When I make love, my body contains multitudes, just like Walt Whitman said. My chiseled, Greco-Roman figure thrusts fore and aft like a great earth spirit. Beads of sweat bloom on my Jason Stackhouse-esque abs like morning dew on grass at the Creation. No one—man or woman—can resist the passion with which I make the beast with two backs. That’s why I’m a shoo-in at the Air Sex World Championships. The championships could be easily confused with stripping—or, worse, vaguely sexy dancing, like the kind your great-aunt might jokingly try at a wedding or during a game of charades—but they’re the only way that the unwashed public will get to experience the unleashed priapism of my insatiable lust. Because while my lovemaking abilities are probably evident to anyone who sees me slipping out of the shower like Rob Lowe in The Outsiders or doing a third set of crunches in the office gym, I make love with only a select few.
The Air Sex World Championships “Foreplay” pre-show begins at 10 p.m. at the Rock & Roll Hotel, 1353 H St. NE. $10. 21-plus. rockandrollhoteldc.com. (202) 388-ROCK.