Tag Archives: Ashley Madison

Mother’s Day, Ashley Madison, Dirty Words & Ellie Goulding

While attempting to update my profile on Ashley Madison, I kept getting an error message telling me I can’t use the word “culo.” I spent 10 minutes trying to figure out what the hell the site was talking about and eventually figured out that within the word “ridiculous” is the word “culo.” So I can’t use the word “culo” or “ridiculous.” I can see A FUCKING MILLION HIDEOUS COCKS IN BATHROOM MIRRORS BUT I CAN’T USE THE WORD RIDICULOUS! It is ricockulous! Seriously.

I’ve been told I couldn’t use the word “cock,” either. Yup. You can post photos of them but heaven forbid you should, you know, TYPE the fucking word. I substituted “c*ck” but there’s nothing I can do to un-see those penises. Ashley Madison needs a photo editor.

Saturday Night Live was pretty hilarious tonight. That birthing video. Hah! But this Ellie Goulding? What the hell? With all the talent on, well, America’s Got Talent, American Idol and The Voice, how the hell did this limp little blonde get a record deal? She sucks. Her cover of  “Your Song” was painful. She’s trying to sound like Bjørk and doing a lousy job of it. Ah, what do I know?

My mom is 3,000 miles away. She’s going to dinner with my sister and friends of hers (of my sister’s, not my mom’s) in the Mission. I’ll be spending my Mother’s Day in the Hamptons, celebrating a friend’s birthday (mine, not my sister’s). The birthday girl is sober but I plan on drinking. At least my ex-husband won’t be there. What? You already knew I was a cunt!

Friday’s Cognitive Dissonance

It began at lunch with the last of the married men in my marathon. I was prepared to be underwhelmed, the jaded cynic in me, perhaps. Instead I found myself on the verge of tears more than once, as The Poet posed personal questions. He observed that I was extremely guarded and spent time in pursuit of the “real me.” It was an interesting and emotional conversation.

But back to the dissonance. Here I was having lunch with a lovely man — polite, attractive, successful, engaging — who bragged about his honor student daughter and wonderful wife. But he wasn’t completely perfect. Because if I’d asked him back to my apartment he most likely would’ve agreed in an instant. And instantly become a cheater. Ah, perhaps not so lovely. But I kinda knew the circumstances going in. Which had me puzzling, in between sharing our life stories, whether good people can be bad.

By the time The Poet helped me to my door with an unwieldy package, met by the barking foster dogs, I was in a rush to prepare for my early evening plans. I had less than an hour to get ready, which included changing out of my Garanimals-like afternoon ensemble and into something more suitably punk rock. Once I’d applied heavier eye makeup and shrugged on my motocycle jacket, I dashed out the door to meet my friend Rob and his girlfriend at Joe’s Pub for “DanceNOW [NYC] Presents Alley of the Dolls, This is not a sequel.” The show was a bizarre mélange of performance art and dance, comedy and song, and a poke at show business, all loosely in homage to “Valley of the Dolls.” It had a sassy retro Sixties tang.

When the performance wrapped, we jumped into Rob’s truck and headed to Williamsburg for a chihuahua wedding. You heard right. The “puptials” of Rev. Jen Jr. and Taco took place in the spacious outdoor garden of Lucky Dog bar on Bedford Ave. The proud parents of the bride and groom, Reverend Jen Miller and Holly Waggytail DeRito (yes, the grande dame of the agency I foster dogs for) held the happy couple in their arms and read their dogs’ vows, with Faceboy officiating the ceremony. As one might assume, the festivities were attended by quite a colorful cast of characters, including photographer Alex Colby and his pretty Penthouse Managing Editor wife Christine, comic artist and dessert blogger Abby Denson, Carmen Mofongo, my Balloon Chain co-worker and Lucky Dog bartender Moonshine Shorey, and armloads of adorable dogs. Moonshine had the night off because he was on his way to his gig with Jugger Nut at C Squat. Which was where Rob, his girlfriend and I were headed next!

