boyfriend shopping.

every week for entertainment value I pour over
the lists of hopeful singles seeking their match.
sure I’ve thought about responding to some,
even fantasized about the ones whose ads sounded perfect.
but i couldn’t bring myself to make that 1-900 phone call
or put $10 on my credit card for e-mail responses.
I’d write my own ad, but how could I sum myself up,
what I was looking for and had to offer?

Self-flagellating or -exalting? Prone to fits of rage? Ambivalent towards your mother? Still in love with your ex? Are you a lousy liar? Still live with your parents? No focus or direction? Sexual hang-ups? Selfish, cheap and unaware? On a rollercoaster mood disorder? Leave me alone!

25, 5’5”, big ass, brown eyes, dreadlocks, three tattoos, Capricorn, addicted to KitKat, dig nature walks and hard trance, looking for healthy tall guy with similar interests, green eyes and dark hair, clear skin and aura, sharp dresser, non-smoker, vegetarian. No baseball caps or fetishes for petite Asian women.

affectionate, creative, sexy, energetic, talkative woman is gonna do things to you your ex couldn’t even imagine. 

still I cannot join the ranks of those who chase
promises of mindblowing orgasm or ephemeral pleasures.
I cannot compartmentalize myself in an attractive byline,
and an extra word is not worth one cent if I sell myself out. 
no doubt, a perfectly viable way to meet people,
no better or worse than live introductions or blind dates,
but I can’t bring into my life something 
that is happening unnaturally.
writing a personal ad is like sticking
a square peg into the round hole of my universal plan
and inevitably creating a kink and a pattern
that will take years to get unstuck.
I will not find the love of my life
between the black & white pages of a free urban weekly
because I cannot reduce myself
to 50 words or less.

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