By Kelly Kreth
sixthflrwalkup@aol.com

[NOTE TO READERS: Recently, Paul Janka, author of How to Get Laid In New York, became an Internet celebrity after reports of his sexual exploits surfaced on websites, and he appeared to discuss his attitudes toward women on the “Today Show.” Accounts of his get-them-drunk-and-hungry approach to dating have made him an object of fascination, revulsion and, in the case of Kelly Kreth, obsessive fantasy, which has led her to write him this open letter, hoping for an in-person rendezvous.—Eds]

Paul-baby, let me tell you just a short bit about myself. Forget my age, dreams, or that I like beach walks and rainy days. I won’t waste your time with such frivolities. I’ll spend my time discussing those things with my girlfriends as I should. This isn’t about kittens and carnivals. Let me just discuss what is pertinent to our possible upcoming rendezvous.

Thinking back—way back—I think it has always been about the ass for me. I remember being 5 years old and having a doctor’s kit that had a plastic needle. At 5 I had been to the pediatrician many times and knew the needle was typically inserted into the ass cheek. However, at home when I was playing doctor with myself, I’d put the needle in my actual anus. I derived an odd sexual pleasure from it.

I felt this same odd pleasure from reading your “Manisexto” this week. Something that shouldn’t be making me feel good, did. There were some really fabulous things in there, like, “I keep a spreadsheet of these girls, just as a record, with an ‘X’ if they let me bang them in the ass.” The fact that you have a list where you creatively use an “X” to indicate which of the triple-digit lovely ladies you’ve fucked in the ass, makes you even more endearing to me than anything else. I long to be immortalized on that list: Kelly Kreth, Sex Columnist, UES.

“I think that a guy walking into an unstructured evening is a fool. I’ve basically moved forward toward a more efficient strategy, part of which is, of course, trying to get a girl in bed, but ultimately it’s not doing fucking anything I don’t want to do.”

I admire a man with a [fucking] plan and the wherewithal to stand up to all the naysayers who are trying to hold him down. Even though you’ve taken quite a beating in the press, you have the courage of your convictions. I can only hope the women are also color-coded on your chart, which really gives new meaning to the word spreadsheet.

Not only are you succinct and to the point, but more so, you are poetic in a way few can be. “Your asshole has relaxed and the beautiful pinkness is moist, tender and ready.” My tight pink asshole is relaxed and ready for you, Paul. In fact, I can feel it blowing kisses your way as I type. [My editor will eat this up, and there is nothing better than having your editor eating up your pink asshole.]  

But clearly you understand that better than anyone. You know the true meaning of public relations. Give them something to talk about, right? You know exactly what to say to get a rise out of people so they will talk about you, put you on television and keep you there. I write about my tight starfish because I know, even while disgusted, people will be compelled to read. It doesn’t matter if it is out of titillation or horror, want or need, we just want their eyes on the page and on us. You and I are of the same mindset when it comes to self-promotion. Another thing we share is our uncanny use of the same type of ‘tongue-in-[ass]cheek’ tone in our writing that non-savvy readers miss.

Of course, simple logic that any woman who would let you run roughshod over her would probably let you run roughshod over her, is not lost on me. But you’re getting a book deal and a lot of press, and as a PR professional, I admire that.

You’ve tapped perfectly into the hysteria that ensues whenever a man treats bedding a woman like a game, when so much of American society is built on empowering women to treat trapping a man like a game. You’ve found the perfect thing, simple common sense that taps into the zeitgeist at just the right moment. You are getting rich by repackaging The Secret—which was the 10th repackaging of basic common sense.  You’re just a specialist: You ask the universe just for sex. People are too busy REACTING to you—positive and negative—to actually pay attention to what you are saying. I’d tip my hat to you, but instead, I think next time I get my anus bleached, I will think of you. I tip my ass to you, Paul Janka.

Every Sex Columnist in this city has seemed to miss your point, having at you recently, and I’m pretty shocked. They are sex writers, not theologians or ethicists. They are all spewing venom when all you want to do is spew. I just don’t get it. Men were born to do this. Think king of the jungle. Caveman pulling women by the hair back to their caves. Sex is natural, sex is good, not everyone does it, but everyone should.

I think because we are so similar in natures, the sexual chemistry will be through the roof. You, cutie, are a party waiting to happen; I want to fucking hop right on the Janka Love Train.

You are a genius with bedroom hair and a face made for riding. I can only imagine what the stubble must feel like against my smooth skin and hope to find out soon.

I love that you showed a glimpse of your softer side; you really care and want to give back to those that gave to you so willingly. “I just had sex with my 100th womAn; I should have made a T-shirt for her.” Limited edition signed and number Janka-tees are the most fabulous idea EVER. Think how valuable I’d be if I got to wear one! I’ve been Janka-ed!
New York City is a frenetic place. Everyone has heard of Eight Minute Dating, I propose you and I have an Eight Minute relationship. Every now and then, every New Yorker grabs a quick and easy bite at a fast food restaurant. Tasty, filling and satisfying without a lot of effort. You are offering great service quickly, just like McDonalds. You even boast: “Over 120 served” and I can only imagine you have quite the golden haunches.

I like that you also see the everyman in all of us. You see beauty in the pain of life and our daily struggle to grow and flourish in this crazy metropolis. “She may look fit, sexy and sophisticated, but after you’ve banged her and she’s naked, with mascara running down her face and she’s trying to stuff her thighs into a pair of too small jeans at 2 a.m., you’ll realize she’s just another person trying to get by.” We all are just trying to get by in the best way we know how and how nice that you offer brief intimacy, solace and a warm bed for those in mid-struggle.

If interested, I live right by you on the Upper East Side. Email me! I’m dying to play doctor with you.