All posts for the month July, 2009


Published July 12, 2009 by jean cohen

I had my interview with BathToy the other night.  I simply had to do it.  I really wanted to meet a guy who’s blatantly looking for some nookie on the side and specifically ‘someone with time during the day would be ideal, evenings are difficult for me although not totally impossible, and a place to be alone together would be a bonus.’   Please don’t email to remind me that I already tried one of those; I so know.  I just really wanted to meet this guy.  I thought he must be pretty amazing if he can get women to buy into that.


In reality, he was boring and pretentious.  And those were his good points.  Obviously if he’s a cheater, he lies.  And he lied about his looks, too.  I’m tall, and fairly good looking, even sexy!! (I’m told)’.  Someone else he dated or his wife is a big fat liar, too. Well, okay, he was tall.  But not even remotely attractive, or well dressed.  I couldn’t decide whether to ask him ‘Do you ever feel guilty about hurting your wife’ first or ‘did you  actually look in the mirror after you put that shirt on with that suit and tie?’   Being totally honest, if he’d been a cross between Sean Connery, Sting and Steve McNair before his girlfriend shot him in the head four times (give me a minute here… I need to cool down) I might have been tempted to shag him a few times just for the hell of it. 


We met for a drink, and I couldn’t get out of there fast enough. I heard about every single vacation he’d ever had in the States.  I know what Orlando’s like; I’ve bloody been there.  And San Francisco, and Boston, and Seattle.  Then he tried to impress me with an anecdote about a visit to the Moulin Rouge.  Wow!  The Moulin Rouge!  Gee!  “Have you ever been” he asked.  “The one in Paris” I countered, ‘or the one in Abiline, Texas?  The one in Abiline is okay; the one in Paris is so tacky what with all the British tourists paying 75 quid for a bottle of cheap champagne and thinking they’re so sophisticated. I always tried to talk my clients into going to McDonald’s instead.”  


He said he’d ring, so this morning I zinged him with a pre-emptive strike, the ‘I’m not interested’ email (the polite one, not the slice his nuts off one; he wasn’t a groper or whatever).  I moved him to the ‘Toast’ folder, cheerfully singing along to Cousin Lenny.  Well, I was cheerful; Lenny was moaning about razor blades and gas pipes. 


Wow.  BathToy actually replied.  ‘To be honest, right from the moment you walked into the garden, I had the impression that you took one look at me and decided that you really didn’t like me. You were perfectly polite company but I had the feeling that you couldn’t wait to get out of there. That impression may well have been wrong but in any case, as you said…. you felt no spark at all.’  I’m no Helen Mirren, but I thought I was a better actress than that.  Should I feel bad or something that I hurt his manly feelings?


Otherwise, with a few exceptions, it’s been just more of the same old ‘u r sesy wanna chat’ mash notes at POF.  I’m starting to despair for the future of the human race.  These guys are not the anomaly; they’re the norm.  But a few of the funniest anyway…


Kenny 761 isn’t married.  However, he is 5’3” and his hobby is stock car racing.  I don’t think I have any clothes that came with a label ‘suitable for debut at the English equivalent of ‘Cecil County Dragway’.   His email: ‘hello how are you today’  Again, I hate that question too.  Why do they ask dumb unanswerable questions?  Do they mean ‘how am I’ in a general way; how ‘am I today’ specifically as opposed to yesterday when I might have had a Jappy moment when something I tried on didn’t look perfect or some server didn’t snap to it as quickly as I’d expected; or how ‘am I’ in the ‘we are the world’ and/or the ‘brotherhood of man’ context.  No, in retrospect, forget the philosophical twaddle; if the only thing he can say about himself is that he likes stock cars he probably just means ‘I don’t give a rat’s ass how you are; I just wanna shag you.’  Bye-bye, Dirt Track Guy.


IanforFun is ‘looking for a sexy woman’ – He has an ulterior motive – ‘I love cycling and enjoy the outdoors. I am an inventor and working on a new exiting everday product, may try dragons den? Some people think me eccentric and pehaps i am, you judge! My musical tastes are hugh and like everything from chopin through pink floyd to electronica like goldfrap, anything that can transport me on a journey of the mind. I often like to cross dress although i am straight, if you contact me i will email you a saucy picture!’  And I thought phishing scams from Nigeria were naughty.