Approaching the block we knew immediately where the show was; the shitfaced  dirtbag lying on the sidewalk, slurring obscenities, made it a giveaway. I slid in the door and stood aside. Everyone was in an agitated state about the sidewalk scene. A droopy-eyed, stringy-haired hippy was telling the dreadlocked dude running the door, “I don’t know the guy, man. I mean, he’s not a friend of mine. I picked him up in Asheville but I gotta watch his back. He’s my homeboy.” Meanwhile, the guy is still rolling around on the sidewalk with everyone screaming at him to get up, get out, move on.

I paid my five bucks, got my hand Sharpied and waited for Rob and his girlfriend. They slipped in and handed me a 24-ounce PBR. Cracking up, I crowed, “I just became the hottest old broad in the building!” A guy nodded in agreement and said, “Yeah, you did!” We made our way toward the noise, stepping over half-passed out gutterpunks and straggly hangers-on. A small balcony overlooked a basement with walls covered in graffiti. Our timing was perfect; kids were shoving equipment around the stage in anticipation of Jugger Nut.

The room was like a scene from a movie: Sweaty kids were milling around, an old man was perched on a chair, hipsters were photographing each other with the cell phones. It was an impressive collection of nightcrawlers. And because I never go anywhere without running into someone I know, I bumped into Nicola.

Before I’d had a chance to finish my 24-ounce, the band came onstage in a cacophony of keyboards, drums, guitars and feedback. After a bit of ear abuse, the music was actually quite good! People were nodding and dancing or ducking for cover. My friend Moonshine isn’t a musician, he’s an adjunct to the band, a six-foot-plus performance artist of sorts, his painted face and voodoo accoutrements augmented by blood and chicken feet. He stalked into the pit and the parted.

I’m not sure I could ever find the right words to properly describe the scene and how it actually felt. It was like being in a time warp. Like being beamed back to the 80s. The floor was slimy with beer and a bedraggled chick in nothing but boots and a silver sequin miniskirt kept slipping in it. The crowd thrashed in the pit, slamming into each other just like the old days. The whole place smelled like sweat and cigarette smoke and beer. It was fuckin’ awesome!

The show lasted just the right amount of time and as the room cleared I couldn’t contain my excitement. “The underground lives!” I kept saying with a huge smile on my face. I couldn’t believe it! I was so invigorated I couldn’t just go home and go to sleep, so I strolled through Tompkins Square Park to Double Down. It was packed with too many irritating people but I wound up at the far end of the bar chatting with an interesting couple. He was in a heavy metal t-shirt and she looked like she maybe watched too much “Jersey Shore.” But we commiserated about the East Village asshole invasion and, astonishingly, Burning Man! He was leaving the next day for India. Sometimes life is full of surprises!

Anyway, I stumbled to the deli for a turkey sandwich which I didn’t remember eating the next morning as I marveled over my day of dissonance: the enjoyable Poet, dance show at Joe’s Pub, the chihuahua wedding, the C Squat Jugger Nut slamfest and the pleasant company over my nightcap at Double Down. It was an amazing dozen hours!

Conclusions…and How They Are Met

After a series of events, I’ve come to a few conclusions:

1. I’m not going to fall in love with anyone I meet online. It just isn’t going to happen. Looking back on all the relationships I’ve had — or even the one-night stands — each one depended quite heavily on an in-person attraction that simply cannot be replicated through the ether. As I’ve said before, none of my boyfriends would’ve appealed to me “on paper.” I needed to be in close proximity to them and that closeness led to romance. Had a dear friend fixed me up with any of these men, I would’ve rejected them,  even if only subconsciously, right off the bat. They wouldn’t have stood a chance. It was the moment-to-moment getting to know them that resulted in love. Or, in the case of my ex-husband, the moment-to-moment tête-à-tête that led to sex which, in turn, eventually resulted in love. All I can think about when I’m with these men — married or single, attractive or quirky, spectacular or less so — even while in the midst of making out with them, is “Can I fuck this person?” And unfortunately, inevitably, just the mere self-conscious self-asking question is immediately answered with a “No.” I can’t say why. But there you have it.

2. Men will take even a resounding NO as a yes. They never give up hope. This doesn’t require much more elaboration. I will add, however, that an offering of friendship, which from the offering end means, you know, the possibility of “friendship,” is translated on the male receiving end as “There’s a glimmer of hope for sex!” Un-uh. It means I find you interesting or entertaining or otherwise possessing desirable qualities that I want in a “friend.” End of story.

