I would like to talk about sex. Or, as you may more commonly know him, Prince.
In case you are unfamiliar, Prince is a man who, in all likelihood, has had sex with your mother so many times he is to be now legally considered your common-law father. Here, here is a photograph for your reference, but ladies, please be careful. This may be the last thing you see before your vagina explodes:
It may seem odd that I respect Prince so greatly, but allow me to explain. You see, Prince has two very substantial things going against him as a sex symbol, in that he is:
A.) A small man.
B.) Kind of queer.
These two things are commonly known as the Deadly Duo of Emasculation, and there is no more effective pair of physical traits to fop up a dude than they. But Prince not only possesses these, he completely embodies them.
Short? Lords yes! Prince is five foot two, which is the gold standard of short for short men. Life for a man of 5’2 is fairly limited, and to be respected at all you better be at least one of four things: seriously funny, bat-shit insane, some kind of Asian, or able to mimic a charmingly stereotypical Irish brogue for hours on end.
Kind of Queer? Bitch please, Prince wears nothing but ruffled shirts, purple velvet suits and giant gold gender necklaces. He could strap a dildo to his head and insist you call him Dong “The Draggin” Wilson and most people wouldn’t twitch an eyelash.
As far as physical aspects go, Prince only has one thing on his side: Being a minority. Minorities are sexy, mysterious, and exotic, or as some people have told me ‘just from somewhere else, dude, Jesus stop being such a dick.’ Regardless, Prince is…wait….he is a minority right? Yeah! Of course he’s…well…what? Chinese or something? I’m not really sure. He can’t be white anyway, as he has repeatedly proven to remain attractive to women even after they’ve seen him dance.
Considering the simple ratio of the aforementioned factors, Prince has no right to be as Omni-sexual as he in all reality is; it is a mathematical improbability. But he doesn’t just defy the odds, he blows them out of the damn water. He’s not just a sex symbol, he’s actually a symbol. This symbol:
And he’s not just sex, he’s a hundred percent dirty, raw, uncontrolled, perverted fucking-in-a-public-bathroom-in-Jersey sex:
This adorably miniaturized, possibly Hispanic milksop has had sex with more women than you will ever see. I mean that literally – be they passing by on the sidewalk, at a large event, or even just viewed from above on television lost amongst a crowd millions – Prince has slept with more females than your eyes will physically register within your lifetime.
There are theories as to why this might be. Some say Prince has help from the supernatural. Some speak of extraordinary abilities in his possession. They whisper by firelight in voices thick with awe and fear of the mysterious tendencies of panties to simply disappear when women listen to his music. Some attempt to explain this by positing that his aural abilities resonate on such a frequency as to dissolve certain kinds of fabric. Others say that his uncanny ability to distinguish, locate, and bed women is beyond the human realm of sense. They say to find women so accurately, so consistently, even in times of complete and absolute darkness, that he cannot possibly see, not like a man does. They believe that in order to accomplish this feat his trademarked high pitched squeals, his “oohs,” and “aahs,” serve as a form of sound based radar, much like a bat’s.
They call it Sexolocation.
An Italian man once sung “the moon, she is so beautiful…” In response, Prince fucked it. Nobody knows how this happened, nobody even has a theory.
There also persists a belief that the famous spell in the mid 1990’s (when Prince lost his very name and had to identify himself only as the previously mentioned symbol) is actually evidence of collusion with the devil. Names have power according to many ancient beliefs, and to steal a man’s name is to gain power over him; to steal his soul. The legend goes that Prince paid for his amazing abilities with his immortal spirit, and was only able to regain it after he and The Revolution ventured into the very bowels of Hell itself to challenge the devil to a duel of electric guitars.
After seventeen days of alternating solos Prince won, the tales regale, by actually having penetrating intercourse with his guitar. As he brought the inanimate object to climax, it screamed out his name in a note so high and pure that the contract he’d signed with Satan burst into purple flames. Unable to replicate or best this feat, the devil was beaten, and Prince retook his identity.
But these are still stories, stories some will not believe. I do not know that I have truly related the depth and breadth of his epic exploits. Here, let me impress this upon you with a few examples, brief exercises in scope and scale:
Look to your left, now look to your right. In either of those directions, do you see a nineteen year-old supermodel begging you for sex? No?
Prince does. As a matter of fact, if you were to tell him that there was this one time when you looked to either side of you and nowhere to be found was there a nubile young teen aching to service you, Prince would have no fucking idea what you’re talking about. Oh, he would understand all of the words you just used, but when you put them together in that specific sequential order you might as well be speaking fucking Egyptian. Unless Prince is Egyptian which, god damn, he could very well be.
Let’s try another:
Prince has slept with somewhere around oh, say 1,083,343,937 women. He stands at five feet, two inches tall. That is 17,473,289 penetrations per vertical inch of his body. There are roughly 6.5 billion people in this world at last estimation. Half of this population is female, which would mean 3.25 billion ladies alive right now. According to the numbers, that means Prince has slept with 1/3 of all the world’s women. Do you understand? One in every three women you meet has spent a night either beneath, on top of, wrapped around, or perhaps upside down and spinning around in rapid, concentric circles with Prince, depending on his mood. Ladies, look to your left, now look to your right. One of those women in the room has slept with Prince. Are you alone? If so, I’m afraid the numbers insist it’s you.
The man has fucked you by default. I have no better definition of respect than that. Do you?