‘Well of course a first date has to be somewhere comfortable and but public where a chat is possiable. a caf’e or a bar without crowds and a pleasant atmosphere. I am a romantic at heart but also a GSOH. i like to dress well and hope that the person dresses like a lady with a hint of sexiness.’  That is so dangerous.  We could both turn up wearing the same Donna Karan Signature Coat Dress (the one with all the buttons) in Butterscotch.  How embarrassing would that be?  What if he found the perfect shade of chocolate pumps?  I still haven’t.


On the other hand, IanforFun just might be the one.  He mentioned clothes and dressing like seven times.  Hell, we might be Soul Mates!  So he cross-dresses.  He might have more expensive taste than me and be a Warm Autumn.  How big is this guy?  Shit!  He’s 6’ tall.  And his bloody feet are probably huge too.  I’m not going to fit in any of his ‘her’ clothes or shoes.  Maybe he adores Louis Vuitton and Chanel?


‘Dear Secret Shopper:  We might work.  A little quiz to determine if we’re on the same page in Vogue:


(a)            On which date does one begin wearing white (i.e. divine Betty Buckley trousers)?  Hint:  It’s a holiday in the States.

(b)             Can Warm Autumns appear in public wearing black and white like that bloody cow Pinkie?

(c)            On which date does one put away their stunning white Juicy Couture handbag ‘til ‘next year’?’  


BradX is 29 and he’s looking for a ‘gorgeous woman’.  I so want to hear from the first guy who’s looking for a ‘total Bow-Wow’.  His about me: im just a half decent honest bloke, looking for for a half decent honest girl and im startin to think that is to much to ask i live in surrey, i work as a drayman delivering tons of beer to you lot to keep you all happy although i dont really drink a lot .  Been single for a while now and am bored of my own company now If your sort of local then give us a message if you like the look of me ‘


And his idea of a first date: ‘do you know what i would love to go home thinkin what a wicked night she was well funny we proper clicked, and in my opinion that aint happenin over dinner is it i think dinner is a bit to serious for a first date  we’ll know what we want to do when we get talking’

I swear; he really wrote that.


And his email: ‘mmmm you are hot im not to far from you lets hook up’


‘Dear Braindead…Brad….Whatever – Are you quite certain you only deliver the beer?  And frankly, is this what I get for paying that exorbitant Council Tax to Surrey?  You’re not incarcerated and are free to wander the verdant country lanes in a truck looking for anorexic women who don’t eat dinner?’


Sirtified007 is not looking for a date!  What he said was just looking or the occassional chat, im abit flirtatious, so be warned ladies,’   He’s a 53 year old man who wants to talk dirty on line.  How pathetic is that?  Through the magic of cyberspace, I can provide a valuable service and help Sirty get his rocks off.  Do you think that would help my score in The Book next Yom Kippur? I mean I have been a teensy bit unkind to some folks this year.


His email: ‘Not a bra tutt been much better if ud have left it to our fantasies, i mean at our agwe we dont get many fantasies these days xx’


‘I know what you mean!  I have this fantasy that there’s a guy on POF who isn’t a wanker.’


Far2Hot_Scott may think he is, but he’s deluded.  He’s 29 and in his pic he’s bare-chested in his BVDs.  He lists his interests as: fashion, shoes and aftershave.  Maybe there is a commonality after all.  Nope.  His about me says: ‘love all women, love to socialise, go out meet new people, like to have fun and want to live life to the full before i think im too old!!,’  Maybe he should stop listening to Snow Patrol.  ‘first date would be relaxing and what ever happens happens, go with the flow, anyway i dont look at it like a date, thats a 60s phrase!!’   Oh, please.  I am au courant with the current terminology; it’s called ‘fuck buddies’.


Scotty’s email:  ‘would love to hook up w you’


I wasn’t being lazy or having an off day creatively.  Really.  I tried for hours to come up with a great put-down.  I know it wasn’t one of my best efforts.


‘Yo, Scotty! I just beamed you up…back to Planet Dickweed, where the rest of the Turds live .’



And the winner of the prestigious Turd of Camberley Award is TomtheGuy.  TomtheChelseaSupporter (Come on…it’s so obvious that’s what he should have chosen) lists his interests as ‘sexy ladies’.   Yep, that’s it; it’s the only interest he has.  Perhaps his wife isn’t—sexy, I mean.  He candidly admits to being married.  On the first date he’d like to wine and dine the lady and then take it from there.’   I wonder where or what ‘there’ could be?

