When the piles of porn magazines around your apartment are doubling as a couch and a recliner, when your sheets are so hard you need to break them up with a hammer before cramming them in your washing machine, when you've developed severe carpal-tunnel syndrome in every muscle in your right arm, you are seriously in need of some nooky. This, my friends, is the dilemma I found myself in last weekend. I needed to find some action quick, before I lost my mind. For some reason the females at the places I hang out (the amputee clinic, the Carl's Jr. bathroom and the hole I dug in my backyard) weren't very receptive to my pickup lines. One of them even sprayed me with Mace. But what to do? Self-gratification can get boring, and beyond entering the exciting world of autoerotic asphyxiation, I had worn out most of my options.

The Solution

When I finally discovered the answer to my dilemma, I had to slap myself in the spleen for not seeing it earlier. For indeed, it had been sitting there staring at me with a sultry glance for months, unappreciated, unsatisfied and yes... unsexed. Perhaps it was after reading last week's column by Mike Fasolo on Sega Radar (which explored alternative uses for the Dreamcast) that I had my epiphany. If that adorable little console staring at me from the top of the pile of month-old pizza boxes could be used for so many other things, why not sex?

The Date

The following evening found me with a stomach full of butterflies. The mood was all set. The incense was lit, a romantic number from the Doodle Town Pipers was gently caressing the candlelight as it danced across the walls of my shanty. For the evening I had selected a 50-year old bottle of Chevreau de Fleu and a delicate mix of grilled salmon, sautied vegetables and fettuccine. You better believe there were plenty of butter-basted rolls on hand as well.

As for me, I had snipped the split-ends from my nose hairs and made sure there were no tiny pieces of diarrhea on my face. I was feeling like a real Dreamcast-killer, as it were. The time had finally come. I walked over to where my Dreamcast was sitting. It was really looking lovely. It had chosen a muted white hue for the evening and had complimented the simple beauty of its outfit with two controllers and a Stone Cold Steve Austin memory card. I sauntered over to my console, leaned against my porn-couch and looked it directly in the outlets.

"I made dinner, if you're hungry," I said. The console said nothing. My heart jumped with embarrassed disappointment, but somehow I managed to regain my composure. "What's wrong? Was I too pushy?" I asked, and again received no answer. I sulked back to the festively decorated kitchen table and poured a shot of Yukon Jack. Had I been too pushy? Or was my Dreamcast just shy? Then I figured it out; it wasn't shy... it just wanted to be pampered.

"Oh, you're a classy one, eh?" I purred as I walked back into the living room and tenderly picked the console up. Its plastic was soft and smelled ever so gently of spilt beer. I carried it into the kitchen and put it in front of its food. The night had begun.

The Night Heats Up

I won't bore you with the details of our dinner conversation. About that, let's just say that the Dreamcast continued to be shy for the better part of the meal. When the last fettucine had been sucked dry, however, I broke out the wine. It took a few tries to get my darling to drink up. Once it did however, the Dreamcast really started opening up to me.

After the Dreamcast and I had polished off nearly four bottles of wine, it was time for dessert. With a nod and a wink, the deal was signed. We walked off arm-in-cords to my bedroom to make the beast-with-two-backs. I'm too much of a gentleman to tell you the sordid details of what went on in that steamy bedroom, but rest assured, I couldn't walk for a week.

The Next Morning

The next morning I dropped my Dreamcast off and made breakfast for two. When I came back to pick it up, I was surprised to find that it had taken on the same frigid, standoffish attitude that it had displayed the night before. Surprisingly enough, I wasn't as crushed as you might expect. For, what could I ever be to the Dreamcast other than a guiltless night of urge fulfillment? The Dreamcast has many good games and even better ones forthcoming. SegaNet will soon make it the first console that can offer gamers hassle-free Internet play. It is respected worldwide for its simple elegance. So what if I was "used" by the Dreamcast? I would be lying if I told you that I didn't enjoy it. Hadn't my needs been fulfilled as well? What I had with my Dreamcast was a once in a lifetime experience. Besides, I could always go slumming and pick up a PlayStation. As I considered this horrendous alternative, I noticed my trusty old pillow staring shyly at me from across the room as if to say, "You've always got me." Knowing I was still wanted cheered me up, and I ate my breakfast with a smile on my face for the first time in months. For I knew that I had been involved in one of the greatest romances of all time. Thank you, Sega!

- Garrett Kenyon