3. The internet offers an odd combination of anonymity and intimacy that allows us to say the most outrageous things to complete strangers! In what situation would you tell someone whose name you don’t know, whose face you’ve never seen, that you want to “fuck them til their eyeballs shake”? And in what social arena would this actually be a turn-on, coming from someone who you’ve never even seen a photo of? Is this courtship? Cause it sure as shit doesn’t feel like courtship to me. Sorry if that sounds prudish or provincial. But, well, what the motherfuck? I mean, really.

Below are a few rounds of communiqués that helped me come to these conclusions. My conversations with the poet, both in person and online, have also assisted me in realizing what I really want: to meet someone, in person, NOT online, and fall in love. There, I’ve said it.

So should I delete my profiles from the dating sites? I’m reluctant to do so only because they’ve resulted in a few great friendships, both male and female, the latter being introductions through the males I met online. It’s a big world out there. I seem to know half of it. I’m holding out hope that, even though I may not fall in love with anyone I meet online, they may introduce me to the person with whom I will feel that passionate connection. I soldier on, a cynical optimist…

Hi Jaded-est, 
I’m so sure you have the six pack hunks all over you, but I just wanted to let you know that I really enjoyed your profile explainations that you wrote! I kinda smirked and giggled a little because I could only imagine the pics that you have gotten! 
Listen, you seem to be a beautiful woman inside and out. I’m kind of a biker dude by night, engineer by day, so I’m not going to try to dazzle you with BS to try to impress you. I’d love to chat with you sometime just because your nature interests me and your pic caught my attention. But I’m certainly not the younger that your lookinng for nor do I have the six pack abs. But I can carry on a conversation in just about any mode.
Have a great week. even if I don’t hear from you, I am glad to have done this to contact you. Beautiful people in my circle is a very important thing for me. Hugs!
“Phil”

Thank you for your lovely, email, “Phil.”
May I ask if you’re really 50? Only because everyone on here lies…as I have. I’m 51, actually, and am about to turn 52.
This site is odd…I’m not quite sure what I’m looking for here…if what I find is an affair, as in an encounter with someone who is married (I’m not, don’t know if you noticed), it would have to be with someone UBER attractive to me. UBER. Ya know? Someone older wouldn’t work. Why bother? Someone too much younger? No thank you. I have a lot of “must haves” when it comes to jumping into bed with a virtual stranger. And I’m not sure that would ever even happen. But even to CONSIDER it…
So if you were single, I might consider meeting you to see if there’s any chemistry or to be, at the very least, friends. But really, be serious. You’re married, you aren’t down the street from me…I would bet your life doesn’t have much room for friendships with women you meet online, most especially THIS site. If we became friends, what would you tell your wife? Perhaps you are single, as some of the men I’ve met here are, even though they say they’re “attached.” It’s all so complicated.
Basically, I’ve come to the conclusion that a romantic, sexual relationship that begins online is more the stuff of TV commercials than reality. At least for me. I have two friends who are marrying people they met online. I can’t see it ever happening for me. Even sex with someone I meet online. After a few months of this crazy 21-st century dance, that’s where I’ve wound up.
So the fact that you’re able to carry on a conversation isn’t that appealing. I would hope that anyone I meet, ever, anywhere, would be capable of carrying on a conversation. Please forgive me for wanting more!
Again, thank you for writing. It isn’t easy putting yourself out there, so I appreciate the attention. Anything more, though, would just not make sense for me.
Best of luck to you!
A

Hi Jaded,
Well, I appreciate your honesty and it is the reason I contacted you in the first place. Well, I guess I’m not into games either. Yes, I am 50, gonna turn 51 this summer and yes, I am married, but in the middle of becoming single again. I’m here because I lack the closeness and passion that most people enjoy, but like you, I’m not into games and BS. So look hon, I understand you completely and if it doesn’t work for you it doesn’t work. I really wasn’t expecting even a reply from you, but since you did, my first impression was pretty much dead on. You’re a real person and I’m glad I tried to meet you. It is not upsetting that I’m not for you. But I will leave the possibility of being at least an online friend open.
So thank you for replying. You seem like a real nice person and can rest assured that this was not a drama driven or false contact. I don’t have the time to play games. I just want ot meet interesting people and bring them into my circle. I’m not just divorcing my wife, I am divorcing my life and it is a very humbling but exciting time for me.
Happy Wednesday! Good luck to you as well!