His email: ‘I fancy the pants off you xxxxx’.


Sometimes I just delete them, sometimes I’m nice; sometimes I just have to let it rip.


‘Really? I can’t imagine why you thought that would be flattering.  Especially since ‘fancy’ wasn’t the word that came to my mind when I read your profile.


Let’s see… married.  Hm.  ‘Cheater’ popped right up. And ‘jerk’.  As did ‘trolling for easy sex’.  Oops!  That was more than one word, wasn’t it?


Well here’s three more:  Definitely not interested.’


He actually replied.  ‘I couldn’t be arsed to bother going on dates’   I’m not quite sure what that meant, but I do know Armageddon is upon us.



Published July 8, 2009 by jean cohen

The capricious weather changed on a dime and it’s cold again.  Make that a ’20p’.  Fortunately, I wasn’t dumb enough this year to put my woolies away.  I covered a shift at Sam, turning up layered with a turtleneck, a (cute) top and a sweater.  I could have used my mink by the end of shift.  And an umbrella.  I gratefully accepted a ride home from Mike, and not because I’m lazy. 


My campaign, at least, is heating up nicely.  I don’t remember if I mentioned the election before.  I am running for Committeeperson-at-Large.  Well, I didn’t realize I was running.  I thought Sanjay caught me in a weak moment and I agreed to be on the Senior Centre’s Committee.  I’m pretty sure nobody else on the committee is even capable of running.  But I have to be endorsed by two people to get on the ballot and then voted in.  (“Who’s this Jeano person on the ballot?  Is she the one who plays the piano?” “No.  That’s Jenny and she’s Korean.  Jeano’s the American lady in the Tea Bar.”  “Oh.”  “We have a Tea Bar?”)


I have received a rousing endorsement from Jack, the president, and today, while they were putting up pictures of the candidates (I provided my own; I looked dreadful in the one Sanjay took) positively everybody wanted to endorse me.  Except Mary.


This is a difficult situation.  Mary is a sweet-looking, quite elderly woman.  Appearances are deceptive.  She is several knives short of a Ginsu set and more vicious that Imelda Marcos at the Nordstrum MidWinter Shoe Extravaganza.  She has an obsession with Charles, one of the Meals-on-Wheels drivers.  She has practically comes to blows over him with Jackie, another of the old dears to sit next to him.  At the Volunteer Recognition Dinner this year, I danced with Charles.  Mary saw a picture of it, and now she throws her 70p at me and snarls “Tea!  Not too strong.  And a sausage roll that’s not burnt.”  I’m afraid to go to the loo without a bodyguard.


“This is so silly” I said this morning to Sharon, one of the carers, after Mary had a sissy-fit because I sold Charles a half-dozen eggs.  Maybe I smiled at him by mistake; I really didn’t mean to.  I quite understand the concept of ‘service’ in England now.  Customers are an interruption to the enjoyment of one’s personal nirvana.  “Charles is gay.  He lives with his mother.  Can’t you explain that to her?”  “She doesn’t know what ‘gay’ is.”


“Peachy!” I replied. “I always figured if I got dead in England it would be because I still look the wrong way when I cross the street.  I don’t want to die because of a love triangle with a gay guy and a 94 year old woman who’s senile and wears polyester slacks.”


I’ve got two dates this week.  Yeah, I’m still interviewing for Replacement Guy.  The POF emails are still pouring in, but I have gone off writing about them, I think.  They’re still funny, and I save a few in case I need to dash off a blog if I have a dry stretch in my exciting life.  But I manage, inadvertently, to do enough clueless stuff to fill a blog a day.  Fortunately, for you, I don’t share them all.


I turned on the television the other night to catch up on what Michael Jackson’s up to these days, now that he’s dead.  Horror of horrors!  The picture’s just a mass of squiggily lines.  I’m not stupid.  I found the manual for the TV and read it.  Okay.  I am stupid.  And Donny the D who made a lucrative living catching tvs as they accidentally fell off trucks is in bloody Manyunk.  Push hold and call the Irish Lad.


