Okay. We have two weeks to make this work. Let me tell you the deal.
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I work as an artist's model in the Bay Area.
(See, that's me. In packaging tape, actually. My proof. Sort of.)
Unfortunately, summer is slow for us model types in the Bay Area, unless we like filling in as porn extras, which I don't. That is, I don't know if I do or not. Honestly, this is wild speculation on my part.
Anyway, I have arrived at the inescapable conclusion that I must sell my shit, pack my crap, and hit the road for the summer, working where I can, all Grapes-O-Wrath style. Woo baby. I am the Joad family. Me.
However, I thought to change my situation, if possible, so here's my idea: we meet. We think, (to ourselves, separately--barring instantaneous total mind fusion, which would be kind of scary), dear God, who is this rare creature mine eyes do now behold?
I'll probably give you a Look to let you know we're on the same page.
Then you drop everything, just like me, and we Run Away Together. Preferably, you have a car too, because my Honda Civic may not have enough room to contain you, me, all our shit, and the swelling tumult of our sexy love.
Mm... sexy love.
Or, conversely, you'll be this fabulously wealthy entrepreneur with a need for a sweet, slightly bizarre coworker to share office space. You'll offer me a job, maybe a place in your life forever, and we shall raise many babies together and name them in such a way that render them Unfit for Civilian Life. I sort of favor Frederika for a girl--what do you think?
--Able to construct a complete paragraph with fewer typos than contained in this ad. If you can't respond to me in kind, I will sort of hate you. I'm sorry, this is the internet, that's how it goes.
--Slow to send pictures of your hard throbbing member. Much as I love hard throbbing members, I think there's a good reason why our respective bits are so far from eye level. Again, deviations from this form will cause me to hate you.
--Tall. My one vain request. I'm 5'9" so unless you have really good self-esteem, please be taller than me. And reasonably fit/attractive. I don't want to be scraping you off my hiking shoes when we climb Mt. Whitney. Also, you must be fairly attractive so as not to scare off potential day employers as we tour America, penniless-style.
--Intelligence is key. You can't fake it. I'll know. We'll need all the brains we can get on this mad dash.
--Creative. We're trapped in a sinking boxcar in the middle of an deserted lake outside of Duluth. You've got thirty gerbils and a magnifying glass. I am bound naked with duct tape in the corner, for some reason. What do you do? (Actually, reading this back over, let's not pursue that one.)
--Kind/Giving/Brave/Resourceful/Tenacious/Integrity Plus!: So I want a boy scout. You're always prepared, right? See, that's good, because I'm not.
--Barely Restrained Sex Drive: I mean, not too MUCH of a boy scout though, okay?
I'll leave it at that.
DROP DEAD GORGEOUS (obviously)
HWP--slender with curves
Long long hair
Liberal but, like, you know, POLITICS... man...
Experimental (but not into addictions, if you know what I'm saying)
Oddly pure. Also: just plain odd.
22. Very very 22. If you're much older than me, this may take some getting used to.
Not ready to send you my naked pictures, sorry.
So quick now! Respond right away! We haven't got much time! Can't you see the situation is dire, yo?