________________________

Subject:  Wow!
Nice pictures. You are an exotic princess! I am a fun-loving, gentle guy living and working in midtown during the week. I seek a friend to help me explore the city. Dinner and dancing a must! I hope you write back. 

Well, unfortunately it matters a LOT what you look like. Especially if you find me “an exotic princess” based solely on my photos. I mean, I’m flattered. But it’s so superficial.
I am certainly game for making new friends and can most definitely provide companionship for city exploration. The chances of sex, or anything physical, are probably about zero…even regardless of what you look like. That’s the conclusion I’ve come to after far too many months of online dating.
So, if you’re up for joining me on my adventures, or creating some new ones, with someone who will ONLY be a friend, sure. Though if you look like Santa, Methuselah, a troll or are otherwise visually objectionable, that won’t work…
Sorry to be so blunt. The internet offers an odd combination of anonymity and intimacy that allows us to say the most outrageous things to complete strangers!
Abby

____________________

Subject:  ho hum
Hi. .my name is Dwayne Goldstein. I’m a former priest turned orthodox jew who used to do amateur porn. My mother is balck and my father swedish. I do not own a mirror and I keep a small apt in warsaw. Normally when I go nude sunbathing I do it at the hotel pool, that I own. Different enough for you? Or have you done that too? I would think someone who’s “got it like that” that this site would have been your first destination. Everything is passe. You can message me back, if that’s trendy enough for you

Subject:  RE: ho hum
Um, okay….I’ll bite. Not sure how sarcastic you’re being but I’ll go with honesty… If your parents were black and Swedish, how is it you’re “caucasian?” Is any of that email true? Are you really single? Your turn. Oh, and how about a photo? Wondering why you wouldn’t post one if you are, in fact, single.
A

Subject:  RE: RE: ho hum
No none of that e mail is true. Except for the fact I’m single. I don’t have a pic on here in that I’m a mobile dj who does weddings and I can’t have my reputation tarnished. I can tell you where to see it if you like. As much as I love nyc I think maybe someone read in the Sunday times magazine that it was trendy to be blase about life. Just the same way they told everyone cupcakes and food trucks were invented in 2009. My pic is on my website [deleted]. Try it, if ur pilates instructor says its ok.

Subject:  RE: RE: RE: ho hum
Hah! Well, you are certainly sarcastic! Hah about the food trucks and cupcakes being invented in 2009. So ARE you single? Or married? Either way, how often do you actually get into NYC? Sorry, I’m a bit confused here…

Subject:  RE: RE: RE: RE: ho hum
I know. I know. The guy from ny1’s in the papers segment didn t tell you what to think next, so its understandable you’re confused. I am single. I am single. Use it as a mantra till you believe it. And I’m sarcastic. Anything else?

Subject:  RE: RE: RE: RE: ho hum
I come there about four times a yr to visit there since its my favorite spot in the world. And if I had more of a reason, as in fucking you so hard ur eyeballs shake, id be there more often. U r about three hours northeast of me.

Um, yeah. Well, MEETING me would have to happen LONG before you fuck me until my eyeballs roll.
Wow, thanks for the romance. Jesus what is this world coming to? Is that supposed to make me WANT to meet you? A quick clue: It doesn’t.
If you only get to where I happen to live three or four times a year, when, exactly, did you think we’d get together and actually get to know each other?
Holy shit. What am I doing on these fucking online dating sites? Oh, I know! WASTING MY TIME!

Nice Guys…

So during my somewhat short-lived Married Man Marathon last week, I’d have to say that everyone I met was very nice. Nice is a strange word. A non-committal sort of word. The one guy I had planned on meeting but didn’t considered himself a “good guy” or whatever, but yet, there he is looking to cheat on his wife. I got into an argument the other night with a friend who called all the men on Ashley Madison douche bags, simply because, well, they’re on Ashley Madison. It’s painting many men, with almost as many motivations, with one pretty sloppy paintbrush. I’ll venture that the larger percentage of men on there are douche bags. A thousand faceless penises can’t be wrong! But there are some guys whose hearts are in the right places, even if they’re looking to put there penises in the wrong ones.