Tee dropped everything (a Fosters) and drove around the corner.  I met him at the door with a cup of coffee (the real stuff from Costco, saved for special occasions) and a fag.  “Let’s take a look” he said kindly, turning on the telly.  (Wow.  He got the right remote the first time.  I have to use the instructions Boo wrote out for me and laminated.)  The picture obliging jiggled shamelessly.  “Hm” the Lad said knowledgeably.  He walked over to the fucker intoning some Irish pixie spell, stared it down, and pushed in a wire that had come loose when the Mad Venezuelans were cleaning the lounge.  The picture stopped jiggling. 


“Hm” I said.  “I guess you won’t be needing any of those pink tools BooBoo bought me for Channukah.”  “No” replied the Lad, with the patented shit-eating maniacal pixie grin, “Blog!”


And in a new segment of the blog dubbed ‘My Friends Are So Fucking Hysterically Sarcastic and/or Smart Ass’ this week’s winner is…. The Mule-ess.


Muffin Man and the Divine Mrs M. are making a pit stop in the UK on their way to – and from – Spain.  I dashed off a quick email asking if we’d have a chance to catch up while she’s here.  The itinerary she emailed back didn’t have an open minute.  7:00 am arrive.  9:00 am drinks at the Mare.  10:00 am more drinks at the Mare.  11:00 am Drinks at the Runner.  And so on.  I emailed back saying that Pinkie and I would just catch up with her when we’re on the Garden State in October.  Back came a zinger.


‘how about a coffee at T5 heathrow on 26-of july?  Seeing that you love the coffee at LHR.  (Sorry i could not help myself.)’


I called and woke Pinkie up so I could read that little gem to her.  Hey!  That’s not a bad idea!  ‘Great idea!!! We’ll be the hot chicks in the Eagles’ jerseys.  Will coordinate time etc. closer but def. coffee at T5.  Yo!  Maybe Turd of Camberley will be there too!  We’ll have a party.’


‘i am so glad to see that i haven’t lost my touch and i can still wind you up. how about asking the pilot guy to join us as well. Oh i could bring the jews with me, sorry i forgot this the departure side of my trip not the arrivals.’


‘Yeah.  You’re really good!!! 
‘I called and woke Pinkie up to read your email to her.  Could picture you saying ‘couldn’t help myself’ and cackling like a Jersey girl. And Na-na-na-na, Stuart is bringing the Jews when he arrives on the 14th.  I hope he doesn’t try to bring anything else, if ya know what I’m saying. 
Seriously, we’ll come over to T5 and meet ya at Costa for a cup of joe.  Great idea to invite Unfriendly Guy too!  Is there anybody else we seriously hate that we should invite?’



Published July 5, 2009 by jean cohen

BooBoo and Spook Guy are both tired of the POF blogs.  I know I haven’t mentioned Spook Guy.  Duh!  If I told you about him, he’d have to kill you.  And me.  And I haven’t had a chance to wear that stunning Roberto Cavalli skirt yet.  (on sale; practically free.)


So… a regular blog – all about my mundane and rather ordinary life.  


Another dashing about week in Weybridge; work, Sam shifts and social engagements.  In the blistering heat and bloody sunshine.  Doesn’t it ever rain in this goddamned country?  It’s hard to dash when I’m melting.  I have stopped wearing my thermal undies.  I will never complain about being cold again.


It must have been a hundred degrees at the Senior Centre on Tuesday morning.  But that didn’t stop a queue from forming for ‘nice cups of tea’.  “They’re all senile” I snarled to my partner, as Wacky Winnie repeated her normal Tuesday morning instructions: “Save a sausage roll for the driver.  I paid for it already.”  Yes, I know she did.  But it was once, and it was in 1987, when the bus driver still had hair and teeth.  (Win mucho fancies him.)  “Why don’t we whip up a few pitchers of Long Island Iced Tea ‘because of the heat’” I suggested half-seriously, “We’ll get through the morning and it’s not like anybody will notice if they’re comatose at Bingo.”


Meanwhile, the Jewish American Prince thinks of something else he wants to see or do while he’s here about every ten minutes.  And calls to tell me.  “Rent a car and we’ll go on a road trip!” he ordered me the other morning.  “To where” I asked a bit grumpily.  “I only know how to get to Walton or Addlestone.”  “Sat Nav!” he replied.  “England!” I countered. “No sat-nav, no A/C, no power anything, and definitely not automatic, unless you feel like buying a Jag while you’re here and leaving it for me after you go.”


