The Want Ad
This is addressed to all the people who answered or may be thinking of answering the personal ad I placed in volume two, number fifteen of this newspaper, two weeks ago Friday.
First: my apologies to the huge bartender with the voice and the light-hearted dark-skinned advertising man. If either of you had called me back, I might not be writing this retraction of my ad, even though I will soon be too busy to date much, but why didn’t you call back?
But to the others — which include the two terrifying sisters; The under 18’s and the over 60’s; The numerous ones who dailed my number and hung up as soon as I said “hello”; The 35 or 40 of you who made dates with me and never showed up — including the one who complained his body was so powerful he couldn’t control it anymore; The desperate wife-seekers, the already married, the one was so one-sided that he could think of nothing but sex and then had the gall to ask me if his nationality was the reason I wouldn’t sleep with him…
The many who couldn’t get it up when I was agreeable and the many who could (and did) when I was not; The pleasant young foreigner who turned out to be the private property of his gigantic girlfriend; The ones who was so grotesque in their appearance that I couldn’t possibly get pass their faces to even consider a relationship with them, especially sexual…
The Sharks and the Geeks and the Sadists, the latter category that I had specifically stated I didn’t want; The ones who wanted endless dirty talk; The ones who wanted to be punished; The ones who could only boast about the size of their bank-rolls and/or their equipment — and this definitely includes the teacher who said “All the kids want my stuff…” The business-man who had an adjective for every letter in his last name (“R” is for “Rich”); The pathetic little husband who was nothing more than a vegetable and his vegetarian wife …
The ones and they were many who said, My name is so and so and so, how far do you go?
The 300 pound lady judge who screamed abuse at me; The transvestite who wanted me to support him; The numerous young studs who had nothing to offer besides the negative result of their god damn blood tests… The diminutive actor and all the other short ones… The astronomer who cried like a baby and said he’d been betrayed by every star he ever knew; The fanatic priest who wanted me to confess to things I’d never even dreamed of; The worn-out soldiers, the burned-out poets, the pumped up jacks and the used up kids… The racists, including the one at whose place I left my white sweater and I’d rather cut off my right thumb then go back for it. The drunks, junkies, crack and coke heads… The multitude of liars and especially the nice ones who never called back… To all of you I say:
Just forget my phone number, I don’t need all the hassles! I’ll be starting school next month and I just don’t want to be bothered… So don’t hold your breath, any of you.
Sincerely, the underweight platinum blonde…
Have a nice day…