I’m assuming these men are employing what a friend of mine calls the scatter-shot approach, in which the wily hunter fires off blindly with the hope that something, somewhere will stick. Surely a few do. Surely someone out there must be thrilled to the soles of her feet to be the recipient of a stranger’s digits (home, work and cell) with the added injunction to call right now, an offer which could only be improved upon by the addition of a set of free cutlery.
(I’ve just spent ten minutes staring off into space wishing someone would do that just that. Be assured that the second it happens I will dash off the most triumphant of blog entries.)
As the number of supplicants has increased, I’ve noted an inverse relationship in their (how should I say this?) apparent dating desirability. Or maybe my finickiness, never low to begin with, has shot skyward with the perceived glut? In either case, I’m inclined to post a message strongly discouraging contact from anyone who:
2. Tells me they’d like to get together because of boredom. Television is a good alternative to boredom. So is reading. Or cleaning out the kitchen cabinets. Or organizing your hand tools. Trying to get another living, breathing human being that you’ve just met to go to bed with you is not.
3. States in his email that he’s looking to get fucked by a 9″ – 10″ black cock. As much as I support that wish, it’s simply not in my power to grant it.
4. Propositions me for sex as a way to blow off stress from work. Dude. You need a squishy ball, not a new girlfriend.
5. Asks to meet in an RV. Which he’s just driven here from California, and must drive back again tomorrow. And which can rock with our passion for a scant two hours. Because after the fucking, he must attend a funeral.
Or is it just me?