Sexless in the City

Sometimes reading romance novels doesn’t quite prepare you for a love life...

For this 30-year-old urbanite, love is always a misadventure: The Harvard Lickwit, Hippie the Groper, the 5% Man, and the Ad Weasel. These and many other men wander in and out of her life — but never her bed.

Sunday, October 03, 2004

Alarming news

... And I don’t mean a certain NY-based political blog. Being the internet nut I’ve turned into these days, I of course checked email upon returning home from church, failed errands, and table time at not one but two Starbucks coffee-serving venues. And this is what I found, directed to Anna in her not-Anna Broadway guise (no reference to either of my blogs, at least):
From: “Richard”
To: “Swing_lover”
Subject: Thought this might interest you
Date: Sun, 3 Oct 2004 14:55:35 -0400

Hi - I’m a successful, handsome, married man in my late 30s. I’m looking for a young woman that needs financial assistance while pursuing her education or career goals. You should be 20 - 34 years old and have a great body that you love to show off. No pictures or sex required. Interested?
While I do confess to the charge of possessing a sexually ambiguous username (Anna channels the MSN IM angel-smiley) ... in my defense I have never hinted at seeking compromising escapes from unemployment. And furthermore, my username is way pre-porn spam days. Hello, swing dance craze of late-1990s. But you could’ve guessed that, right?

Other than flattering email from Reader Frasier, and dodging a second muffin-hour encounter with Bill Murky, it’s been a fairly quiet weekend. Monday morning is at this point totally open, though, so the much-teased write-up of Old School really is in the offing. If nothing else, my extended-viewing fees compel me (red face here).

A tall one with ...
While you’re waiting, here’s some of Frasier’s prize-winner email response. And don’t miss the neighbor-sex, fake-oh deli tale with mustard, below.
From: Frasier
Subject: Re: Congratulations, first-prize winner!


High fives all round!!!!

Yeaaaahhhhh baby!!!!!

I NEVER win anything .... and then this week I snaffle the office sweep of over $300 on the AFL Grand Final (think Super Bowl) and now I’ve taken out first prize in a global competition conducted by the International Woman of Internet Porn. Be still my beating heart! (And on the premise that these things come in threes, here’s to the success of my ticket in the lottery to be drawn tonight.)

My choice of prize? Anna, daaahling, no gentleman could possibly express a preference for GMail over a cinnamon roll lovingly prepared by your own [see September contest question] hands. I agree you can’t mail it. As you rightly point out, it would be inedible by the time it wended its way to Marvellous Melbourne but in any case, and even more to the point, the ever vigilant quarantine authorities of OZ would cut it off at the pass.

So, with your permission, I’ll collect the cinnamon roll the next time I’m in NYC. That aint likely to be any time soon but my job (on a travel industry mag) has regularly landed me in the Big Apple over the years and will surely take me there again.

By the time I make it, you’ll likely be married to a Southern Baptist preacher and pregnant with a baby for Bush. Or ensconced in a Manhattan penthouse, living it up as a celebrated photographer and indulging in all (well, maybe not all) those things you denied yourself in your teens and early twenties. Whatever, don’t think I will visit NYC without summonsing you to the 7th Ave/1st St Starbucks for a latte (on me) accompanied by a freshly prepared cinnamon roll (on you) and consumed in the shadow of your latest photographic efforts.
(Anna fans self vigorously with wicker, uh, waveable from brother’s outdoors-in-Arizona wedding) And, that, folks should keep you more than entertained till early afternoon Monday.

Ta, darlings!