Bachelor Number One pissed off both Margie and me. "Sartre" sent us both the exact same email, word for word.
"Maybe a match? Ahhh impetuous youth. Like them a bit young don't you my dear? Will a striking man of 25 suit your needs? Would love to take this to the next level. Write if you can, I have a feeling that you are also secretly wicked as well..."
Now, I love Margie, and Margie loves me, but even in the midst of a friendly competition a girl likes to feel special. Was this electric existentialist sending the same email to every woman on the net? Hmph. Indignant, we decided to both show off our humanities degrees and annoyance at his cadhood by sending him the same response.
yes I like them young and *fresh* if you know what I mean. Tell me more about the next level. Is it Being, or Nothingness??
Sartre asked me what the wildest thing I have ever done is, and I responded by telling him about fucking a professor on his office desk when I was in grad school, but I didn't get too graphic. I also wrote it in the third person ("now you tell angora something naughty"), which I thought was a sexy kind of twist that might give me the edge over Margie, who was starting to have a crisis of conscience anyway. But Sartre's reply was kind of boring. Although he got in the word "ravage," it was pretty run of the mill moonlight sex stuff, and I gave up on the poor boy. Maybe someday he will find his Simone, but not with moi.
BACHELOR NUMBER TWO: SENOR AMOR
1. Going AWOL from the Coast Guard in Veracruz, Mexico and spending Christmas Eve and Christmas Day 1976 in the "disreputable" part of town out of my mind on cheap tequila and pharmaceutical mexican amphetamines........ Result: 2 weeks in the brig.
2. Immediately after getting a great gig with the Hall & Oates road crew in 1983, allowed myself to be seduced by the drummer's nympho (but cute) girlfriend. Result: Fired after 4 shows.
3. Told girlfriend (she was a bitch) I was going out for a few beers. Instead got drunk and flew to Maui the same night. Came back a week later. Result: We broke up........! (no kidding)
Hello! In three short paragraphs, we've got a Hall & Oates reference, he calls a woman a bitch, and .... well, draw your own conclusions from number 1. I had visions of doing some guy in a
crew cut in his dress whites while a 15 year old nymphette (but cute) chopped lines and we all listened to "Private Eyes." El Tejano offered to met me at the Temple Bar, and was actually pretty charming, the most tempting of all the Match.Com boys, but I just couldn't get that image out of my mind.
OH, THE GUILT
Aside from that interesting insight into Canadian dormitory behavior, I'd have to agree with her. It kind of makes you wonder when you are getting email from 23 year old virgins. Maybe I should give them Lisa Palac's phone number. (Just kidding! Hi Lisa!)
HIM: My desires are quite specific: I seek an attractive, slim, submissive woman to serve me. This will take a special woman who is not afraid to surrender herself totally in return forthe pleasures only a truly submissive woman can know. Are you her? Think you might want to find out? Email me.
ME: angora awaits your command
HIM: My command at this time is simple and direct... I must know more about you before I can deem you worthy of my special attention. If this seems harsh, you are not ready to partake in my particular desires. I will not tell you the specific information to provide. Rather, you must determine what is pertinent. Be warned, however, that I expect to see detailed, explicit information concerning your emotional and physical needs and desires as well as physical appearance. Remember, you must be willing to surrender fully to me...that means on every level, not just sexually. Only then can you experience true freedom and pleasure.
ME: angora has deep red hair. angora has unusual eyes: they are green, with a blue rim and a brown spot. angora is very very pale, and has soft, silky skin. angora needs things to be a little rough. angora needs a space where she is not in charge.
Eventually the game grew tiresome. How come Margie and I were toiling over these damn letters while the Stimboys played endless games of MechWarrior? My secret hope that Steve would send us funny email under a pseud was cruelly dashed, as the virgins and barhoppers continued to pester me.