Wednesday, September 17, 2008

While I go off and spend a few days with a friend, a random pull from the mailbag for you to enjoy…

I just read your article about meeting new people, and that is the only piece of yours I have ever read. I don't know who you are- I'm new in town- and in fact, I'm not very familiar with the kinky stuff you mention.
I'm 24 soon/ m/ thin. Work f/t.
Would you like to chat, with somebody not from your scene?
Thanks/ cheers,
Not a groupie of yours

Before it was published, I was telling Monk about the column this gentleman is referring to, and he said “Oh, man – you know you’re going to get a ton of guys emailing you, asking to go on dates with you.”

“Oh, do you think so? No. I mean – the point of the piece is my expectation - and then the reality - of how it would feel interacting with people who didn’t know me as Matisse. And if you’re a stranger, reading my column, then… You do know me as Matisse.” I made a little so-you-see gesture with my hands.

“Sweetheart, when did reality ever get in the way of a guy with a hard-on?”

Monk does cut to the heart of the matter, doesn’t he? But I actually only got this one email. And I must say I am amused at the sender’s attempt to simultaneously admit knowing who I am – because he read my column, and yet still claim to not know who I am - because he perceives that’s what I want. Takes some verbal gymnastics to hold two mutually exclusive positions at the same time. This man should work for the McCain campaign.

And I’m not sure what to think about the idea that you could read even one of my columns and not be instantly transformed into a groupie. What, I didn't change your whole life in 525 words? Pah! Clearly, sir, you have no discernment, no understanding of my complete literary fabulousness! (Can men even be groupies? I always thought that term was applied to women exclusively.)

I also wonder if this man really and truly sent me this email without checking on one vital bit of information about me first – my photos. The implication is that he knows nothing about me but that one column. But, come on - if he didn’t Google up a picture of me before firing off this note, then he is unlike any guy I have ever known. Hell, that’s what I’d do.

In case you were wondering: no, I’m not dating anyone new right now. I don’t foresee doing so anytime soon, either. It’s a charming idea, but not very feasible. We say in polyamory that it’s not the amount of love one has to give that’s the limiting factor in how many relationships you can have, it’s the amount of time you have to give to them. Ain’t that the truth?

And if for no other reason, I would decline this invitation because of the slash-marks and the abbreviations. I reluctantly accept them in text messages. Reluctantly. But email does not charge by the word, and first impressions count. If you cannot be bothered to write out simple words like “male” and “full-time”, well – one wonders what else you’d take shortcuts with. I am a writer. Do not shortchange the language with me, friends. That doesn’t make me swoon.

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