(The following true story is Part 2 of the "Dear Howard Stern, please put me on your show..." promotional compaign.)

One day, I found an ad for a swingers' club. This seemed like the perfect solution to my problem (finding strangers to have sex with), and I became very excited by the idea. My image of what happens at a swinger's club came from a 1970's issue of Playboy magazine that I had secretly perused as a kid. I called the swingers' club, and it was explained to me that it was for couples only. So I spent the next few weeks trying to talk all the women I knew into going with me. I finally managed to persuade a fellow film student, arguing that it would be an interesting adventure and that we didn't have to have sex with anyone if we didn't want to.

We drove to a suburban house in the San Fernando Valley. My mind was filled with fantasies of nubile sexually-voracious co-eds. The door opened, and we were greeted by an overweight middle-aged couple. They ushered us inside, and introduced us to a half-dozen other overweight middle-aged couples, all drinking martinis and telling dirty jokes. Neither of us was even remotely attracted to anyone there, so we locked ourselves in a room and just talked for an hour, and then left precipitously. It was one of my most vivid experiences of the radical disparity between sexual fantasy and sexual reality.