I shouldn’t be writing this right now. I’ve dodged alcohol poisoning and venereal disease –… I shouldn’t be writing this right now. I’ve dodged alcohol poisoning and venereal disease — statistically speaking, sometime around the dawn of spring semester, one of them should have rendered me permanently retarded and unable to grasp a pen.

But I never planned on being a Pitt News Sex Columnist at all. In the wake of a particularly depraved and pathetic weekend, a friend of mine, looking to knock me down a peg, suggested that if I were so damn special, I should apply for this position. I still haven’t learned my lesson, Leslie.

But here I am, ready to spread my reckless gospel. So this is my introductory column, and I have to make a decision. How much do I divulge about myself? This is the only time I’ll be the subject of a column, so I’m going to handle this right. I’m not going to rant about keeping a stable of bitches, and the like.

I’ve been a friggin’ dunce once or twice in my time, but I’ve learned from my experiences. I’ve learned the humor of it all, and I don’t take anything too seriously.

So, frankly, I’m taking this opportunity to clear my gilded name of the allegations that I’m sure will arise in the coming weeks and months. A man gets his name and picture in the paper, and then haters come out of the damn woodwork; just look at what happened to Clinton. So for the girls out there hanging on to stained hip-huggers, salivating at the thought of publicly sullying my name, let’s just settle it behind doors with various bribes, cool? I’m still not sure about how to right the stains upon our souls though.

Regardless, let’s get down to brass tacks. Liz and I are going to put out one column each, per week, once the fall semester begins. Don’t ask us about the sore on your lip; we’re not doctors or medical experts, and we’ll just go tell you to see one. And, in advance, if your boyfriend hits you, kick him in the balls and run to the five-oh.

Otherwise, I’m your man. I’m also the first man to write for this column. Now a sex columnist is a sex columnist, regardless of gender. But with the female as well as male constituents of the population now represented, I feel that the human condition will be better voiced within these pages. And I’ll write about oral; lots and lots of graphic oral.

But who am I? Why should 30,000 people listen to me? Well, read what I have to say; and I bet you’ll be intrigued. If you like and trust what I’ve got, it’ll be fun; I guarantee you that.

I’m a step away from typical. I’ve got friends who are brothers, but I’m not a Greek. I shower and shave every day, but I’m not a metro. I’ve never eaten meat, but I like the taste of fish. I’m probably also the only straight guy on campus who owns cowboy boots and a fringe jacket and dabbles in hard-core erotic fiction — the ladies love it.

I’m not the Marquis de Sade or Hugh Hefner; I’m not Herman Melville or Hunter S. Thompson. I’m a guy who’s been around, and has seen many things in his humble time. I’ve been low and high; I’ve hated and I’ve learned to play and love the game. I’ve seen sex from the comic to the criminal, and I’m still here, not as an expert, not as some sexual sage, but as a guy who’s looked at the game from more perspectives than most.

And I’ve learned a thing or two. Enough about me; I’m not saying anything else. Write in; ask me something. Give me what you’ve got, and I’ll be much obliged to answer.

For once, spread just the word. E-mail Anthony at [email protected].