Here’s the deal: I’m looking for love but I don’t have to time to fuck around trolling for pussy in bars. I work in finance. Yes, I have money. Yes, my apartment building has a doorman. I’m 29, 6’1″, brown-haired, 4-pack abs (yes, that’s right, I’m in shape, but it’s what I got—sue me), more than little bit bored and lonely.
The proposition: 2 dates.
Date 1: I take you to dinner. Sushi preferred but steak will do. I’ll pay. We meet, we talk, we see if we’re compatible. We’ll catch a cab back to your place where I’ll give you a kiss on your cheek while the taxi idles and then you’ll go upstairs. If you had fun, you email me, then we have date 2. If you don’t, whatever. You got a free dinner; hopefully I had some pleasant company.
Date 2: Meet at a bar. Get shithoused. You pretend you barely know me (even less than you do), take me back to your apartment like I’m a stranger you’re about to make mistakes with.
Then, make those mistakes.
Don’t worry, I won’t sleep over.
If both dates 1 and 2 go well, I figure we got as good of a chance as anyone. I want someone to take care of and someone who is going to take care of me. If you’re willing to give me a shot, hit me up. Attach a full-body photo (no headshots, cheaters).
Thanks for the call, why didn’t you leave a number?
If you liked the sound of my voice so much, why didn’t you leave a number? I miss you. I want you to hear my voice and tell me whether you’ve still got that beard. I know it’s only Wednesday and you waited the proper number of days, and I appreciate that propriety, but now you’ve made a terrible mistake. I can’t call you back and I NEED to call you back and if you didn’t like our date enough to call a second time to see if just-in-case I was just too busy to respond and not blowing you off than I’ll never hear from you again. Please, please read this. Please just this once be the kind of guy who reads this kind of thing and call me again. I want to run my hands through your beard.
date: Sat, Sep 27, 2009 at 12:36 AM
subject: Fwd: OMG THIS IS S*** CUTE
You need to see this video I got from my cousin. I click the link from the email, like I always do, and I’m confronted with the cutest thing I’ve seen in my life. Picture this: there’s an orangutan riding an elephant that spots a hound dog. I know, right? Suddenly, the orangutan leaps off the elephant and wraps the dog up in this huge hug. When the keepers try to leave the dog behind, it follows them home. It tracks the orangutan so that they can be together, and when reunited, they happily roll around on the grass together. The humans kick the dog out. It somehow comes back. I’ve never seen two things more in love, such determination to make things work despite the circumstances, the difficulties. Hell, the whole different species thing you’d think would be a barrier. The orangutan feeds the dog half of its food and never seems to get tired of whatever the dog is bringing to the table. And it got me thinking. If this orangutan could see this dog from twenty feet away and feel such affection, if this orangutan, a fucking monkey, could treat that dog so well, then does it really seem like I was asking for that much?