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.

Monday, May 02, 2005

Mr. Persistent

Based on my vast experience with passivity, I woulda thought it’d work this time. Last month Mr. Real Australian Brothel followed up on his initial query to clarify whether I’d like to link back to their blog in a full-fledged swap operation. My response? Silence. I figured that should communicate sufficient vagueness on the matter. Maybe he’d just link to me anyway. Wasn’t bad enough I’d shared the real link with Harvard Lickwit, providing what he claimed was a whole weekend’s worth of entertainment?

But no, Mr. Real Australian Brothel ain’t a slacker about his job. He’s a stickler for details, that one! Probably has a little spreadsheet with all his possible blog-link partners and their status. Anna Broadway: not yet replied.

He must be convinced I’m a hot commodity. Perhaps he’s caught wind of the book project I’m hoping to find a buyer for. In any case, he wrote me again this morning:

Did you want to put up a link back to us also ?

Mr. Real Australian Brothel
Content Manager
So alas, I must out my prejudices.
Sorry, Mr. Real Australian Brothel, I kinda object to your line of business. Hence I don’t plan to help direct my readers to you. But good luck anyway, I guess.
Or there’s always the cop-out approach. Predicated on the notion we’ a Real Professional Blog here:
Sorry, Mr. Real Australian Brothel. I regret to inform this blog’s policy prohibits promoting commercial entities whose operation is not legal in the host country for said site.
That sounds sufficiently officious and passive, no? Maybe he’ll still feel inclined to link back to me anyway.

If I let him down gently:
Sorry, Mr. Real Australian Brothel. I regret to say readership of this blog is so negligible (and so strongly female) I doubt I’d provide you any marketing of significance.
It occurs to me these brush-off methods may have parallels to dealing with a date or potential partner you’re not into.
  • Candidly biased: Sorry, I don’t like you that way.
  • Officious cop-out: It’s against my religion to, uh, date. Men. Who like me first.
And finally,
  • Self-deprecation: I don’t think I’d make a good girlfriend anyway. I’d probably be a real trainwreck.
On the bright side, I may have found a match for Mr. Real Australian Brothel, a.k.a. Ms. Persistent. Just now she too sent a follow-up email. Offering me a second chance to subscribe to the glossy Loft, “The first lifestyle magazine specifically created for men of style, with incomparable editorial quality, photography and design. Within its pages, one can experience the works of world-renowned writers, the planet’s most beautiful women and exotic destinations, as well as the latest fashions, must-haves and trends.” Perhaps she infers from my street address that I’m one of the Slope’s many same-sex households.

After all, Jeff Sharlet thinks such arrangements present an unacknowledged ideal for many Christians (that is to say, our menfolk). Not sure I’m buyin’ that theory, though - or buying shoes on my lunch break, as a new San Francisco fan speculated.

Lattes, however, are always in fashion. Especially when you’re sleep-deprived.