Of course, if you’re reading this, Stuart Sweetie, I meant the ‘Prince’ comment as the highest form of praise.  We trained you well.  And could ya add two bottles of Hidden Valley Ranch dressing and a pound of Habersett’s scrapple to my dire necessities list?


Wednesday night was Psychic Night.  BooBoo, Jeanette and I paid a visit to the Church of the Poisoned Mind.  Being psychics and whatnot, I would have thought they would have known it was going to be 110 degrees in the shade, and prepared for it.  They didn’t; Spiritual Indian Guide Wept! It was hot.  Pocohantas (the minister) didn’t even have feathers in her braids.  But we sang Hymn #4 in our Praying to Dead Busybodies handbooks, ‘Your Love Took Me to the Top of the World’ (with Richard & Karen; she is dead, you know).


Maybe it was the heat, or maybe just that I’m an awful person.  The Facilitator of the week, who was leading our journey to hear uplifting and really, really hokey cliches from ghosts, had a speech impediment.  So she said stuff like: “I’m sshtanding wif a wady wif a wery fwancy hairdo.”  I got the giggles.  And I fell in lust with the guy sitting in front of me.  I don’t think the two were connected, but who knows? It might have been a cosmic thing.   Great Commanche Chieftain!  He was so  h-o-t.  Well, so was I.  But he was gorgeous, too.  So I amused myself by flirting shamelessly with him and making fun of Miss ‘I’m sshtanding’ who went into a hysterically funny twitchy trance every time a new spirit joined the party.  Pocohontas actually hollered at me.  She said I was ‘disturbing the spirits’.  Yeah?  Well they were getting on my last nerve, too.  Really Hot Guy’s wife wasn’t doing too bad either.


Unsurprisingly, given the incredulous vibes emanating from my corner of the sauna, neither BooBoo nor Jeanette, or especially me, got any messages from Beyond.  BooBoo was disappointed; she said it was all my fault.


Thursday night was the Ash Tree Quiz.  Pinkie skipped, so it was Cheese Boy, Irish Lad, Rob-o and me.  With the addition of Stuart from the Scary Fairies.  So we were the Scary Bitches.  Since I was the only team member of the female persuasion, that might have been a subtle message to me.  No!  Of course not. 


Let me make short shrift of the quiz – we lost – and get to the funny bit.  Irish Lad was driving, and heading back to Weybridge afterwards, I was enjoying one of Rob-o’s rants about absolutely nothing (he is such a hoot when he’s pissed).  Tee had Cousin Lenny pumped up on the sound system and we were analyzing the metaphors in ‘Dress Rehearsal Rag’ (Consumer warning:  Do not listen to aforementioned tune if you’ve gained 5 lbs, been dumped by a Turd, or Pinkie bought another fucking black & white dress and brought it to Sam to model for you); yeah, it’s a little depressing.


Anyway, nobody was paying attention, and Tee drove to Tudor Walk.  He sort of stopped the car and went “Um… you don’t live here any more.”  Rob-o, naturally, chimed in 5 minutes later with “Jeano doesn’t live here anymore!”  (Did I mention he’s really funny when he’s pissed?)  I looked at Tee; he looked at me.  “Blog?” he whimpered.  “Oh yeah, Sweetie” I chuckled maniacally, if not quite as Univac-ly as I would have wished, “You are so blogged.”


Friday night I went to the Oneg Shabbat at Syn.  Mr. Waitrose whipped up a lovely quiche, which I left sitting on the counter and didn’t remember until I was halfway to the synagogue.  I bet it was a lot cooler Friday night than it was on Saturday morning at shul.  Our discussion after dinner was on tents.  Not that I’ve ever stayed in one, mind you.  It’s really that passage in Midrash that says ‘How lovely are your tents…’ and it really is about community and the people with whom we build our support networks.  As always, I felt like there were several specific messages directed at me. 


And I’m grateful.  I have an amazing network of friends and people whom I can always rely on.  I am not alone in my wilderness.  Take BooBoo, for instance.  She is always there; just like Canada.


