ZwinkyZwinkys.  Those loveable, dressable, virtual cutout dolls that are all over the Internet.  What makes them so damn sexy?  Why am I attracted to a crude representation of a human being that, if made flesh and blood, would be a hideously bug-eyed and encephalitic-headed monster? It’s not a new phenomenon for me.  Like R. Crumb, I very early found myself sexually attracted to cartoons.  In his case it was Bugs Bunny (more than one person has noted the frequency of Bugs dressing in drag in his battles with Elmer Fudd and even the Tasmanian Devil, and so you can form your own conclusions about Bugs’ proclivities, and also take a moment to ponder the cross-species obsessions of Pepe Le Pew while you’re at it–I feel less lonely about my interests when I consider the unusual forms that sexuality takes in Warner Brothers cartoons). For me it’s always been attractive human female superheroines* or, at the extreme end, hyper-anthropomorphized cute animal characters like Babs Bunny (check out the rabbit rack!).  Zwinkys, though.  They’re obviously designed to stir erotic feelings: they’re curvy, busty, have beautiful big eyes and knowing grins.  And they first appear to you in their underwear.  If that’s not a come-on I don’t know what is.**  So, I’ve come out of the Zwinky-loving closet, and soon, no doubt, I’ll be changing my name and moving to another town to hide my identity.  But for one brief moment I spoke truth and felt freedom, and no one can ever take that away from me.

* A random list of comic book superheroines I was devoted to: Dazzler, Invisible Girl, Rogue, Aurora, Batgirl, Raven.

** Note: based on my romantic history, there’s a very good possibility that I don’t know what a come-on is.