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Hilario 51 y., I wanting nsa
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Displaced Gentleman Seeks Suitable Female Companion
What a curious it is that a man such as myself -- formerly a resident of the great City of London, during the reign of good Queen -- should have found himself carried by the Winds of Time to the Year of Our , and specifiy in this great City of New-York, which do not meet with my personal approval. There is, for instance, something peculiar -- or shall I even say grotesque? -- about the courtship rituals of this time. In my day, marriages were more sensibly arranged by concerned parties such as parents and clerics, in with the and the Farmer's Almanac, and without any foreknowledge of the two parties involved. Today, however, I am given to understand that I must personally seek out a mate -- in rowdy taverns and in of soulless cubicles, and amidst the intimidating book-stacks of my neighborhood Noble. Neither Hercules Sisyphus himself ever faced so daunting a task! Indeed, the obstacles are many. While I have had the pleasure of meeting many Women of Virtue since arriving in your time, it is my great sorrow to report that most of them have pledged themselves to other men, who in my estimation range in worthiness from high to low, from True Gentleman to Blasted Coxcomb. And in my questing to meet women who are, to use the parlance of your times, "single," I have met with but limited success. I cannot romance anyone at my work-place while under the all-seeing gaze of Human Resources; I cannot impress ladies with my intellectual worth when I visit my local tavern, since I cannot make my voice heard over the wailings of your Juke-Boxes; and when I try to meet prospective mates at occasions such as Book-Club meetings, I am distressed to find myself the youngest person in the room by a measure of some two to decades! So, I now turn to this " 's List" as a last resort. Yet I must confess that I have but little faith in this form of courtship as well. "Strange" would perhaps be the best word to describe the people I have met through the Internet. Discourteous, judgmental, bizarre, depraved, superficial, depressed, and depressing are also fine words that readily apply to my prior On-line matches. Is there no woman on this Web who values intelligence and kindness more than muscle-power, and Moral Virtue more than a man's salary and choice of casual footwear? I feel that such Women of Substance must exist, somewhere, but I have yet to find them. If you are such a one . I await your e-mail. Please write a personal in your subject-line, so I know that your e-mail is not Spam, and was not sent by some woman of the night, like unto the ladies of Whitechapel, who wishes to lure me to her vile Web-Cam. I have but one other request. My goal, in writing this entreaty, is to connect with a woman who is eager to enjoy my society in the Real World. While I appreciate a witty correspondence as much as the next man, I have no desire to spend the next several weeks exchanging electronic mails with women who are unwilling or unable to meet me in person. I trust that you will understand my impatience with the slow of such virtual courtship, which strikes me as glacial even when compared to the slow-budding romances in the novels of Ms. . And now, I fear that I have outstayed my welcome. I should have heeded the that Brevity is the Soul of Wit, which was oft repeated by my grandmother, though she divorced swingers searching fucking orgy singels rarely adhered to it. Forgive me. I am not yet used to writing concisely, in the style of your text messages. I do, indeed, beg your pardon most sincerely. Please, allow me to recompense you for the boredom of reading this, by buying you a glass of spirits sometime in the near future. |