email/coffee/kisses/sex/marriage/death/reincarnation/email - 38
Listen up ladies, you've got a snowballs chance in hell in finding your soulmate comedian through online dating. That takes divine intervention and your selfish life hasn't really been a paradigm of selfless compassion to invoke the Hand of Providence. So you're gonna' have to turn Mother Teresa and pray a lot or you're gonna' have to settle for less than that 6'2", 12" pecker, 6 pack abs, male model good looks, emotionally committed, financially stable, great sense of humor, sensitive man you've been holding out for. Forget about giving him your precious virginity -- you gave that to some loser long ago because you were horny and impatient.
You have a better chance of meeting the Easter bunny than this superficial shmuck who was already bagged by his high school sweetheart and commutes from his Long Island starter home to a job he hates and comes home exhausted to a woman he's learning to hate.
So settle for this -- and I will put it in the crassest terms: 5'8", a few extra pounds, easy on the eyes, wit and intelligence that can truly take on the best of them, a poetic, soulful creative soul, a tattoo or two, lots of fucking baggage (yes, there was life before you), immaturity, a sense of adventure that's taken him to near one hundred countries, family oriented, spiritual -- not just in easy words but in actual acts of benevolence and self-sacrifice, a genuine belief in God, 2 PhD's ABD (All But Dissertation -- who has fucking time to finish these things), MA, MBMgmt, loads of awards, moments or sheer genius and absolute stupidity, strength -- physical and of character, and here's the kicker that will leave you breathless: an average income of $XXX,XXX a year. I think I finally got your attention ladies, because escort or prima donna, girl next door or dominatrix, gold-digger or heart of gold, we're all interested in security.
Despite our promising careers we all want to be taken care of like daddy used to take care of us. So secure in the knowledge that I can Dolce & Gabbana your asses from here to eternity, take you anywhere in the world on a whim, stay in 5 star hotels, eat in ZAGAT's top restaurants, get you a fucking maid so you never have to clean or do laundry, get you a personal trainer to keep you looking great, and when gravity takes its toll, pay for botox, lipo, face lifts, implants, eye jobs, ectoscopic forehead lifts and whatever the fuck you need to look good forever.
That fantasy shmuck of yours can't do that. Ever. And one more thing, I will worship the ground you walk on. And bring you fulfillment. Listen to your mom -- settle already and give her the grandchildren she's been bugging you about and so richly deserves after putting up with her picky, ungrateful daughter all these years. But alas I am a refined and proper man and can never say what's really on my mind.
Do I detect a smile? A girlish giggle or two. Can I be your funnybone?YOU: ideally: 22-36; timeless beauty (in/out/sideways/birdseye view); witty and wild; can stifle the Krakatoic rumblings of your womb for 5 years or can do without the fucking monsters altogether; don't need Google to follow me; creative; wants to see 100+ countries; ticklish; can laugh at yourself; jaded but not cynical; need help with your G-spot; spend less than 1/8 of your life on a fucking cell phone; makes more than reservations for dinner; your booty's not so big as to warrant its own zipcode but I don't want one of those boney ass bitches neither; you're willing to be tattooed; you'll try anything once -- and twice if I tell you it's healthy; you know the wealth of a person has little to do with money; passionate; mysterious; have childlike curiosity; enjoy refreshing honesty; are a muse and enjoy reading poetry in bed; walk upright; know at least 18 slang phrases for sex; don't smoke(near me at least); know the sexiest and most erotic thing about any man is his hot, throbbing brain
ME: your fucking nemesis, soulmate, funnybone, worshipper, protector, the cool dude you've been holding out for, that whore in the kitchen and gourmet in the bedroom, milk moustache and Don Juan with a Djembe drum belly, American expat living in Bali -- care to join me? The commutes a bitch, but it's worth it...
THEM: ahhh, fuck'em!