Incase you’re not amongst the hip Showtime viewer demographic, the acronym DTF means down to fuck and is tossed about all too casually by Californication’s Hank Moody and his chunky, bald sidekick/agent, Charlie Runkle, whose only true objectives in life are: a) to make money and b) to get their rocks off—not that there’s anything wrong with either of those objectives, but I think the point of David Duchovny’s character is that he’s supposed to be a pathetic caricature of the Los Angeles male, not an idol.
There is something wrong with society when a man’s primary concern is whether a woman is DTF. She’s totally DTF. Is she DTF? Those two girls—DTF? WTF is with DTF? There isn’t even any incentive for men to date women anymore, because the women are all DTF at the drop of a martini or a hit of ecstasy. (Do people still do ecstasy?) Is ever man now a sex addict just looking for hot, nasty gonzo porn star sex? Is that what the world has become, or is that just the small, shallow sexual microcosm of Los Angeles.
Wait a minute, isn’t David Duchovny a self-declared sex addict, just like his character on the TV show? Do we once again have this issue of life imitating art and art imitating life, like Charlie Sheen’s former character Charlie Harper in Two and a Half Men (see my blog Drugs, Alcohol & Porn Stars, Oh My…)? I wonder if my readers really think I’m a single woman who can’t find a decent man in Los Angeles, or do they think I just write about that? Does my art imitate my life or my life imitate my art? I digress.
My question to you Los Angeles ladies is this: are you really all DTF any hot, rich, or successful guy that buys you a drink? Is this what you view as sexual equality? And if so, why is it you feel like shit the next day, regretting your indiscretions when the guys are high-fiving over theirs—or worse—not even thinking twice about them?