Tuesday, August 14, 2012

Looking for love on Craigslist #15

Don't click this ad unless you are divinely-ordained female perfection. m4w

'Allo, ladies. No dreadful dames, please. Successful vixens, femme fatales, queening femdoms, entrepreneurs, and singles with spine only need apply. Pansexual open-relationship no-strings-attached burlesque show performers also acceptable. Most of all you must be a winner. Why? Opposites attract. Sexually-transmitted diseases are not neat, but we live in the MTV generation and despite being an old soul I realize some sacrifices must be made to honor the influence of popular culture, so if you have gonorrhea you should at least be capable of balancing it by say, making a killer ravioli. Drug use is equally deplorable, but if you have access to Xanax that may be a plus because I need an addiction less fattening than Mr. Pibb. Are you sopping wet like cardboard left by a dumpster after a thunderstorm? Can I call your g-spot the higgs boson while I try to find it? If so, you might have just found your lucky star.

Despite these high standards I keep an open-mind, and by that I mean you can be fat or ugly if you have character. If god blessed you with bad luck and you are a skinny girl with a bird nose just deal with it. Big noses are often attractive, but that's one pick up line that would never work. Have some damn self-esteem. A big nose is novelty. Got it? Big noses are a turn on. They're only a turn off when you aren't allowed to say you look like Pyramidhead from Silent Hill without sparking a domestic dispute. Most guys would fuck a mermaid, it's what's on the inside that counts. The cliche goes that guys will bang anything and what that roughly translates to in reality-terms is that men will give any woman a chance. Women also spout off about men only being interested in physical characteristics, but if there's a criteria how in the hell does that spell a willingness to fuck anything? The truth entails men are sensitive and not shallow. As such, disfigurements, albinos, and those people who look like dalmatians are fair game.

Any dame in my good graces must be down to the third degree. Whether it's making me popcorn, or dressing up like Robin Hood or being waterboarded with urine. The keyphrase is "go for it." Our safety word will be "more." The sanctity of our love is not secured until you're sporting a crimson and ivory yin-yang necklace filled with my blood and semen (not to be extreme, just to one-up Angelina Jolie).We are not pure in the eyes of the lord until the moment you've climaxed with a Time Crisis lightgun firing off inside you. Our bond is not cemented a second before you're contractually obligated to defecate on my grave on a regular basis, until the excrement seeps through the soil and worms to my rotting corpse and our collective DNAs coagulate into new, cell-sized sentient lifeforms and scream, "Free at last! Free at last!" Also it's a real dealbreaker if I don't get to call you "sugarbear."

You might want to know about me. I'm a hyper-creative guy with no drive. Again, with the yin must come the yang. The world is like Silly Putty. Everyone's given the same basic amount. What you choose to do with it is your own business. Look, you may think being born into a middle class home in America could never being as bad as say, being born starving in Africa. This is where you're wrong. Psychological stress of the world's ills lay heaviest on those who know most, in the form of empathic, phantom pain. Starving sounds like a stressful life, but so is thinking about that kid while I watch a pirate copy of the latest Jason Statham hit. You think it's easy knowing Libya's in shambles and Greece is facing financial meltdown while I scour Target for Spiderman-themed Poptarts? Well, it isn't. And as Spiderman said, "With great power comes great responsibility." Those kids may know starvation, but they don't know the spiritual starvation of wanting to end all wars but being too engrossed by War: The Video Game part III to do anything about it.

I seek love but it's a far distance from necessity. I need love like third world children need Xboxes. It's fun but where the next meal will come from is a more pressing concern. I need love to the degree I need to ride bumper cars again, which is very little, but if I knew it were no longer an option the sadness would drive me to ram children with my car. There past a distant fog, love comes up like the sun over the horizon, summoning you to its beauty and warmth, but if you got close to it it would kill you after burning off your stupid face. You want to be in the vicinity of love not in direct contact. Otherwise love is like being held hostage at the hands of inevitable loss. This is why love is a harrowing tango of hot and cold because you're sewing yourself a second head. One must proceed with caution. Yes, it would be nice to find that special girl that lets you drive Hotwheels through her pubic hair. Yes, it would be lovely to find a dime who keeps a warm cherry pie on the windowsill. But what is the price of admission? What if true love comes at the cost of your beliefs, or your dreams, or admitting Scrubs is good television, or not changing your legal name to "Dragline Excavator."

Love is madness and opposites can attract. The cliches carry weight. This is why love is spellbinding because what's best for someone is sometimes illogical. It weighs in the same as the universe and its slow-burning chaos. We assume purpose in our lives because we're alive, but if we didn't exist we wouldn't know what we had missed. We persist despite the pain because the balance with pleasure makes it seem compelling. The reality is that existence is fruitless and we're forever part of a pointless torment like Sisyphus pushing that boulder up a hill. So compare being at the top of the hill, gasping for air and breathing a a sigh of relief, to the temporary respite from terror that brings an illusion of purpose to a needless endeavor. And this is why no one's ever satisfied and hearts are always filled with longing, because too much stability is deadening and too stimulation breeds anxiety. And the need for new sensations take hold until you're prowling the depraved depths in a pacifier and your wife's wedding dress just to feel something.

At the end of the day I don't ask for much, just truth, kindness, and that you have an elastic asshole of a princess-like quality. What that means who knows but the romantic imagery is hard to shake. Speaking of assholes I'm not one, I'm indifferent. People often confuse these two overlapping attitudes, the distinction is indifference is not a crime. There's a paradox when you try to penalize people who don't care, because you could also penalize those who care for not fixing the uncaring. Ultimately that thinking cancels itself out, hence my indifference. Bukowski said love is a fog that burns at the first daylight of reality. Well, love is a fog that burns at the sight of that Krispy Kreme "ready now" sign. And the sugary glaze represents the sadness involved in getting what you want, whether it's a donut of a vulva. Really I'm not an asshole. So if you feel this might be love, send over a macromode photo of that vulva. Nothing perverse in mind, just so I may imagine the birth of our future children. No, no, no. No more cheap jokes. Also I look like a supervillain Dave Matthews oh fuck it this is hopeless.

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