Probably my most enjoyable date was with “Mike,” who traveled a considerable distance to meet me for lunch. We hung out and chatted long after we’d finished eating and he even accompanied me on an errand, eventually helping me to my door, where my two current foster dogs barked up such a storm that he ran off with his tail between his legs. Okay, that’s not quite accurate but it sure rolled off my tongue…er, fingertips!

Seriously, “Mike” had sent me a long series of thoughtful, well written emails, not the least of which contained the tear-inducing poem I’d mentioned a few posts ago. [See below.] Our conversation centered around our motivations for being on the site and “Mike” asked me questions no one else ever has. He wondered what makes me happy, what I’m really looking for, and he genuinely seemed interested. I had a very difficult time answering and I told him, admitting out loud for what may have been the first time ever, that I don’t know what I really want, and I don’t know if it’s because I’m afraid I’ll never get it or I’m afraid to even think about it…either way, I’m never been able to even get in touch with what I really, really want. It was both an intellectually and emotionally stimulating afternoon.

Since that meeting I’ve been asking myself those questions. I’ve also been feeling quite agitated. I’m not sure if the two are related. I certainly hope not. Because if they are, I’d better get in touch with what I want soon before I chase away all my friends!

In the midst of last week’s marathon — and my meals with other male friends — I went on a real date, a date with a single guy, someone I was pretty excited to meet. And I had an amazing time. The afternoon turned into evening, there were beers, his best friend and making out in a bar. Pretty perfect. Good enough to make a second date! He actually made a cameo appearance in my Saturday night; as he put it, he “parachuted in,” and we agreed it didn’t count as a second date. That was Sunday night. A delicious home-cooked meal at his place followed by more conversation and making out. I’ll save my sexual neuroses for another post but I will say I enjoyed myself, even if I kept my clothes on. Our evening ended watching the news of Bin Laden’s death on TV, sharing the historical  moment, before I headed for the subway home.

Oh my…this post is rambling a bit. I told you I was out of sorts! Anyway, what I’ve been trying to tell you about is nice guys. My past 10 days have been blessed with the companionship of — and meals with — nice men. They show me why I could never make a practice of seeing guys for “grocery dates” just as I never was able to pull off being a pro domme. Either I like you or I don’t; if I don’t, I’m pretty terrible at faking it, even for food. Or cash. Which then puts me in the position of thinking a bit harder about my motivations for being on Ashley Madison. Or even OkCupid. I know what I want. And I don’t know that I’ll ever find it online.

Here’s the lovely poem from “Mike”:

The faces of Abby
Are so many they seem
Expressions fantastic
Each costume a scene

The vamp and the pirate
The southwestern lace
In satin and leather
Her lovely tanned face

Celebrations, parades
Shrill sounds and bright lights
They gather and rave
And share her long nights

The promotions and stars
Demands of the game
Pushing new boundaries
Again and again

Words fly from the keyboard
Appointments, deadlines
Her cups brimming full
Overflowing in time

Her spirit grows restless
For a gentleman past
Quiet tears and sweet sorrow
Loving memories last

To delight her young heart
In a life of extremes
She beckons for someone
To fulfill her new dream

One after the other
The suitors they ply
Her attention to hold
Her affections to try

A scientist poet
With a heart to sojourn
Her heart to romance
My passions to burn

Perhaps we will meld
Like lovers embrace
But I hope to at least
Glimpse Abby’s true face

In that mid-marathon lunch meeting, he did get to glimpse my true face. And as I try to focus on the things I really, really do want, well, it just makes me sad.

Pricks on Parade!

Aw, fuck it. I’ve been working on this for WAY too long! For some reason, wordpress isn’t cooperating with my attempt at layout design. I’ll leave it up to you to figure out which words go with which photos. Sigh.

For some reason I’m feeling oddly agitated. No idea why. I’ve felt this way for the past few days, on good days and on bad days…I’ve been finding it difficult to formulate thoughts well or have patience with…anyone or anything. So I’m afraid I won’t be filling you in on my weekend just yet. In lieu of that, however, I can “insert photo” a few times in hopes of offering you some long-awaited dis-membering entertainment. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you my recently amassed “Rogue’s Gallery” of assholes with handheld cameras!

