Jason H.

Sometimes I feel like a schoolteacher.

No - don't get me wrong.

I don't mean I feel like having a schoolteacher.

Oh, no.

Think yourself back a few years and try to remember, let's say, the guy who taught you chemistry in the fifth grade.

Severe hair loss problem… a face with the texture of the lunar surface… glasses with lenses like beer bottle bottoms… bad breath… godawful tweed jackets with leather patches on the elbows… original '70s flared pants originally worn for a Sonny & Cher concert.

I could go on and on…

Hmm… Fancy waking up one morning with that guy naked alongside you?

(Naked? That's assuming - though there's no actual evidence of it - that the guy had ever removed those pants in the previous 25 years.)

Oh, no… I don't mean I feel like having a schoolteacher at all.

What I ought to have said is that sometimes I feel like a schoolteacher must feel.

After all, hundreds of you guys out there are teachers. You can't fool me.

In the fantasy world of the local gay bar you may claim to work on a construction site (gives you an excuse to wear the Village People hat, after all)…

Or maybe as a deep sea diver (explains your familiarity with crabs)…

Or even an airline pilot (though it's pretty obvious that a trolley dolly would be closer the mark)…

But the truth will out, as they say, if only from the chalk particles embedded under the nails of your ink-stained fingers.

And as all you teachers will confirm, the golden rule is - look, but don't touch.

And that's exactly the way I feel when I'm with my buddies in the army cadets corps.

Look, don't touch.

It's right up there, I guess, with Don't ask - don't tell and Never bend over to pick up the soap you've dropped in the showers.

But, believe me, Look, but don't touch is the hardest by far to live up to.

By the way, just in case you think I'm living in as much of a fantasy world as all those other guys, let me show you.

Here I am - believe me now?

Like I say, when I'm out with the boys in the cadets corps, I've gotta be squeaky clean.

I know some of them are probably gay too (especially Mike, whose dad sent him along to "make a man outa that goddam faggot kid.")

Yeah, I bet a few of them are into dick, big time.

But it's more than my life's worth to let them practice on my pecker.

So at the end of our weekly session after school, I come home with my head full of those gorgeous kids with their hard, muscular bodies topped by cute boyish faces - but all trying so hard to sound and act like Arnold Schwarzenegger in Predator.

And, of course, that just makes me so hot that I gotta do something about it.

Real quick.

I always follow the same routine - well, that's the army for you.

First of all I get outa that sweaty combat gear.

Then I take off the top…

… and, even if I do say it myself (though, to be honest, lots of others have said it too) I've got a pretty good looking body.

Next the vest has gotta go…