RE: Jewish girl who passed out in my bed - w4m
Reply to: email@example.com
Date: 2009-03-03, 4:33PM EST
I’m pregnant and it is yours!
We can only hope this is a joke.
“Do you read craigslist? You should.” - m4w - 30 (Red Line toward Shady Grove, around six)
Reply to: firstname.lastname@example.org
Date: 2009-03-04, 6:28PM EST
You wore a red coat and you had blue eyes and brown hair. You were carrying a purse in one hand (don’t remember what color) and a white plastic bag in the other. We spent the ride from Metro Center checking one another out and occasionally smiling at nothing in particular until I had to get off at Tenleytown. I said “Do you read craigslist?” You said something I couldn’t quite hear, and I said “You should.”
I was (and presumably still am) tall, dark and reasonably cute. I was wearing a burgundy North Face jacket that has seen better days and a green hoodie. Drop me a line.
As much as we love Craigslist too, maybe next time you should just give the guy your number.
To the heartbroken woman I sat next to on the MARC train this morning (MARC Train)
Reply to: email@example.com
Date: 2009-03-04, 9:06AM EST
You were the blonde woman sitting next to me in a 4-seated area where you and your 2 other friends sat. I couldn’t help but overhear the conversation about your recent break-up drama and how the associated “friends” were calling you a big downer.
I really wanted to tell you that I was in the EXACT situation several years ago. My advice to you is:
a) DROP THAT ZERO - Cut off all communication. He’s a selfish prick and will never have your best interests in mind.
b) DROP THOSE FRIENDS - They’re a bunch of selfish A-holes and dead weight to you. If they can’t value your friendship now, then they never will.
Follow this advice, and I promise you will be a much happier person. REMEMBER - You can never change people, but you can remove yourself from the drama.
I hope this helps. You seem like a really nice person.
Nothing says “I want to be your rebound” like eavesdropping and unsolicited advice.
Tom Toms 2/28 im not really engaged! - w4m - 21 (Adams Morgan)
Reply to: firstname.lastname@example.org
Date: 2009-03-05, 1:18AM EST
28 UNC grad at Tom Toms. You know who you are, and I usually don’t do this kind of thing, but I haven’t been able to find you anywhere! Come back!
Did you say you were engaged in the first place? Not a great way to get a guy.
Sorry I Thought You Were a Hooker - m4w - 27 (Las Vegas, Mirage Hotel)
Reply to: email@example.com
Date: 2009-03-02, 12:23PM EST
Me: mid-20’s, brown hair, brown eyes, glasses
You: early 20’s, blonde hair, black and gold dress (very shiny)
Where: Jet Night Club, The Mirage, Las Vegas
Vegas can make a guy crazy. So when your group of 4 smokin’ blondes and one brunette melded with the bachelor party group I was in, I immediately thought you were all hookers. So first of all, sorry for instantly assuming you sold your body for money. To be fair, though, your dresses were very short, and your hair was very blonde. Also, you were friendly, which is rare in this world of stuck up short skirted blonde bitches.
Also, my self-esteem is similar to that of an anorexic 16 year old girl whose sister just won the Miss America pageant and whose parents refer to her as “Our Little Miss Piggy.” So you know, the thought that any girl as good looking as you would want to talk to me without financial compensation never crossed my mind. Add in the fact that we were in Vegas, and you can understand my suspicions.
Anyway, we started chatting. You told me where you went to school and that you sold complex financial instruments for a certain large company. That should have been my first clue that you weren’t a hooker. Honestly, could there be a less sexy profession? I’m no expert, but I would think a hooker would have a more alluring cover story or “day job.” And your friend who just started law school at Georgetown? Also clearly not a hooker. I owe her an apology, too, so pass this along.
Somehow, through the noise, foam and red bull and vodkas, we connected...I told you I think most people suck, and you agreed…you said you hate popped collars, and I swooned. I said I hate douchery of all kinds, and you grabbed my ass.
A little more than an hour into our courtship, we started dancing. I said your hair smelled great (seriously, what shampoo do you use? I’m going to use it on my sheets). You said I was cute. I said you were gorgeous. You said you liked me…a lot. I said I preferred whipped cream cheese to regular. You were puzzled.
Again, you clearly were not a hooker. Because hookers don’t spend hours talking to someone who is clearly not interested in paying for it. Time is money. As a vendor of complex financial instruments, you know this.
We danced some more…nothing we couldn’t do at a Bar Mitzvah (did I tell you I’m Jewish?), but you know, not exactly PG. The song came to an end, and you went to our table to get your drink. I received a text from my buddy (the bachelor, to whom I am no longer speaking) informing me he believed you were a prostitute.
I freaked out and bailed without even saying goodbye. I should have told you I was leaving. I should have told you why. Because you’re not a whore. Anyway, I made like Wile E. Coyote, and left a dust trail as I bounced from the club.
Outside, I found more of my so-called friends. They were headed to the blackjack tables, and did NOT, in fact, believe you to be a hooker. They had been watching us, and being assholes, were judging and laughing. They knew how paranoid I was, were ready to leave, and figured I would buy it if they said you were a prostitute. They were right, and I suck. Again, I’m sorry.
Anyway, if you read this, my bad. I hope we can meet up again. I’ll explain about the cream cheese.
I’m An Idiot
We had to add this for the Georgetown reference. And just to clarify: He’s really sorry he thought you were a hooker.