It was an early night

You may have noticed (or not) that I did not post a blog yesterday. Truth was I was just beat. A heavy weekend of cleaning and I am done. I did however start reading the funniest book I have ever picked up. The sad thing is that it is all about real people and the things that they say, yes, they are personal ads from the London Literary Times, and they are hilarious! I will give you an example, bear in mind that these are actual adverts for love/romance/whatever: The last time I had this much fun, I was on forty tablets a day. It's all downhill from here, so reply to edgy woman, 36, before the good times come to an abrupt end and the prescriptions finally dry up. Box no.2348 Or how about: Woman,56, much happier now. Currently at peace with herself and the world. Seeks dependable significant other who doesn't mind listening. Must like cats and darkness. Box 7322. I mean, these are hilarious. Or is it just me that sees the humor in this stuff? I really should give an example of a man's submission so here goes: Too much sex, not enough vitamin B12. Vegan love-god on the brink of mental and physical collapse (M,26) seeks pallid, calcium-deficient F for nights of apathy, depression and headaches whilst touring the moral high ground. It's all faux-fur, acrylics and re-hydrated soy at box no. 7633. I mean why wouldn't you just jump on that band wagon? One day I will have to tell you about my (very) early days of the paper dating scene (read here, desperate and lazy attempt to find love). I ( I know, hard to believe) placed an advert in the local rag (on the west coast) that ran these sorts of ads. The thing was you rang up and did a voice message that people could phone in and listen too, all for a nominal fee of course, they didn't want just any old creep calling in, had to be a psycho with at least $30.00 to their name to afford the fee. I have never had so many messages on my voice mail since that time. I would literally have 20 a day. Some people left a message, some where just trying to catch their breath ( I think that is what they were doing?) others would just listen and then hang up, actually come to think of it I did have a lot of hang ups. I think that I have missed my calling in life, maybe I should be one of those women who make all their money just by talking on the phone. Naw, I get tired of yakking all the time, easier just to write. The bottom line of the advertising for "true love" is that yes, you can meet a whole new scope of people, and yes, they are usually OK, but not what I was looking for. I think that the popularity of looking in the news ads, or more recently on-line, is that it is great for the lazy or overly busy types. I mean really, you can sit in your old PJ's with a mud pack on, a conditioner on your hair and heel cream on your feet looking for love. Or you can get all gussied up in something that doesn't fit right, pantyhose (only a man would have invented such a torturous thing) an hours worth of makeup application (so you will not look anything like the real you) and about $100 in cash. You need all the money for 1- club entrance fee, cause you just don't cut it in the looks department to get in free, 2- because you just don't cut it in the looks department, you will have to buy all your own drinks all night 3- you start to feel so depressed after 3 hours of sitting at the bar buying your own drinks and gyrating to all the songs, by yourself, cause no-one has asked you to dance, that you slip the flower girl extra cash to casually put a rose on the bar by your drink, while you "pretend" to be in the bathroom, so you can have a little bit of excitement in your evening (by this time you are pretty looped and have forgotten that you sent the rose to yourself, so you spend the next 40 minutes making a fool of yourself asking anyone who looks twice at you if they sent you the rose) 4- at closing time you are really wanked so you have to spring for a cab to get your sorry ass home 5- you talk the cabbie in to taking you through the drive through at MacDonald's so you can drown your sorrows and self pity with extra fries and a Big Mac. Then your stomach will really have something to throw into the white phone you will spend the early, early hours of the new day talking on. Yeah, see, looking at the adverts in the paper are much easier and cheaper, not to mention saving your last shred of dignity than spending a night in the real world. God, I am exhausted reliving my early years.. I am so glad that I am past all that, way past.
Teetering off to read more love adverts (for a good laugh),
Cat x