Saturday was the 4th of July.  But not here.  They just skip it and go right to the 5th.  My phone went off all day with texts from friends and the Irish Lad wishing me a happy ‘We Kicked Some Serious British Tush’ Day.  Strangely, there were no fireworks, John Philip Sousa, or barbecues here; that I heard about or got invited to.  I proudly wore my American flag shirt anyway, hoping the Italians wouldn’t pick that day to make a surprise Favorite Citizenship inspection.  And I played my ‘American’ playlist, really loud.  I was a little homesick, which I didn’t expect.  But it was my choice to postpone the Festa di Independenza until Stuart’s here.


I know I said this wouldn’t be a POF blog, but I can’t resist adding this contact on the blog.  Another ‘First’!   His initial email was actually okay.  “Hi, I’m Mark? What do you think of my profile?”   Hm.  His screen name is Bootlicker.  That’s a little odd.  Maybe Bootlicker69, or Licking 69Boots was already taken.  What does he say about himself?  Oh Dear.  ‘hi i am a young 54 year old professional from bedfordshire who enjoys meals out and in and a social drink and holidays abroad especially america. as my name implies i am a submissive guy seeking a dominant and demanding lady for a long term relationship: so what have you to lose by contacting me!!!!’ 


Despite stating that he’s looking for ‘a dominant leather clad lady’ I replied politely.  ‘Hi, Mark – I hope it was meant to be tongue-in-cheek or self-deprecating…  While I am a Jewish American Princess and realize that men exist merely to cater to my every whim, I’m not into kinky.’


Reply from GrovelGuy: ‘it’s true that i love a lady in black leather and boots and i do adore serving and pleasing a dominant lady in whatever way she demands but wouldnt say i was particularly kinky just submissive mark’


Oh shit!  This guy wasn’t kidding.  Okay.  Analyze the situation.  Make a list.


Reasons to go out with Bootlicker:  a) New wardrobe, and all of it yummy leather.  b) lots of boots; a girl can never have too many pairs of boots; ironing slowly reaching the ceiling. 


‘Dear Submissive One – a tiny problem.  Is that ‘black’ leather thingy written in stone?  Could we negotiate on ‘Biscuit’ or perhaps a lovely ‘Ripe Wheat’?  You see, I’m a Warm Autumn and Ruby says I can’t wear black any more.  I would so not be able to concentrate on hitting you with my whip or walking on you in my (new) high heeled boots if they, and my undies, were black.  I would be worrying ‘Gosh! Do I look washed out? Am I not at my absolutely most radiant under this mask?’  Not very erotic.  Actually, thanks, but no thanks.’



Published July 2, 2009 by jean cohen

I know I shouldn’t spoil you; blogs don’t just appear out of thin air because you wished upon a star and you’re dying to read the next installment.  This has been a very busy week in my real life, and on POF.  But I was ‘In the Zone’ writing an email blast on ‘optimal values achieved from IT projects’ and I thought ‘this reminds me of some of those wankers who emailed this week…’


So here goes.  This was such a banner crop, I simply couldn’t settle on one to win the prestigious Turd of Camberley award this week.  I guess they’re all really ‘winners’.


GetCarter1962 is just looking for encounters with woman. ‘,,,meets,,,more n more,,,dont care if u smoke as long as its very light,,,build dont care,,,,bring it on oh! by the way if you keep on looking at my profile ,,message me ,, dont bite! wine and dinner are sometimes included lol ‘


So many guys; so little time (what with shopping, who has time for ‘meets’).


‘PeanutGuy – Such a relief!  Wine and dinner are a welcome bonus to shagging you but really not necessary, as long as I can fire up a Marlboro afterwards.’


BabyFaceJay is 5’6” and 26; his waist is 46 and his IQ is 66  Yo Hello my Earthlings! lol x well I’m Jay, I’m 25 yrs old and my nicknames > babyface snoop° partly because I make music, write songs – R&B and other mixure’s… Produce movies to DVD – HD – blue-ray etc… I used to be a hair stylist but I felt like having a chance into doing some think more fun and practical so now I work self employed – repairing gadgets, phones, computers etc. . .
I’m mixed race, brown eyes, black funky hair, I’ve got my eye brow pierced with a hoop and my ears pierced. I’m a vegetarian and have been all my life!! might be why I’ve still got that baby face at 25 rarrr x
I’d describe myself as a genuine – down to earth – intelligent – kind – caring – honest – easy going – affectionate – fun loving – naughty but nice 😉
I’m into movies, music, dancing, ufology – astronomy, cinerma, fun nights out, fun nights staying in,
just like having good fun times in life – go with the flow

I’m looking to meet a Intelligent, good personality, easy going, honest, kind, caring, fun loving girl, who likes lots of cuddles kisses, hot loving, watching movies together, cinerma, bowling etc. . . . good times out, fun nights staying in and seeing different places….