Let’s start with the horror of the mirror self-portrait. Like this one, for example. Really tells you a lot, doesn’t it? Look, I have a mirror! And a camera! And an arm! What is it about this photo that would inspire any woman to date the headless, faceless idiot who took it? Anyway, onward. The photos I’ve assembled weren’t all shot in bathrooms. Often I would hit DELETE so quickly when faced with dirty towels in the background or a side angle of a toilet that all I have left now are the “better” shots. Sweet Jesus.

These guys are clearly impressed with their six-packs! However, they don’t want you to see their faces.



 
Ooooh, so close! He almost shows us his cock. And is that middle one him jerking off? Inside of his panties? What the hell? And speaking of panties…


If the files weren’t so small these could almost be an ad for underpants! I wonder if he’s as cute as Mark Wahlberg.


This gentlemen was kind enough to send me his secret key twice. The first time I was so freaked out I couldn’t deal; the photo he shared was a headless side-view of his saggy belly. No cock, sadly enough…just flab. Lemme at ‘im! I can’t believe I deleted it. Evidently that wasn’t a big seller because when he sent me his second secret key, I was treated to this series of “Bend-Over Boyfriend-type” action shots!

Here are a few men with cocks and balls! Oh, and faces! Which is what I meant when I said balls. They’re not afraid to show their faces. But I didn’t get to see their balls. : (

I wrote to this guy and told him, “Hi there, I’m really not interested in just hooking up… And if you don’t mind my offering you a bit of unsolicited advice, you might want to change your photo. Urinals are not, as a rule, very alluring… Best of luck to you! Yup, he shared his face and his office men’s room! Thanks, dude!

But okay, I know you’re asking, “Where are the penises?” I wouldn’t let you down and I won’t. Here they come. Yes, that’s a warning. If you don’t want to see hard-ons, now’s your chance to go watch some LOL cats on YouTube! Or whatever.


This dude offered his mirror shirtcocking self-portrait and his penis! And not just his plain ol’ penis, oh no! His foreskin-peeping penis AND his emerged cock-head penis! What a giver!

I loved the juxtaposition of these two shots. “Dreamlover69” wants women to see him golfing. Then he wants us to see an extreme close-up of his pubes! The question is, which one is less appealing?


And here we have another sports fan. Is that a shot of him with a World Series trophy? With his face all Photoshop swirled? And then what? His huge cock!

“Discret” [sic] shared four phallus photos but I got the feeling that none of them were actually him. (His?) Don’t they look suspiciously like porn shots?



Now for just a quick penis parade:

And one gentleman wanted you to see his cock but apparently didn’t want to give you any idea of its scale, so all he shared was the head of his cock! Hahahaha!
Now, if you’ve made it to the end of this pornographic cornucopia, you’ve earned an extra special treat! Not another prick, not even an enormous one! Nope. I’m gonna share a hottie with you who uses the screen name “Do_You_Gush,” a suave and sophisticated 52-year-old married man who is hungry for an affair. I responded to his come-on immediately but never heard back from him. I’m assuming he’s just so completely overwhelmed by the hundreds of responses he’s received that he simply doesn’t have time for me. Sigh. I can only wait…and wish… And work on my “gushing.” Here ya go:

On Sunshine, Staying Tuned and Second Dates

Dear Steve Jobs,
Please make a laptop that can be used in the sunshine. I love to blog but don’t want to spend all my sunny days indoors!

Dear Readers,
I still need to tell you all about Friday and its cognitive dissonance. Saturday night had a bit of mind-bending time-travel too. And I’ve been compiling more married “members” that I plan to serve up with guffaw-inducing editorializing. These posts must be mulled over and well-crafted!  Stay tuned.

And if you think it’s a slow news day for EditrixAbby, I’m going on a date. A second date. Yes, someone actually enjoyed my company enough to want more. No, he’s not married. He’s also not a gnome, an old man, a 20-something looking to fulfill his “best friend’s mom” fantasies, a functional illiterate, a swinger, a polyamorous bi-sexual crossdresser or the friend of a friend of a friend. You’ll probably only hear details if it’s a total disaster. Which I obviously hope it won’t be. Wish me luck!

