In April I replied, sort of, to a personal ad on Craigslist. It wasn't an actual reply, because I was dating Jeff and falling in love with the air force guy at the time, but I wanted to tell him I flagged him.
The ad: I like books. Really, I do. I read many, many books, and carry many, many books with me. However, as a means of socializing, I’m finding books lack certain important qualities. For one thing, books don’t laugh at my jokes, not even the really good ones. And when you read a book in a bar, and somebody is being an asshole in an amusing, my I’m glad I’m not that much of an ass kind of way, you can't talk to your book about the inherent superiority you and the book share over that person. And when the book you are sleeping with pokes you in the ribs in the middle of the night, its always painful and never cute. So I’m thinking, I should find someone with whom to do stuff. A girl, I’m thinking. Reading, to be sure, but also other things. Talking. Walking. Making out, although most likely not on the first date. That kind of thing. Aside from the aforementioned books, I don’t really have hobbies, but here are some things I like: I like playing pool, and playing hooky from work. I like computers, and really intense conversations over whisky and cigarettes. I like the taste of whisky and cigarettes on someone’s breath. I like the Clash, and Bach, and the Magnetic Fields and bands I’ve never heard of. I like my job, mostly. I like Chicago, but I’m kind of new here. I like making out, as you most likely deduced. I like bright interesting people who are interested in the world around them who get told they think to much and hate being told they think to much because, really don’t we have to drive up the average and anyway what’s so bad about trying to work out the problems of the world at three in the morning? Two bright kids like us. I like trains and airplanes and airports and train stations but not cars or parking lots. I like reading to people and I like being read to. I don’t see any purpose using a common one-syllable word when an obscure 4-syllable word can be pressed to serve. I like people who think my unabashed geekyness is cute. So. I suppose the dull stuff is now in order. I’m 26. I might be 5’11, and I might weigh 153 lbs, but I also might not. Persons do not find it impossible to believe that those statistics are correct when I vouchsafe them, in any event. I’m a whiter shade of pale. I wear glasses. I have brown eyes. And you should be: a human female, of at least 22 years of age and probably not exceeding 35 years of age, although I’m fairly flexible. If you really want one I have picture I can send, albeit not a great one; I don’t take a lot of self portraits. Although you shouldn’t necessarily take that to mean that I’m not a narcissist. I don’t care much if you have a picture --while its true that for certain classes of fun interpersonal activity attraction matters, but no snapshot in the world is going to answer that question.
Subj: your craigslist ad
Date: 4/8/2003
To: anon@craigslist.org
I just wanted you to know I flagged this ad. Because it is the BEST personal ad I have ever read. I don't think think this qualifies as a reply, although, I suppose that is debatable, since I probably wouldn't have bothered to write you if I weren't within in your parameters (and you within mine, as far as I can tell).
Do with this email what you will. Delete it, look upon it with a self-satisfied (narcissistic smile?), laugh at the fact that people still use AOL as a means of internet connection, print it out, saturate it with olive oil and rub it all over your naked body, even reply to it if you want- however, I can't guarantee that by the time you do I won't have a) forgotten who you are; b)cancelled AOL as my internet service provider; c) become pregnant; d) fallen into a deep sleep induced by overindulgence in tequila and guacamole; e) all of the above.
Just so you know.
He replied:
That is so the best reply I've ever gotten to anything I've written. Now I'm going to have to try and keep up my apparently high standards. Dammit.
This is what I get for setting the bar too high. I shall simply have to display coping skills.
Thank you, in any event. It made me laugh out loud repeatedly, and its not even eleven AM. I should still be glaring balefully at my co-workers. Well, I am still glaring, but I keep smirking, so, which rather spoils the effect.
I don't think think this qualifies as a reply,
Actually I'm pretty sure it does.
RESOLVED: This email qualifies as a reply...
although, I suppose that is debatable, since I probably wouldn't have bothered to write you if I weren't within in your parameters (and you within mine, as far as I can tell).
So what exactly are your parameters? And what tools are you using to measure? Are calipers going to be involved in any way?
Do with this email what you will. Delete it, look upon it with a self-satisfied (narcissistic?) smile, laugh at the fact that people still use AOL as a means of internet connection, print it out, saturate it with olive
oil and rub it all over your naked body, even reply to it if you want- however, I can't guarantee that by the time you do I won't have a) forgotten who you are; b)cancelled AOL as my internet service provider; c) become pregnant; d) fallen into a deep sleep induced by overindulgence in tequila and guacamole; e)all of the above.
Just so you know.
Wow, you have way more exciting tuesday mornings than I do.
Well, I don't see why I should have to pick just one of those options. I think I will both reply, and saturate the email in olive oil. Of course, I'd have done that anyway; I do that with all my personal correspondence.
But any way.
Hi. I'm James. How do you do?
Subj: Re: your craigslist ad
Date: 4/8/2003
To: james@hotmail.com
Chay-mmmmmmmmzzz,
Wow. Okay that is DEFINITELY enough flattery for one morning. The best reply to anything you've ever written? Should I be excited, or is that one of those things like my uncle always says: "You're my favorite neice" when I am actually his ONLY neice?
