Monday, June 29, 2009

Why I Would Nail Emily Dickinson

This is a piece I wrote for a contest on McSweeny's. Enjoy.
Emily Dickinson is my white whale. You might be wondering, “But Joe, she’s not that fat.” If that really is what you’re thinking, please stop reading this now, you’ll only give yourself a headache if you attempt to keep up with everything. I’ll even give you a few minutes to decide what episode of “America’s Got Talent” you’re going to watch on Hulu instead.
Is he gone?
Good. I hate that guy.
So as I was saying, Emily Dickinson is my white whale, the pinnacle of my sexual conquest. I want to harpoon her[1]. A lot of guys and lesbians probably think Emily Dickinson is an odd choice for my “Top Lay”, what with Scarlett Johansson smuggling watermelons under her shirt and Megan Fox sporting legs that could light a fire inside the Pope.
I’m not here to argue that Emily Dickinson is the hottest woman of all time, but rather that she is the equivalent of a sexual Holy Grail. More men have been on the moon than have been inside her. And it’s not as if Emily Dickinson had her sexual life derailed by her career. She spent her days walking around her house, making brownies, and writing poems. Emily Dickinson made a conscious choice not to get laid. Don’t get me wrong, there are a lot of people who are purposely celibate in the world, but that doesn’t necessarily make them the top people to nail. Mother Theresa? Hit that and you’ve bought yourself a seat next to Hitler for the rest of eternity. Jesus Christ? That’s like eight sins for those of you who even thought about how you’d make love to him.
My point is that Emily Dickinson is the perfect combination of celebrity and non-religious celibacy. It is a conquest to get to first base with her, a crusade to get to second, and a full blown war of flattery and seduction to circle all the way around to the point of love making, without eternal damnation to curse those able to succeed in their immense efforts.
Now imagine you were the first one to get down and dirty with Emily Dickinson, having spent what I estimate will be 7 months, 24 days, and 3 hours seducing her through song, humor, promises of love, and gifts of new white dresses for her to replace her old white dresses with. Many of you might think that the benefits end after the pleasure of coitus, but you would be fools for doing so.
First off, there would be the gift of a catch phrase. Your friends, amazed that you had been with such a famous and reclusive woman, would surely be hesitant to believe you pulled off such a feat.
“You,” they would say, “you nailed Emily Dickinson?”
You would take your time to build the tension, looking squarely in the eye of your most doubtful friend before saying, “I got my Dickin, son.” You should feel free to use that on any future successful sexual endeavors.
Such a glorious gift would not be the lone perk of doing the deed with Emily. As stated above, Emily Dickinson was renowned not only for her poetry, but her baking skills as well. Undoubtedly, the first man to rock Emily’s world would be immortalized with poems and showered with cakes for the rest of his life. Both of these things open up a world of sexual opportunity to the recipient. Suppose you’re at a combined birthday party for Scarlett Johansson and Megan Fox. Having so many delicious baked goods lying around your house, you decide, “Hey, why don’t I just bring a cake with me as a gift?” So you bring an amazing cake, and both Scarlett and Megan approach you, impressed with the fine baked good you’ve given them.
“Joe (or Steve, whatever your name is), where did you get such an amazing cake?” Scarlett would say.
“Oh, you know, Emily just keeps sending me these things since I nailed her so well,” you would reply.
“You’re that Joe (or Steve)?!” they would both shout, “The one who Emily wrote ‘Wood so Good’ about?”
Of course you would blush, embarrassed at the revelation that, yes, a few poems were written about you and your sexual prowess. They would fawn over you the rest of the night, amazed that such a famous romantic was at their party before inviting you back to their place to jointly “thank you” for such a wonderful present.
No one woman in history has ever had as much potential return after a sexual encounter. Investing in Emily Dickinson is like investing in IBM circa 1950. There should be no doubt in anyone's mind that the effort required to be successful in pursuing her, combined with the benefits reaped from the aforementioned nailing, make Emily Dickinson far and away the Holy Grail of sex.

[1] See, this analogy already works on two levels. That dude was way out of his league.


  1. lol.

    is someone suddenly finding a lot of time on his hands?

  2. Joe has his hands on everything.

  3. you're amazing and ridiculous.
    i will soon write a similar post about entitled "why i would jump holden caufield." stay tuned.

  4. I can tell you that story:

    Holden bitches about the way you smell, pussies out of sex, then cries himself to sleep thinking about what phonies you and everyone else in the world are.