Eons ago it was once suggested that I place a personal ad as a way of meeting people. I was aghast. Personal ads were for losers or people anxious to meet a serial killer. The friend suggested I try New York magazine's last page. I called the magazine and learned that a personal ad with the magazine ran about 200 bucks a word! At that price I decided that serial killers didn't have that sort of pocket money to invest in stalking. Instead I found the New York Press, a free weekly newspaper which offered free personal ads. At that time people wrote actual letters in response to an ad. They sent the letter to the newspaper and the newspaper forwarded the letters on to the person placing the ad. I sure as heck wish it was still done that way. The caliber of person who writes a letter shoots up 100% in comparison to online dating through e-mail. There is no comparison. I don't know if you can still write letters in response to an ad placed but if anyone knows of a publication that does so, please let me know.
Over time I concocted various ads in an attempt to fine tune the outcome but it was that first ad I placed which I remember most vividly. I received letters from the incarcerated, from people with handwriting that looked like REDRUM - (written in red ink with a creepy, jerky penmanship that resembled blood dripping from a wall), from men that were classically good looking, to men that needed serious reality checks on choosing pictures meant to influence strange women. There were men who wanted to share my clothing (if I was so inclined), and men who hand wrote the exact same letter over and over again, not realizing I was the same woman who had simply placed a different ad. But I also received letters from men who took the time to express their feelings and write about their dreams of who I might be. Men who divulged their relationship history: where they thought they'd succeeded and where they imagined they'd made mistakes. All of the letters were heartfelt and captivating and most of the letters, with very few exceptions, included two or more handwritten pages filled with the hopes, intentions and thoughts of some pretty amazing men. Nothing can replace a handwritten letter. It was a bit of Christmas when those envelopes arrived.
And then there were the dates.
My very first date was with a popular DJ on the New York radio scene. I was so nervous with anticipation that I vomited into the gutter right before our meeting in Washington Square Park. I can't remember ever being that nervous. I was completely unable to quell the jelly inside. We strolled to Chinatown where he took me for a meal and where I unceasingly, and with feigned concentration, fiddled with my fingers as though they held the answer to where Jimmy Hoffa might be found. He genuinely tried to get to know me but I was paralyzed with the fear. I remember him calling me days later to tell me he had returned to his old flame and I remember thinking: Thank God and I couldn't blame him. Anything would have been better than me on a first date. I was retarded, if you're asking. I really can't say how I mustered the courage to try again, but I did, and with each passing date I became increasingly more at ease.
I dated a baritone opera singer who performed with The Met. He invited me to one of his practice sessions and while ensconced on a fluffy couch he sang for me a series of librettos. I became great friends with Paul who was one of the funniest men I've ever met yet I never saw him laugh. He was the man whose job it was to write lame blurbs chronicling the intellectual pursuits underneath pictures of women who pose in nudie magazines. I've met more cross dressers than I care to admit to and men who begged me to boss them around- (it sounds like a fun, easy job but I really don't care to practice being mean). I guess I was a little surprised by how many people share this cross dressing fetish. The Japanese, the old, the creepy, incredibly young people, the cute… I imagine the list is likely endless. I mean if you asked me what I'd thought I would get in terms of a grab bag, I don't think I would have come up with cross dressers. But why not? Cross dressers are people too… (My guess is that people with extreme fetishes have a difficult time finding like minded people. In my experience they seem to answer any and all ads in an attempt to get lucky. The fetish is the focus, not you. You can be almost anyone as long as you fulfill the fetishistic need). (If I'm wrong, don't be writing me letters with details about your fetish).
I met a man from England, who had a friend, who got me a job. I dated Chris, a lovely man, who wasn't for me, but I introduced him to a girlfriend I thought he'd get on with - they went on to marry and have twins. I met E who changed my life. And I met a few cheap egomaniacs whom I viscerally disliked, but all in all I would say I only met about five truly despicable men. I've had first dates at museums, driving upstate to see the autumn leaves, ice skating, riding The Staten Island Ferry, picking out toys at F.A.O. Schwarz at Christmastime, getting our hair cut side by side with my first date at SUPERCUTS, walking across The Brooklyn Bridge, the Old Viaduct, apple picking, buying two chickens and competing as to who makes a better chicken. I met a gaggle of ivy league grads, I saw every sort of imaginable apartment from: how can you live in this place? To: how can you afford this place? I was introduced to the work of Louis-Ferdinand Celine and Hubert Selby, Jr. I spent 5 years sharing Thanksgiving with Timothy always bringing my much requested chocolate mousse for his ever evolving band of friends. Handfuls of people where introduced to other people I knew so that we all could enrich and expand our circle of friends. The calibre of people I met were wonderful. They were clever, absorbing, engaging, and keen to meet someone just like me. The fallacious notion that people who place or answer personal ads are somehow different or suspect, is a myth. Socially it was perhaps the highlight of my life. A time when I met the most flavorful of people.
I like men who some might consider ugly. I like a mug that takes ages to absorb. A face that takes a good 6 years just to acquaint myself with the chin. I like a man with a large nose. I like his nose bumping my face as he comes in for a kiss. Unlike Ivan Yakovievich I find something pleasantly amusing about engaging with a nose when I know lips are soon to follow. I like the landing part where you navigate just so interlocking the puzzle pieces of your body. He is a renaissance man but has plenty of time to make a woman laugh. This man has spent time perfecting the ways in which to seduce a woman. He knows he can't simply walk by with a smart outfit or an air of arrogance. I like the Charles Bukowski's and the F. Murray Abraham's. I find something charming about Flavor Flav (though he's not my type) and as a teenager it was a Telly Savalas poster which graced my bedroom wall. I fall in love with character and éclat. My ears tingle when I hear the language I speak presented with panache. When I hear the whimsical and the ridiculous. When a man remembers something I've said and returns it to me translated into his love. I like a man that giggles and can think of nothing better than a laugh. If he can fix something, nothing specific, he should know I have my eyes on him. If he's quiet and shy then he thrives because I am not.
From Redditt: Speaking as a very ugly man, I can tell you dress well, err on the side of too much hygiene, be funny and interesting (can't stress this enough, read a book if you have to), and don't be an asshole (no one likes an ugly asshole).
People are more forgiving of severe ugliness than we generally give credit for. If a hideous monster like me can attract ladies, seriously anyone can).
Send me somebody who's strong and someone sincere…*
* The Same Situation - Joni Mitchell. The actual lyrics are written: Send me somebody who's strong and somewhat sincere… I don't like that 'somewhat' business.
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