On glorious sunny spring days when you just can’t seem to shake that relentless feeling of happiness and wellbeing, it always helps to be reminded there are some seriously sick and nasty people out there.

I’ve gotten several emails from people who purport to be women. These emails are expressions of desire for sexual encounters that appear positively Olympic in nature. Sometimes they include descriptions of various unbelievable physical attributes, sometimes not, but they always express their desires with images so crude and pornographic that, to quote Anne Lamott, they could make Jesus want to drink gin straight out of the cat dish. It’s an interesting phenomenon, this reducing the act of love to something so ugly and unattractive. You would think even the most jaded old Eighth Avenue whore, desperate for her next fix, would recognize that tactic as a complete turn-off. At least, I presume the Eighth Avenue whore would know better; having never—in the words of the song—taken comfort there (Comfort? Yikes!) I wouldn’t know for sure, but it’s a little like those photographs you see of people on nude beaches: they are invariably the people you most wish would keep their clothes on.

So with all this in mind, I shall now offer Jameson’s Guidelines for Sexy Emails From Women I Would Really Prefer Not to Have Any Emails From:

1) Unless you look like Heidi Klum or Gisele Bündchen or Penelope Cruz or someone comparable, please keep your clothes on. In fact, give serious consideration to either a muumuu or a burka. Even if you do look like one of them, remember Victoria’s Secret is a lot more titillating than Playboy.

2) Keep in mind, I am a man, and men invariably want most what they can’t have, so instead of telling me what you want to do to me or what I may do to you, tell me you have a taken a vow of chastity and plan to join the Carmelites. That’ll drive me wild.

3) Speaking of nuns, a heavily starched habit is as good as a burka. An army tent is another option.

4) And speaking of men, it is true, oh, so true, that the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. Instead of photographs or filthy emails, send recipes. Preferably heart-healthy recipes specifically for organic food.

5) I am a happily married man and I expect my wife to be treated with courtesy and respect. Only the French know how to conduct extra-marital affairs with anything like dignity or grace. Therefore, out of consideration for my wife, I insist any email dalliance must necessarily assume a French flavor, so if you insist on talking dirty, please use Old French or, even better, ancient Gaulish. I’ll pretend I understand.

6) Remember I am a writer. By definition, that means no reality can ever possibly live up to my fantasies, so unless you want to email me about something I have written, or about horses or dogs, or to correct some of my statements about the pre-Socratic philosophers, or to question my assumptions about the Great Schism and the use of leavened versus unleavened bread in the Eucharist, perhaps it would be better if you didn’t email me at all. Just let me fantasize about the unknown you.