four postings and a prophylactic

Last night, i used a condom for the first time since the Bush administration.
No, not that Bush administration.
Yes, THAT Bush administration.
I'll come back to that in a bit.
In my last foray into the world of online personals, i posted an ad for myself, written by a friend. It was charming, but garnered not one response from a living, breathing NY woman.
So i decided to represent myself, and posted the following, which i thought captured my sense of whimsy:
The most healing thing in the world is touch. The second-most healing thing? Laughter. Any idiots can feel each other up, but matching senses of humor are rare. So here is a rough skeleton of my funny bone (A skeleton of my funny bone? Hilarious!). Lenny Bruce/George Carlin/Monty Python/Marx Brothers/ZAZ/Christopher Guest/Chapelle's Show. Practical jokes and gallows humor are a hoot, too. If you fancy a nature boy who isn't into makeup, martinis, or makin' the scene, here i be.
No responses. My aforementioned friend said that i needed to either post a lengthy ad spelling out what i want, or one which objectifies myself, giving me the "upper hand" with any woman who might approach me. I posted the following:
Last week, i posted the previous ad, and got no responses. I can laugh at that, as i can laugh at most anything, but my gay friend assures me he understands women better than i, and he feels i'm not objectifying myself enough. So in the interest of humoring him, i'll say that i'm 41, 5'10", with thick blonde hair and 1.9% body fat. I have a summa cum laude master's degree, no addictions or criminal record, and have done body double work for Brad Pitt. I'm world-traveled and color-blind. Please don't answer this ad, as i would be a little chagrined to discover that my friend is right.
I got two responses...one from a forty year-old who seemed charming, but rejected me because i don't fully embrace the proposition that our individual identities are illusion. The second was from an eighteen year-old. After a few e-mails which left no doubt that she was real, she sent me a bloglink which promptly tried to infect my computer with a virus. Undeterred, i turned to my friend's other option, and posted this:
Dear you,
You probably don't get people who identify themselves by skin color, age, or gender.
You probably think people who don't post a picture aren't comfortable in their skin.
You probably don't wear makeup, or shoes you can't climb a tree in.
You probably love pillow fights.
And running naked in the rain.
You probably have no time for money, religion, fashion, alcohol, or living someone else's dreams.
You probably love movies and shows...maybe even British humor or geeky sci fi.
You probably cry.
Okay, maybe not geeky sci fi.
You probably love music, and dance when you're alone.
You could spend all day being touched.
You probably wish more people understood how to live in the moment.
Your heart is probably going to jump out of your chest when you meet me.
love, me
My ensuing haul? One woman. She said i sounded amazing, but she was too close to a recent breakup to be ready for something new. We exchanged a few e-mails, in which i charmed her, but she abruptly disappeared (possibly when she discovered that i don't look my age). And thus ended a chapter of online romantic misadventure.
Yet...
On this night, i have a new lover named Karyn, delivered to me by one of my ads. The funny part? Tweren't a romance ad. In my ongoing search for a happy home, i've been posting the following in the craigslist barter section, almost purely for the sake of playfulness (and with an eye to perhaps snaring a reader or two):
A patron is needed (a rich widow, mayhap?). I'll take care of the literary future of the human race, if you take care of me a 'lil. I write articles, poetry, and plays. I work freelance as an actor/mascot/director/mover/art model/wedding officiant, but would delight in having the financial burden of the world lifted a bit, especially as my particular brilliance may not be in vogue for another century or two. My writings can be seen at http://unboughtsoul.blogspot.com/. In exchange for a free or cheap room, i can offer my skills as an editor, organizer, massage therapist, and second-rate handyman.
yours in fun,
rob
Karyn found it, and wrote to me. We were lovers seven hours after we met. I normally don't move so quickly, but...she does, and my raw emotional state has left me more impulsive than normal. The fact that she has the physique one would expect of a former professional dancer & current pilates master, is not a can of beans either. I'm in over my head a bit, but we've been seeing each other all week and are having a wonderful time. She's not a little surprised by how much of herself she's revealed to me...ugliness included (remind me to tell you about her super-hero alter ego, Ho Girl...this has nothing to do with prostitution, and everything to do with assault with a gardening weapon). Deeper compatibility is iffy. She loves makeup and high heels, hopes i might enjoy pot with her, and is a fervent believer in past lives, Universal Attraction, and astrology. She also, however, quotes Monty Python and is advanced in terms of self-awareness (even able to make fun of the "kool-aid" she drinks, in regard to her spiritual beliefs).
And all that aside, it's just wonderful to be around someone you can't stop touching. She says i make her smile from the inside out.
And oh yes, the condom! Yes. No, i'm not a fan. Which doesn't mean i've led a reckless life. Quite the opposite, as i've averaged a year or two between lovers. This is mostly because i know what a great relationship can be, and haven't wanted to settle for less, and also partly because i'd almost rather not have sex, than have latex between me and the person i'm loving.
But here we are, twenty years later, and i'm wearing one again. Ah well, there are worse fates. In fact, condom or no condom, feeling a woman have an orgasm the first time you're inside her, when she's not even on top...well, there may be better things in life...
But maybe not.