What is a real man? 2: Don't be weird and creepifying

I recently ran across this piece of eloquent smoothery on a (usually) intelligent and reasonable (heh) and well known message board for wrestling fans:

"i was quoted by the people who run (name remitted) website that it would cost me 250 dollars to buy a pair of her worn panties"

I'm honestly unsure what I find stranger: the fact that the question got asked in the first place, the fact that it got answered at all, or the exorbitant price quoted. Maybe I shouldn't be surprised at the question... the guys in question, after all, are a collection of ill informed wannabe cabin in the woods libertarians who believe that Ayn Rand is God (and Rorschach is her prophet). Um, actually, in a sad kind of way, I think I just described a massive segment of the internet. Considering that... well, it's gonna be hard to finish this post and I might have to go lie down for a while. Anyway, given that sort interacting with the girl in question and her "people" (who I'm pretty sure is her, her friend/webmistress and her cat, and who are all as crazy as all hell and, like all women anywhere near the public eye, good at humping a buck off of perverts), the communication doesn't surprise me that much at all. I think the bizarreness comes, to me, from the fact that a dude would ask the question in the first place.

(imagine this next part read by the wise, wonderful, late Isaac Hayes)

What kind of man, oh, what kind of man, expresses interest in used panties and not... the treasure beyond? You gotta lay that lady down, that fine foxy lady down, you gotta lay that fine foxy lady down and make sweet love down by the fire, oh, down by the fire. You gotta be strong and gentle, strong and gentle at the same time, gotta murmur sweet nothings while you lay down a bass line, be firm and gentle while you hold the football, yeah, hold the football tightly to you, so you don't fumble when you run down the field, mmm, hold the football tightly, gently, spank the football softly, lay that fine lady, fine foxy lady, down by the fire...

(okay, it's probably time to let Mr. Hayes get back to heaven or fighting Thetans or whatever it is he's doing)

Anyway, what I'm trying to say, I guess, is this: how daft do you have to be, how incapable of interacting with a woman do you have to be, to even consider this an appropriate question? If you want to be cool you don't, I repeat don't offer to buy a woman's laundry. Jesus tap-dancing Christ. If you want to waste money on a chick in the public eye (I've done it, believe me, I've dated a Miss Teen Georgia runner-up, and that kind of chick likes expensive dinners, baby) then you should, I don't know... buy her crap off of her little Amazon wish-list (especially if she reciprocates with hand written notes and personalized photos, or something, which seems sweet to me, although I have, as said, wasted enough money on beauty queens for the moment/lifetime!), and if you want to be slick and awesome and friendly you should promote whatever it is she does on your social networking site, or read and comment thoughtfully on her blog if she has one, or reply to her on twitter and pretend whatever ludicrous thing she is jabbering about is remotely interesting, or tell her that her pet pictures are cute... basically? Do most anything--anything--apart from offering to purchase her laundry basket. Women are people too, men of the internet (real men of genius!), and the best way to make friends is to... be friendly, as Dr. Sevrin would say. You know how to be friendly, don't you?

(Here's a hint: see the first entry under the heading "What is a real man?" for an example of how not to be friendly)