Ok, let me spill some tea about my latest date — a true plot-twist kind of evening. Spoiler: it involves a torch. Yes, you heard that right, a flashlight and something slightly more raunchy. But first, let’s rewind.
So, last week, I found myself out in New York City on yet another date. No, sadly, not Mr. Big (a girl can dream), but this one wasn’t a bad pick either. A little younger, very well-educated and clearly on a strong career trajectory.
We first crossed paths back in January at a winter party in one of those dark, underground New York bars that practically scream “Mischief will be made here.”
Why did he leave an impression? His outfit did the heavy lifting. He was wearing a hat that boldly declared: “Show me that butthole.” Yes, really. Ok, for reference, it was a dress-up party, and I appreciated his sense of humor. So, when he found out I was back in town and asked me to dinner, I thought, “Why the heck not?”
Fast forward 10 months, and my memory of him was fuzzy — except for that hat, of course. I expected the same cheeky guy I’d met four martinis deep. But when I arrived at the restaurant, I was greeted by a polite, slightly shy guy who seemed… normal. Dare I say even wholesome? Not a “butthole hat” in sight.
The evening was fun. He gave good chat — though not as wacky as I’d expected — until, drumroll, he pulled out… a blue UV flashlight.
Let me set the scene: Dinner was done, and we’d ordered another round of drinks. I happened to compliment the bracelet he was wearing because, honestly, it was kind of cool — unique, not one of those Cartier clones every single person seems to own.
Then, with a little smirk, he reached into his pocket, whipped out a blue light, and said, “You’re never going to believe what’s in this bracelet.” He turned on the flashlight, shone it over the beaded bracelet, and suddenly, tiny dots lit up.
My jaw hit the floor faster than my last relationship did when he explained what those dots were. “Oh, that’s my jizz,” he said, as casually as if he’d just ordered another round of martinis.
“Sorry, what?” I asked, convinced I’d misheard.
“Yep. That’s my jizz,” he repeated, grinning.
Let’s just say it made me rethink everything I thought I knew about jewelry and romance.
Apparently, there’s a company in Canada that turns men’s semen into bracelets. He and a couple of mates all wear them proudly around their wrists.
Still perplexed the next day, I decided to dig deeper. He told me the name of the company that makes them and… well.. the process? You send this specialized jewelry business a jar of your freshest, ahem, contribution. They dry it into a powder, incorporate it into the beads, and ship it back with a UV light so you can glow up your, um, memories whenever you like.
The genius behind this idea is Amanda Booth, a jeweler in Canada who’s been crafting these sentimental pieces for a while. She calls it “jizzy jewelry,” and honestly, I’m not sure whether to be impressed or horrified.
It all started in 2021 when someone cheekily asked her on TikTok if she’d ever considered using “man juice” in her designs. Amanda, being the sport she is, made a half-joking Facebook post about it. To her surprise, the requests started flooding in. Now she has hundreds of clients commissioning bespoke pieces made from their love juice. Romance, 2024 style.
But let’s not pretend it’s all glitz and glam in the world of DIY sperm accessories. Amanda told VICE that while fresh samples are manageable, the ones sent through the mail? Oof. “It smells like semen, you know what I mean,” she said. Babe, unfortunately, we do.
After one particularly stinky day, she even implemented a “no morning processing” rule. Lesson learned: Only handle said jewelry after lunch.
Amanda’s TikTok showing the process went viral, racking up 5.8 million views. Love it or loathe it, you’ve got to hand it to her — this might be the most unique take on sentimental keepsakes ever.
So, there’s one to file under “things I never thought I’d see in my lifetime.” Dating in New York is a circus, but this? Next level.
Let’s see what next week’s date will bring — maybe a guy whose socks are made of pubes. Stay tuned.
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