My Craig’s List Lover
It was a wild hair, really.
I was looking through the job listings on Craig’s List and thought “Why not, I’ll check out the personal ads. There’s always some good fodder for the blog.” And sure enough there was: The guy who advertised himself as “The Asian Ride” and posted seminude photos of himself with duck lips. Or the guy who wanted to be Mr. Wrong or at least advertised himself as the-guy-you-should-go-to-while-waiting-around-for-Mr.-Right– the main selling point being the length of his schlong. Honestly, these kind of people amaze me.
And then there was Tall, Dark, and Handsome (that’s what he called himself) looking for some “innocent mischievousness” Ok, not too appealing. But he ended with his desire–specifically– not to share photos and for his respondents to “use their brains” as it was “the sexiest organ.”
Well, that was the perfect set up for The Sassy Spinster. Finally, a man who was less interested in my body and more interested in what I had to say, what I think and feel, what I’ve read and how I see the world.
You know where this is headed, don’t you? You’re probably far more savvy in the ways of personal ads than I. And you know that if happy endings exist outside of fairy tales (questionable), The Sassy Spinster never finds them.
What did I write one time? “If there were an award for finding losers, I would win. Every. Fucking. Time.
Well, if nothing else, I’ve proved that point once again.
Could a man really be interested in a woman’s brain over her body? Perhaps. Oh, sorry, I just laughed out loud. Umm. No. Body always comes first. So if a man doesn’t want to see your picture, it’s because (and you’re so surprised waiting for this response) he’s married. He doesn’t want your picture because then he’ll have to send his picture and then you’ll have cold hard proof what a cheating internet-trolling asshole he really is.
Now, to this man’s credit, he was, after one full day of regular emails back and forth, honest about his “predicament.”
Well, The Sassy Spinster doesn’t play that way. (I think I’ll add that to my list of reasons I’m not married.)
I don’t want someone else’s man. It’s wrong to that woman, whoever she is, to be running around behind her back, however “innocent” he may think it to be. And it’s wrong to me. I deserve a man’s full love and attention (if such a thing exists.)
Which leads me to reflect on the men in Jane Austen novels. Austen is sometimes called the first chic lit author–which I think is a push by some to make her work look like a lesser (read: female) contribution to the literary canon. Either way, I think part of why her novels have endured is because of the fantasy they perpetuate. Sure, the Austen protagonist is surrounded by seedy riff-raff, but eventually she finds a man who will love her and her only.
Women go back to these novels in every generation because we want to believe that fantasy. Because we don’t want to know or think or believe it could be our husband out there trolling for some “innocent mischief.”
Call it my pride, or call it my prejudice; call it my sense or call it my sensibility, but cross him– and every other cheater– off my list.