I posted an ad to meet a lady on Craig’s and just had to share my experience. Truly believed my posting to be well thought out, perhaps a bit wordy, but gave accurate stat information, a bit about my background, some likes, and a personality overview. My ad was about 7 paragraphs long.
I received a one liner asking me to tell more about myself. I was thrilled to get even a single response but I didn’t know what more to tell. I know that I can’t say intimate things because the average computer has 2 delete keys, and was thinking that my childhood would be exciting to only to some therapists. I could discuss my theories on masturbation but it would require a novella and might be somewhat premature. I was going to say that I would leave the toilet seat down suggesting the potential of a LTR.
I thought that maybe the lady would be kind enough to share. Perhaps a first name would have been a sop to my 7 paragraphs. So, I walked very gingerly here, suggesting that it would not trample on the sanctity of anonymity and receipt of a first name would be humbly taken as an act of kindness.
I should have been satiated with the one liner, because now I received a one-word response. I shall, in the interest of discretion use a fictitious name and say that though I asked for stats as well, I received one word, “Jill”. I called my son who was just awarded an “A” in Differential Equations and knows Boolean Algebra enough to tutor and asked him how long it would take, extrapolating on the data received, to know her hair color. In a professorial tone of academia, he said it would not occur in my lifetime. Not appreciating the answer, I queried my other son who simply told me to “get a life”. He was never burdened by considerations of my feelings. I made a mental note to modify my will.
Undaunted, I composed the following: Dear Jill, We are getting to know each other, albeit slowly, in what may be a wonderful journey. I wonder if you might honor me with the knowledge of your hair and eye color so I may conjure a mental image of the lady with whom I am communicating. I added that if time permitted, perhaps ethnicity, age, height, weight would add to this picture allowing me some appreciation of the physical person.
I sat there staring at my own words. I thought that I am pandering to such a shallow level as the ‘physical’ when my interests should be exploring the inner beauty of the woman. I blamed myself for not rising to a higher plain and held society to task for bombarding me with a lifetime of Barbie imagery. I am also not being totally truthful here. In my heart of hearts I was praying that if her true stats were told as to age and weight, I would not be hurled into sensory overload.
She wrote her hair and eye color, her height, said she was Caucasian, left out age, and said that she was hgt/wgt proportionate except she gained a few pounds last year and “was working on it” and goes for walks. I don’t know if anyone who is reading this can appreciate what I paid for N.Y. Steak earlier that evening, but the “was working on it” made me run to the toilet, get on my knees, and regurgitate the entire dinner. Emerging, as a ray of sunshine was that she walks. There was some solace in the knowledge that she “moves” as it might be an indication that she would be more nimble than my ex if we did the nasty.
Now, frightened by the possibility of spending a date with an ancient corpulent woman, I divined a way of extracting her age:
Dear Jill, I am both ashamed and embarrassed to discuss age. I am the first to defend, to the death if necessary, the concept of women’s privilege. Age, should be held as sacrosanct by a man with any semblance of honor. Yet, I am moved to disclose that if you are a minor, this relationship cannot exist for legal reasons, and there are upper ranges that might stymie being everything I could be for you. Hence, dear Jill, pray tell me that you are an adult and I am older than you. I received an email stating, “yes, yes”.
You should know that at this juncture, 3 days passed. On the 4th day I was advised that she doesn’t do things like Craig’s List but a friend coaxed her. I was crushed. It meant that meeting through this media was beneath her dignity; answering my ad was a mere aberration, but perfectly acceptable for someone so needy and desperate as I.
It may have been a tactical error, but I felt that continuing here would be a gross disservice to all my male brethren. So, having taken a deep breath I put the death knell to this episode, I wrote, “Dear Jill, I guess a blow job is out of the question”.
Is there any man out there who believes I received an affirmative answer?
Is there any woman out there who believes Jill blew a good opportunity?