R. Sachs
Something about the fact that each of us is the product of several billion years of successful reproduction tempts me to believe that there is a kind of providence at work in mating. That for each of us, our perfect mirror exists. For the fat, the ugly, the hopeless, the deranged there is their compensatory fetishist and mate. Me, I’m lazy—or something like it. I have my interests, but I pursue them with the intensity of one watching goldfish. I think about having a perfect sex life, what it might be like, how it work, but I do little to make it a reality. Do I really want to spend that much time brushing my teeth, washing my hair and combing my pubes? And so I have fallen into a kind of romantic complacency—a sort of challenge to the women of the world that they will have to be more desirable than a night alone, or I will remain, prized gem, undiscovered.
To this end, I recently published the following on an anonymous internet personals site:
Dear Possessors of Heavenly Vagina—m4w
I have never in my life deserved the wonderful sex and beautiful soft skin that you have given me. Every single time, Every, Single, Time, has been a blessing and a mysterious wonder. I have asked myself time and again, what it might be that I had done right; made a good joke, combed my hair especially well, worked up an especially good sweat at the gym, and somehow you just knew; but I have never understood how to truly deserve or earn the beauty that is your heavenly vaginas. So Thank you for those heavenly times, and if you should, in your mysterious wisdom, want to grace me with your beautiful sex again—I’ll be at home all night watching Netflix on demand.
By the logic of providence I should be getting laid right now. Who did I think might respond to this litany of loser? No one really, but that was sort of the point—it’s always seemed a perfect irony when a woman chooses me, so why not be upfront about it. I received several spam, but no human responses, and so posted the following slightly improved model:
Social Retard seeks Pity Romance—35 (Boston Area)
I’m a pretty good guy. Good looking, intelligent, funny, gainfully employed, and socially retarded. It’s not that I don’t have friends, or don’t know how to date. I get along okay, but when it comes to meeting a woman and actually talking to her, I’m a total sap. There’s a lot of staring and polite nodding. So if you’re a nerd-pitying, socially competent angel, who wants to take mercy on the truly needy, my stammering, incompetent self is right here waiting and grateful.
The woman who might answer this post? An angel no doubt, provided for me from a gene pool that covers all the angles, that provides for our horny lonliness with a ubiquity of perfect mates.
Shockingly this one did get a response, as follows:
[name redacted] [email-redacted@gmail.com] Mon, Aug 24, 2009 at 3:41 PM To: [name redacted]
Hi,
I noticed your advert on website-redacted and I think you are exactly the kind of guy I am looking for. I am 24 years old, fresh out of college and not looking for anything serious, just a fun buddy if you catch my drift.
I’m down to try anything once, and I like role playing in the bedroom. Also, I live by myself so I can host if that’s needed. Here’s a recent picture of me:
http://link-redacted/picofmes.jpg/
If you’re into it, let me know and we can discuss a good time for us to get together.
~Victory goes to the player who makes the next-to-last mistake~
My head swam. The image was striking—a young brunette with an elegant smile, cute, tanned and perky. And here she was, I had been asking for a ‘Pity Romance’ and she was offering ‘role-playing’ and a ‘fun-buddy’. How did she know that that was really what I needed? Would she really, really want a man like me? I began to think about this. Role play. Wasn’t that really what I was doing here, playing out one side of a fantasy relationship. A sort of nebbishy Woody Allen character without the humor or career success. And she of course could be playing one of the many perfect young things that have glommed to Woody, only not smart or wealthy. I mean, providence always seems to work in film.