Idiots, Updated

Greetings, dear readers! Yesterday was an amazing day, a day of cognitive dissonance. I don’t have time to write about it today but stay tuned. In the interim, I’ll fill you in on the latest online hilarity.

The first exchange is an update from one of the idiots I was “schooling” in my previous post:

Why don’t you let me see your pictures so I know what I’m missing? [This is paraphrased, since Ashley Madison deletes your messages beyond the last 10. Argh!]

I don’t have secret photos. I have photos online. [Again, paraphrased.]

Just one though.

Actually, there are five. Click on the arrows.

 Great shall do.

Extremely curious about you and would love to learn more about you and what you are looking for. Your profile says a lot but I suspect there is a lot more. How do I find you?

Still wondering, but will be patient.

You seem so very nice and I appreciate your openenss. Where oh where do you live? [This one almost made me do a spit-take. I seem very nice? I wonder what the hell his now-deceased “lover” was like! She must’ve been Cruella deVille! That email I sent him was so far from nice I’ve characterized it as the most brutal communiqué I’ve ever written!]

We thought you’d like to know that “david9105” has added you to the ‘Favorites’ section of his Profile. [Really? I’m one of his favorites? Really. Wow.]

———————–

Okay, so now what do I do? I’ve already written to him to disabuse him of any notion of ever meeting me? How much more brutal can I be?

And this exchange is between myself and “Alex,” a single guy in New Jersey. I believe the photo accompanying his profile is a shot of him golfing. That, in itself, should have served as a warning. His emails were very curt and felt, on my end, a bit bossy. I did my best to reply politely until the very end. The first email volley between the two of us was deleted by my friends at Ashley Madison. I believe his consisted of something along these lines: “hello, love your pix” or “hi wanna chat” – without caps or punctuation. And I’m sure my response was “Thank you!”) The conversation continued thusly:

We thought you’d like to know that “A1177” has added you to the ‘Favorites’ section of his Profile.

Hi Abby I emailed u wondering if u got it my e is xxx@xxx.com Alex

I did, indeed, and responded!
A

We thought you’d like to know that “A1177” has added you to the ‘Favorites’ section of his Profile. [I didn’t realize I could be “favorited” more than once! This guy can’t keep his finger off the “favorite” button!]

hey there whats up

Why would you waste credits by asking “What’s up?” Do you have anything to say that might inspire me to respond to you? Yes, I’ve responded. At this point it’s almost anthropological.

u look perfect 

lets cut the bull 555 555-1234 im Alex 

Hello Abby
sorry I got off on the wrong foot with u  so 2 speak  last night   but I did begin by saying that I thought u looked perfect   
Alex

Hi Alex!
And thank you for thinking I look perfect. I can assure you I’m not! As you’ve already seen, I have a tough time keeping my mouth shut!
Perhaps you’re typing on a gizmo? That always makes me more brief. Either way, I’m happy to try the other foot!
Abby

I’ll  b in the city 2morrow 4          the auto show    would u like 2 have lunch

I have lunch plans…and after work plans. Will you be spending the night? (Can’t recall where you live…)
Could do lunch on Thursday!

Iif u wanna do lunch 2morrow   call 555 555 1234   best I got 2 offer

I’m sorry, I said I had plans.

If you’ll still be around at 7 I could meet you for drinks…or dinner. Best I have to offer.

I think its time we chat   555 555 1234   don’t b scared im cool

will u call already

If you haven’t already noticed, I do not respond well to orders.
Move along.
There’s nothing to see here.

Last chance

Hahahahahah fuck off.

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I must admit, I am really enjoying this newfound ability to just blow guys off. “Alex” is single, so don’t think — again — that my blow off-ability is reserved just for the attached. Perhaps it’s the sheer numbers of potential suitors that is allowing me to feel the need to be nice to everyone. Or maybe I’m finally capable of responding to rudeness with more rudeness. I’m not sure it’s a good thing, in the end, but it sure feels exhilarating!

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And further proof that men will keep butting their heads against that brick wall, two separate emails post the “fuck off”:

U should.nt talk like that

Hey abby

Sir,
You have proven yourself to be rude and bossy.
As I said, move along, nothing to see here.
A