There’s no better way to describe my moral reaction to Natalie Dylan’s scheme to auction off her virginity than extreme indifference. I’m utterly burning in the white-heat of neutrality. What supposedly makes Dylan’s venture into the enterprising world of ebay prostitution the stuff of controversy-plus, is her status as a women’s studies graduate and insistence that this is an act of feminism.

While I can’t really bring myself to take a position on this, Dylan’s entirely defensible claims mark further evidence of the terminological abyss that lurks just beneath the surface of “feminism”. Anyway, I have to admire her lack of sentimentality for this perplexingly coveted flap of organic matter.

I lost my virginity when I fell on a handrail in 5th grade. Not only was the whole affair woefully unromantic, it was a freebee. If I had known that the genius decision to perfect my balancing act that fateful afternoon would result in the potential net-less of some $3M, I would’ve guarded my god-given little investment somewhat more jealously and maybe sold it on ebay to a blithering moron willing to pay through the nose for it. In that Dylan’s V-for-sale reveals the infinite absurdity of valuing such a commodity, maybe she is taking a positive step in the name of feminism after all. Such as it is.