SelfAbsorbed.ME : ‘It’s Your Life, We Just Write it Funnier’

I’ve often wished that I could see naked photos of a guy before agreeing to a second date, or even before accepting a drink. Saturday, my wish kind of came true (sort of). Someone I knew had extra tickets to what she described as a ‘man auction,’ yes, man auction, and considering how starved we are for straight, caveman-like, non-metrosexual man meat in this city I put my TiVo remote down and began to get ready faster than you can say ‘desperate.’

I’d been told the auction was for charity.

Excellent.

So single despondent women throughout Manhattan have an excuse to publicly ogle and molest men under the premise of helping others? This is pure genius. The concept of charity actually fuels all sorts of activities that would otherwise be considered unseemly, like open bars, fake gambling and date auctions. I headed out eager to start guzzling free drinks and making obscene gestures with my paddle.

We get there and are given flowers by hot men with accents. Then a cute guy in a tie takes our coats. Then we’re handed wine. Then I find out all the men are rugby players meaning two things:

1. They’re strong and sculpted enough to play some football-like sport involving non-stop violence.

2. They’re most likely all foreign since rugby isn’t exactly the kind of sport that’s supported by American high schools or colleges.

Score.

If the open beer wasn’t limited to wine, I would’ve thought I’d taken an elevator ride to heaven.

Single ladies filed into their seats while being boozed up by shirtless men in dress pants and bow ties.

Then the man meat filed onto stage while ladies whooped.

The auction began and women went wild. It was drunken estrogen at its best as ladies viciously outbid each other for the gent that struck their fancy. They’d subsequently ‘own’ that man for the night – he was your slave. In the context of the event, that meant he served you food, kept your wine glass full and sneaked you hard liquor from the storage closet in the back. It also meant you could force him to make out with you…or service you with a foot massage.

The fun didn’t stop after all the men were sold. A different set of rugby players competed against one another in a karaoke competition (“Barbie Girl” was the highlight), dance competition, scavenger hunt (they had to collect a lady driver’s license, bra, high heel and earring etc), and strip tease.

The ultimate winner was the man who managed to collect the most single dollar bills in his underwear in an allotted frame. Yes, the inversion of traditional gender roles made me ridiculously happy.