Congratulations Celibate Vampire!

Vampires are renowned lotharios: they’re filled with lust and they hunger for the very essence of life: blood. And sex-fluids, too. Those are a big part of life, we guess. Anyhow, that’s what vampires are known for.

But even before you were turned, you hated bigotry like nothing else. And if there’s one thing you’re gonna do with your un-life it’s buck stereotypes wherever you find them (and tirelessly volunteer for various civil rights organizations). You figured the best place to start would be at home, and so since turning you’ve withheld pleasure from yourself, both onanistic and otherwise, in order to hone your mind and prove that you’re far more than the sum of your lusty parts.

The end result is that you are the world’s most organized and fastidious, well invested night watchman. When you aren’t working one of your many night jobs, you’re cleaning your apartment or preparing wonderful deserts for sale at one of the many baking themed raves that occur at least once a week in the greater Seattle area. This means that you’re constantly surrounded by attractive young men and women who are rolling their skulls off, so your celibacy is constantly tested, as is your commitment to only drinking locally sourced cow and goat blood from ethical farmers.

Sure, all of this celibacy and clean living means you’re kind of an insufferable, self-righteous, judgmental douchebag who talks at length and with only the slightest prompting about Buddha, Jesus and a bevy of other people who are, at this point, more fictional characters than they are historical human beings. It also means your apartment is absolutely spotless. So you regularly manage to get incredibly attractive women home where you, in true dipshit form, just talk their ear off about whatever the shit you’re reading most recently happens to be about. If you get a bug in your craw to tear into that ass or take a bite out of a given neck, you suppress it, compulsively re-arranging the magazine collection on your coffee table so that, instead of being arranged alphabetically or by date received, they’re arranged by subject, or in the same fashion they’d be arranged in a Barnes and Noble or by Library of Congress’ obscure magazine filing system (which you’ve committed to memory at this point). If that doesn’t work you excuse yourself and begin cleaning your bathroom intensely, emerging only to give the young woman some literature about improving her self-awareness and then retiring to your blacked-out room, where you calmly do your best not to be masturbate until you’re relatively sure that your lady-friend has fallen asleep. Then you cook a delightful brunch with bacon-avocado omelets and freshly ground coffee and wake her up just after noon in another room without any natural light so you can enjoy your meal together.

Today, disaster is going to strike: you’re going to discover that the avocados you bought at Safeway are no longer any good. Luckily, you’ll still have one person from your old life as a human (a sixty year old widower named Saul) who will still speak to you. He’ll agree to stop by a farmer’s market and get some avocados for you, permitting you don’t lay any New Age bullshit on him while he’s handing them off to you this evening. You’ll agree and the most serious crisis you’ve encountered in the last decade will be resolved.

Congratulations Celibate Vampire!