No one is perfect not even me! but I’m just beginning honest here so I have to say this one thing: If you’re the type of person who’s b*tchy, moody, aggressive, paranoid, very controlling, player, can’t put in no time and In 2 different minds all the time ( 1 minute nice – next minute nasty ) then dont contact me please!! because I don’t need a mentally ill moody girl in my life! 

I know it sounds harsh but you know it’s true x I know none of you girls would want someone like that because it’s not kool. . . If I’ve offended anyone then i’m sorry!’


And for the first date, Baby has come up with a novel idea: ‘do somethin fun  Talking to Baby would probably be enough fun to last anyone a lifetime.


His email:  ‘how r u?  sexy’   I know; it drives me up the wall too.  Did he mean ‘how r u, sexy?’ or ‘ how r u? U r sexy’?  I wish they could be a little clearer. 


Dyin4abit lives in Horney-in-the-Sac, UK or so he claims.   I couldn’t find it on MapQuest.  ‘would like some sexy emails to spice up my life
my wife hates sex and im fed up. just need some fun the saucier the better.  i got deleted for some reason if we spoke before re add me to faves its depressing starting on here again..ive managed to keep the same username. had loads of favourites. x love tattoed boobs and naughtyness’


I wonder why he got kicked off the site.  He just wants some penpals.  I had a penpal when I was ten.  She lived in France.  She did not expect ‘benefits’ or pictures of me without my clothes.


Anyway, FreakGuy’s email was actually too graphic to reproduce.  It was all about…  Use your imagination.  And your ‘inside voice’ when you go ‘Eew!’.


GreenMark has a partner but:  on here looking for that little extra fun in my life,not after marriage justfun fun fun with like minded lady or 2,lol.I can hold a good conversation on most subjects and have avery broad minded out klook on life’.  His interests include ‘reading, nature, sport and oral sex’.

His email: ‘shokced when i saw your phoot thought you was in mid 20’s not 50 your weell fit and tasty love mark xxx ‘


My email: ‘Shocked when I read your profile, followed by that truly pathetic email.  You’re disgusting.’


Art Lover’s profile was a work of art.  Hello my name is Guarionex, but my friends just call me Guario. I am a down-to-earth life long New Yorker, a Hispanic-American (English is my first language (speak Spanish poorly)). I am not the party animal type and hate games. I’ve worn nice suits, but prefer jeans. I have a master in sociology, but make my living in art.

I consider myself an artist and absolutely LOVE art, especially fine art abstract photography…have had gallery shows, been in magazines, in many collections, all over the net, etc. I work long hours on my art and it becomes hard to meet a nice lady. A lady who will respond when, for no reason, I suddenly hold her hand and also understand that, at times, I will need a little space. A woman who knows that a pair consist of two ones. I feel a good relationship begins with honest conversation from both sides; a solid friendship is the best foundation. Along with art I also like history. My TV viewing consists mostly of PBS.

Keeping it real I must state that I’m a smoker and have been separated for nearly four years now. I would like to find someone that is an artist or, at least, into the arts.

Ladies, one small request please have a RECENT photo of your self. Most of you state you are looking for an honest gentleman, honesty starts with your photo.


And for the first date: What I would most seek in a first date is Truth, for it will be the foundation on to which we can build. Perhaps we would build a house of Friendship, perhaps a cottage of love, perhaps both … but truth is the required tool in the building.

A small meeting in a coffee shop, a walk in Central Park … a quiet, small “getting to know you” moment. It does matter what you wear, but want you say and, just as important, what you think.’


 His email was a poem:

‘A woman walks down a street
And the guys on the corner stop
Stop working
Stop talking
Their bodies still
Their eyes darting
And when she has passed
They say
“did you see that?
She’s hot,
very hot”

After seeing your photos, hot is too cold a word. ‘


Wow!  This guy sounds hot!  I want to build a cottage of love!  I have some cute painters overalls that I hardly ever wear.  Let my fingers do the walking and email him back pronto.  Coffee sounds nice…  Wait a minute!!! In Central Park?  Isn’t that, like, in New York?  He must have meant Hyde Park.  Silly Guario.  Nope.  He lives in New York.  Maybe he doesn’t speak English as well as he thinks.  Maybe they didn’t offer ‘World Geography’ as an elective while he was getting that Master’s Degree.


