This Is A Personal Ad.

I am a sucker for the cliche: tall, dark and handsome. Like a cliche, the attraction lasts between that first heart flutter and the moment they open their mouth, betraying that lovely facade for the vacuous cavern inside. It’s a recurring pattern until my heart doesn’t flutter anymore for every lovely face I come across.

Don’t get me wrong. I know my place. I’m not leggy, willowy nor stunning. Nay, I’m “sturdily built” with a formidable backbone, more curves than I know what to do with and a fairly nifty pair of elbows. It would be nice to know that I am even vaguely attractive to my preferred gender. Perhaps I’ve underestimated how grotesque I can look early in the morning.

You see, I know the difference when you look at me without even a whiff of primal attraction. It doesn’t bother me really. I’m used to being overlooked although I do get the odd wolf whistles and sideway glances too. I just find it hardpressed to accept that only construction workers seem to find me enchanting in any way. I am definitely certain it has nothing to do with my backbone or my elbows. Maybe I’ve got this all wrong.

It’s a puzzling thing you see. I seem to be inundated with girls proclaiming “if only you were a guy, I would marry you!! <3.” As much as I am flattered, sex change and lesbianism isn’t exactly a viable option. I like my mammary glands and girls do get really unbelievably annoying too. I should know. I’m annoying.

Oh I am really a sucker for a boy who shares a silly fascination with the world beyond mere accumulation of wealth or brawn. I like nerds. By probability, it’s likely that he’s tall because my dimensions are typically more squat than the average male. Fair or dark, it doesn’t really matter to me. I have a great tolerance for those who aren’t easy on the eyes before 10am. I’m not picky.

by Dan Foy aka orangeacid

I’m going to have to trust Noah in this one. If his schpiel is right then in this world we come in twos. When the flood hits, I’m guessing we’d gravitate and make ourselves a nice flotation device together. It’s a comforting thought. I don’t ask for much but it seems that the things I need is something so much more difficult to find. I have a better chance if I just stand still and trust that a creature with a formidable backbone and some enchanting pair of limbs would fall out of the sky. Wings would be a good thing to have. At least it’ll break your fall.

In the mean time, I will wait. I’ll pick up carpentry and the art of making boats.

Maybe by then I’d know how to love you, whoever you are.