Attention, Ladies

I was having a seat on my steps the other day, caught in a quandary of simultaneously enjoying and despising a cigarette, and watching all the bugs crawling around.

As I did so, it struck me how peculiarly deficient insects are in terms of sensory perception. So many of them seem completely oblivious to anything, regardless of how harmful or helpful, going on more than a bodylength away. And yet, by virtue of sheer quantity, a few of each kind, purely by chance, manage to get it right, and their respective species carries on.

I guess it's no different for humanity, really, except that people are also equipped with the ability to make excuses.

I, however, make no excuses. Even though I blunder this way and that, it can hardly be said that I am one of those who are "getting it right". As my therapist once so succinctly put it " You're not here because you're any kind of role model."

Harsh... But also fair. As Doob LaVey devotees can readily atest to, my own personal affairs are a frightening mess. Doob LaVey's owes it's existence to this fact. I would have had little personal need to reveal the details of my existence here, if they all tended towards median experience. But I digress.

In my latest bit of social incompetence, so greatly have I despaired in my lonliness, that I felt compelled to do the unthinkable. So say hello to the world's newest rapist.

LOL! Just kidding! Actually, rape is no laughing matter and I recommend to everyone now reading this that, when you're done here, you go google up some results for "rape" and then look at all the nudie pics that purport to be "rape" but are in no meaningful way distinguishable from regular, non-offensive pornography.

The unthinkable thing that I actually did do was, horror of horrors, I placed a personal ad in the local free newspaper.

I swore to myself once that, no matter how bad things ever got, it'd never come to this. Personal ads, I thought, were a thing for people who are stupid or old. But what I didn't know then was how acute the pain would become. So I folded.

Besides, it's still better than on-line dating. As everyone knows, all the chicks on the internet are actually men just trying to get your credit card number. So don't even talk to me about your tight, virgin pussy, sir, cause I'm on to you.

Also, this way I only get local responses and thus avoid the awkwardness of determining who's paying for the greyhound ticket that makes that first visit possible. Personally, it doesn't particularly unreasonable to say to a girl "Look, you're the one who wants to meet me, okay? So maybe you should fork out." (and put out, and get out ;)

However, haggling over finances before you've even met face to face, bodes nothing healthy for the future of your relationship.

Anyway, getting back on track, the ad reads like this:

SWM, early 30s, smoker, seeks F.

Age and appearance not important.

Mental illness prefered, drug addiction

an absolute must. Call xxx-xxxx.

So I figure that pretty soon my phone will be ringing off the hook. Keep in mind that the real ad has my actual phone number in it, not a bunch of "x"s. I just don't want to reveal it here so I don't get any more calls from that guy who says his teen cunt is so tight it's like getting a blow job from a boa constrictor. Whatever that means. It might have made sense if he'd said it was as tight as a coil job from a boa constrictor... or maybe not.

Or maybe my phone wont ring at all. I'm prepared for it. There's all sorts of thins that could go wrong. Maybe my target demographic doesn't read the paper, can't read at all, can't spare a quarter for the payphone, or can't find a payphone.

At worst, I'll be only as alone as I was before. Which, now that I think about it, is actually pretty depresssing. I hope someone calls.

TTYL!