins' refers to my mini dachshund, appropriately named, 'MINI'. Janka and the Mini got on really well."]
I gave him a quick hug goodbye and felt bad when he said I made him feel dirty and bad. I wished him well and I really meant it.
Overall impression: A very smart, sweet guy who needs some sort of anchor and guidance in his life. A man who is deeply conflicted and needs sex addiction therapy and possibly meds.
Reason I went on the date: It started as a media joke; I wrote my last column as an open letter to him.... I was lonely and bored. He wanted to come over.
OK, wait: girlfriend goes on a date with someone as a "media joke" (read: plea for attention!), and ends with an I-feel-sorry-for-you therapy prescription? This is the same woman (who is 37 years old, I might add), who flashed her breasts on said date, displaying a stunning lack of boundaries. And blogged about it. This is the worst episode of Sex and the City ever. [Related media joke date, via Jezebel]