It’s lonely without an ego. I’ve forgotten how to truly live. You know, walking on the beach, drinking a robust glass of wine, peeking from behind the curtains of an Embassy Suites to watch two slender American girls splash each other in a moonlit pool. Instant Dalai-wood!

Don’t get me wrong, I’m as celibate as a Mormon eunuch. But sometimes you have to put your vows to the test. Nothing evokes a battle with Mara, the evil one, like a whiff of cucumber body lotion on a Pilates instructor.

I just don’t get that kind of attention in Asia. Everyone there is a Buddhist or some other exotic Asian religion. But American girls get me. I’m the bad boy their parents warn them about.

Don’t worry, Mom and Dad, my danger-bits are shackled by the almighty Buddha. I’m just looking for a little companionship. If you’re an overly-educated white American female who supports a free Tibet and is willing to engage in a little aura petting, give me a call.