Wednesday, September 8, 2010

Looking for love on Craigslist #6

Sane man looking for a hairy girl to call his own. m4w

Eh, ol' girl. Eh, shorty. What's up? Picture this: me&you, side-by-side in bed in my parent's basement, the flickering glow of a television in the background, showcasing that black & white foreign hotness, that Bergman that Tarkovsky that Herzog that gushy stuff. Like Last Tango in Paris, that mutual self-loathing and despair we can share. Two beings, just surviving on butter, rats, and orgasms.

Birdies talk like they don't want no drama, but you do. What's a story without conflict? What good's a story with a foreshadowed happy ending? Safe bets are for the dullest of dead folk. I'm a romantic. Though I can't afford fancy chocolates, I'll eat Swedish Fish off of your ankles and breasts, I can see it so clearly babe. I'll steal flowers from the church garden for you, God wants this shit.

I'm looking for a down-ass chick. You don't gotta be pretty, but you can't be looking like a cross between Gollum and Hunter Hearst Helmsley neither. I'ma be straight up, you don't even need a nice behind or an exquisite rack, but if you lack both of them you'd better down for anal and being called Harry Potter. I mean, I gotta get turned on somehow, right?

As a feminist, hair turns me on. You can have hairy legs, underarms, a beard, but if you're on that There Will be Blood / Rollie Fingers tip, you're not drinking up my milkshake. Short hair is great, not showering is in, androgyny is fair game, I'd probably rail Gerard Way if he let me call her Tonya. Keep hair on that derriere and I'll lick that asshole like a Flintstones push pop.

Personality is what counts. Irony beats sarcasm. Having a pulse and no AIDS usually attracts me to a female. A real girl can have fun with only a set of jackstones, anything less and you may as well be a Real Doll. I'll take anything short of a Suicide Girl, contrived uniqueness and ironic ukulele ownership.

Myself? I'm a boy with a little swagger, and others cop what little of it I got. I'm working on my transformation from Clive Owen to Don Draper. I'm nerdy but not timid. Not to get too personal, but I like staring deep into a woman's eyes as I come hot as embers inside of her. I look like an animal, but a sexy one, and I've seen girls get down with dogs on the internet which leaves me optimistic. I'm also a very serious person.

Why does romance gotta be difficult? All I'm asking really is for a peaceful existence and melancholic moments of nostalgia. To watch The Fox and The Hound with you, or whatever you liked as a kid. To hear about how you went from grade school to the goth teen you are today. To be next to you in public and smooch, getting all romantic with the tongues and making the patrons inside of that Subway restaurant uncomfortable.

And don't get me wrong prettiness and style can make up for flaws like a lack of intellect, antisocial behavior, arrogance, etc. But you'd better be a pretty young blonde looking like Dylan Sprouse of The Suite Life: On Deck and loan that face for a milk bath on the nightly. I wanna own that visage. Hit me up.

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