By the way. I should say this. I got a 660 on the verbal half of my SAT. However, it seems that whilst (whilst!) typing emails, all my literary ability is suspended. I am liable to misuse common words and appear to have no punctuational skills whatsoever. I assure you that this is not the case.
The preceding paragraph is my version of a release form. Please sign and return the following:
I, James, if that is my real name, hereby release correspondent from any obligation to scrutinize her grammar or punctuation. This includes, but is not limited to, misplaced parentheses and superfluous words.
I clearly went back and re-read my last e-mail.
And I have clearly had too much coffee this morning!!
You accrued approximately one and a half points on my personal Male Scale in your e-mail- one for use of the word "balefully," and a half for the fact that it was used in combination with "glaring." Congratulations!! The way it works is, once you make it to 100, then you can make out with me. Some lucky fellows make it to 100 in a matter of minutes just by doing any of the following: telling me they think it's no big deal that I'm still working on my undergrad degree after six years, telling me I'm pretty(or really... any gratuitous flattery), getting me drunk.
So. Chop chop. Get to it.
I should warn you though, that use of the word "behoove," the phrase "And how!" (except for in certain written cases where sounding snobby is the objective), and ANY description of one's own bodily fluids/excrement, with the exception of saliva and tears, (or in the case of a REALLY good story) within the first week of acquaintance will result in an immediate -100 deduction. Few men have ever climbed out of that hole.
That's a joke. Sorta.
My parameters: over age 25, literate.
I know that seems really picky. More than one of my friends has told me that they think that the fact that I have so many things I look for in a man is evidence that I am afraid of intimacy, or seeking to dominate my partner by demanding that he fit into some incredibly narrow category. But I say, I'm just selective, you know? I'm a fine piece of ass and I deserve to be with a man who can read.
I know I haven't given you much new material to work with, but a real writer would be able to improvise. That is a challenge, and also an indirect way to test my theory that you wanna be (or are) a writer.
Hi... I'm Maggie. Enchanted, I'm sure.
Subj: Re: my craigslist ad
Date: 4/8/2003 1:02:48 PM Central Daylight Time
From: james@hotmail.com (James)
To: Maggie@aol.com
Congratulations!! The way it works is, once you make it to 100, then you can make out with me. Some lucky fellows make it to 100 in a matter of minutes just by doing any of the following: telling me they think it's no big deal that I'm still working on my undergrad degree after six years, telling me I'm pretty(or really... any gratuitous flattery), getting me drunk.
Cool. A goal. I like having goals. But how will I know? I shall simply have to trust to luck and my unfortunately poor judgement in these matters, and strive onward regardless. Or you could keep giving me a running tally. That would be cool. Then I could just look at the tally and know whats going on.
I will save the gratutious flattery for an unexpected moment, so that it will catch you off guard and hopefully make you blush. I would never dream, however, of holding the amount of time it takes you to get an undergradute degree, or any other degree against you. If you, in your turn, resolve not to mock me for being a twenty-six year old college drop out computer geek.
So. Chop chop. Get to it.
I should warn you though, that use of the word "behoove," the phrase "And how!"
I'm trying to think. I cannot concieve of a set of circumstances under which I would use the phrase "and how" in a non-illustrative fashion. In addition to its other manifold flaws, its cliche, and I think we all know how I feel about cliche.
Behoove... I don't think I've ever used that one either, although its hard to be certain. Any sentence involving behoove is deeply obnoxious, and I occasionally find it usefull to be obnoxious, for one reason or another.
(except for in certain written cases where sounding snobby is the objective), and ANY description of one's own bodily fluids/excrement, with the exception of saliva and tears, (or in the case of a REALLY good story)
Okay, I don't talk about my bodily fluids very often to be honest. It just doesn't arise that often, and any conversation it does arise in is likely not one I wish to be part of.
That said, one of my best recent stories involves me bleeding all over North Clark Street. Well, not so much all over. But bleeding was involved. Its also my one of the better things I've ever written, so I have to sit really hard on the urge to recycle it here.
My parameters: over age 25, literate.
I know that seems really picky.
It does, really. I don't know that I can measure up to the challenge.
Still, I shall soldier onward. Okay, I think thats the second time in as many emails that I've used that construction, which means that I need to cut this short, shortly and get more caffeine in me, because my tendency to get grandiloquent is about to creep up and bite me in the ass.
I know I haven't given you much new material to work with, but a real writer would be able to improvise. That is a challenge, and also an indirect way to test my theory that you wanna be (or are) a writer.
Well, know, I'm a network engineer who wants to be a part of the staff of This American Life. This is unlikely, but a boy can dream.
Hi... I'm Maggie. Enchanted, I'm sure.
Charmed, of a certainty.
Best,
James
After all that I wrote him back and told him that, to be honest, I wasn't really trying to hook up with him or anything, since I was already sort of involved in a weird triangle that didn't feel good. And so he wrote back about bleeding all over Clark Street and breaking his leg, and I laughed at it in an electronic sort of way, and then we never really talked again.
Too bad though, he seemed like a really cool guy. I love funny people.
© beotch at
3:33 a.m.
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