‘Dear Artie – When do you arrive in England?  I need to clear my diary and hit the DIY.’


BathToy is interviewing for the coveted slot of his mistress.  I confess.  I have been very bad and have led him on.  As with all the cheaters on the site, he doesn’t have a picture up.  His profile says: ‘In a long term relationship, that has got mundane and boring but I don’t want to end it. I want to find a new playmate to put a bit of sparkle in both our lives. Don’t want to wreck any relationships. Someone with time during the day would be ideal, evenings are difficult for me although not totally impossible, and a place to be alone together occasionally would be a bonus just in case there’s a spark, but again, not strictly necessary though. I’m tall, and fairly good looking, even sexy!! (I’m told) but you’d have to judge for yourself on that one…lol. Your age, build & looks etc. are not important to me as long as you have a personality. I’m good company with a irreverent sense of humour and well mannered. I’m also very discrete (would expect the same from you).  As everyone knows, I am the soul of discretion.  Oh, so what? 


Mike, is that you again?  Wow!  That ‘Writing Skills for Bottom Feeders’ I picked up for 2 quid at Sam and sent you really helped. A lot.  I sure hope Karen doesn’t open your mail!  Glad to see you specified that ‘evenings are difficult’ part and a masterful stroke hinting that she’d better have her own place ‘cause you’re not about to pop for even a ‘By the Hour’ Motel, let alone a meal.  And ‘mundane’ and ‘boring’ sounds way better than ‘clinically depressed and not giving me any nooky’’.  That bullshit about the ‘personality’ was a tad overdone, though.  You guys all say that on here.  Except for SmallBoobsOnly, and, seriously, how many shags is he scoring?  Anyway, Sweetie, B+!   PS When did you move to Guildford?


BathToy is hoping to come over and ‘interview me’ next week.  HaHaHaHaHa! is my first guy of ‘that persuasion’.  He’s from Amman, but actually most of the people in England are, in fact, Arabs, so it was only a matter of time. ‘Im just nice caring and pasinate guy straight ,i have many friends and i like to spend time with them if i have that
romantic if there r girl worth that and i think all ppl nice if u have that pure heart and mind.’
  I hate when they start that ‘pure heart and mind’ crap.  My heart and mind are fine… just the way they are.


His email: ‘hello how r u? u look so cute’


‘Dear Ramah-ramah Ding Dong – I may look ‘cute’ but I must confess.  Not a virgin.  Gave that slice of paradise up many Ramadans ago after a Grateful Dead concert in Cambridge.  It seemed like a fine idea at the time.   (No…The one in Massachusetts; yeah, I’m a card carrying member of that Evil Empire …and I’m Jewish, too .  Gee. It’s really not your day, huh, Mustapha?)  So I guess I can’t be waiting for you after you blow up Westminster Abbey or Big Ben and yourself. Shalom.’


Dins1960 is ‘looking for a beautiful sexy lady’.  Yeah, well I’m looking for a Jewish Cardiologist named Wolfie.  Everybody’s looking for something.  It’s a fucking epidemic.  And Dins is…how can I say this nicely… U. G. L. Y.


I m a fun loving guy, just out for a good time. Still like clubbing and enjoying life!!! Varied taste in music. I m a nutter! Want to be a millionaire!!!
Want to travel the world! Would enjoy sitting in with a beautiful lady with a good dvd and a nice bottle of wine’ 
And for the first date: ‘Take you to the moon and back!!!’


Sure.  And you’ll probably expect me to handle the tickets and passports and stuff ‘cause I used to be a tour escort.  And I’ve probably been to the moon already.  Maybe that crazy trip to Austria.  I didn’t remember being in Innsbruck until I saw Lisa’s pictures.  We could have made a pit stop on the Moon.


Astronaut Guy likes outer space so much, his email carried on with that theme: ‘Would like to take you to the stars and watch you explode’


Gee, thanks.  Did you have to pick a Black Hole or Super Nova?  Couldn’t we just go to Orion to have sex like ordinary people?


‘Why don’t you go first?  On a one-way ticket.’