So, after posting my open letter to Mr. X, I received messages such as the following from The Sexy Site:
Nico, 59 (Subject: Sorry):
Schalk, 47 (Subject: Hi Sexy):
Piet, 65:
But the third one did it. I couldn’t let everyone reading my diary assume that my Saturday night had been ruined by an X. I had to somehow regain the upper hand. How could I leave everyone thinking (Mr. X himself included) that Mr. X had gotten the better of me? And least of all, I don't want to be anybody's pity f*ck!
So I made myself a pot of coffee, put some music on and started writing.
Nico, 59 (Subject: Sorry):
“I saw your dairies why do men do that? sorry on behalf of all men but they are assholes out there. Let chats.”(Well, considering I am not a dairy farmer, I wonder which dairies he is referring to … although there are some beautiful ones around where I live.) (And no, I shall not refer to the final sentence of Nico’s message. I get tired just considering passing comment on his last two words … here’s hoping that English is his second language.)
Schalk, 47 (Subject: Hi Sexy):
”I really do agree with you, this whole site seems to be a waste of time as we all know why we are here. I have been on this site for a couple of days and all I can say is its Boring - I also don’t want mind fucks - how can that ever compete with the real thing!!!! Let me know if you are interested and let’s see if we can satisfy each other.”(Well, I don’t know who you are talking to, Schalk. But boring (with a capital “B”) is one adjective I would NOT use to describe this particular site. I do, however, appreciate the smooth tactics: one attempted commiseration followed swiftly by an attempted pounce!)
Piet, 65:
”Shoo looks like somebody really "pissed" on your battery, pity because you seem such a nice and straight forward person, honey if I was younger I would be chasing after you because all I want is NSA sex point write me if you want to talk regards.”(Please will some one tell me what “NSA sex point” is. Unless, of course, he was just proving how old he is and inadvertently teleported back to 1965, thus confusing the present email with a past telegram.)
But the third one did it. I couldn’t let everyone reading my diary assume that my Saturday night had been ruined by an X. I had to somehow regain the upper hand. How could I leave everyone thinking (Mr. X himself included) that Mr. X had gotten the better of me? And least of all, I don't want to be anybody's pity f*ck!
So I made myself a pot of coffee, put some music on and started writing.
I'll give you the unedited version tomorrow.
x
No comments:
Post a Comment