What it feels like for a girl.

So hey, a reader submitted her own tale of a Craigslist encounter! That’s awesome.

If you have a story you would like me to post (anonymously), you can send it to me at craigslist.tumblr@gmail.com. Ideally a story about Craigslist but I suppose any online dating-related disasters would be fine. I know not everyone wants to bare that stuff on their personal blog.

I love how close this is to some of my own experiences. Hipster self-hatred! Disappointment! Damn right. It’s funnier than mine though. Dudes on the internet (excluding myself obv.) be crazy.

So anyway here is this cool girl’s cool story:

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The Story of N.

N. was the most attractive girl I ever met through Craigslist. And I fucked her. Or perhaps more accurately, she fucked me; but we’ll get to that.

This happened a long time ago. I always meant to write about her but for whatever reason I haven’t. That reason could be that this is not a story that makes me look super awesome (in spite of the first two sentences in this post) but it’s not as if that’s stopped me before.

Maybe in writing this I’ll figure it out. I mean, maybe this story won’t even seem that remarkable to you but it still haunts me.

Then again, there is at least one reason I can think of to explain why this yarn still strikes me as particularly memorable:

I almost die at the end.

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Why is your face glittery?
Do tell!

Shit. Alright, let’s just say that if someone wears a lot of eye make-up and gets kind of sweaty then someone else might get glittery.

But in these situations you should heed your instincts. Like if the first thing you notice about someone’s house is that it smells like a million clove cigarettes and the second is a squadron of prescription bottles, you only have yourself to blame for allowing things to progress to the sweaty part.

Hopefully you learn that next time you should put your hoodie and PF Flyers back on immediately, toss off some awkward excuses, then run far and run fast.

(But I don’t. I don’t learn.)

Flowers of romance.

How many orgasms is it polite to give someone before you ask for their w33d connection?

Three? I hope it’s three.

Your princess is in another castle.

So it’s kinda been awhile since I wrote about actually meeting a girl from Craigslist.

Not for lack of effort. But as on any dating site — and maybe even moreso on CL — a likely prospect can suddenly just disappear. There was the “ethically non-monogamous” girl who asked me out, then backed off and told me she needed to consult her girlfriend first. I never heard from her again. (Don’t you wish your girlfriend was hot like me.) There was another girl who sounded really ready to go but gave off a slightly crazy vibe, so in that case it was me backing off. There was a third girl who sounded pretty cool but was too shy to send me a photo so I’m not counting on anything there.

It often happens that after putting in all this “work” to meet someone, a new, good date option with whom it’s simple to schedule a meeting appears out of nowhere. This is precisely what happened a few weeks ago. Idly browsing the (mostly bogus/flagged/prostitute-posted) Casual Encounters ads I saw one that looked genuine and genuinely interesting. It was from a girl who suggested something along the lines of “let’s hang out on my porch and make art, maybe have a drink or a smoke and see where the day takes us.” She was speaking my language.

I was so optimistic, in fact, that I did something I never have before.

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After Portnoy: Three Men On Writing About Sex


As someone who is out there about sex, do you notice that in the sex positive world most of the visible writers are women?

"I think that women probably dominate what we think of as erotica. Also there’s definitely, in the writing that we consider erotica, almost no straight males."


It looks as though I follow…oh, two straight males on Tumblr.

I don’t think I know anyone in Real Life to discuss this with either but it’s pretty darn interesting.

There goes the neighborhood.

Last night, I noticed that the furniture was gone from my neighbor’s deck. I walked down my back stairs, across to her side of the complex and up to her top floor deck for a closer look. I peered through her kitchen window and saw that the apartment was empty. She moved out.

We met last spring at a party provided by the management of our apt. complex. I didn’t know anyone there but I approached a small group of people my age to chat, and soon all of us decided to head to the neighborhood bar as the party offered nothing stronger than 7up. There were two couples plus me and this girl. Eventually the rest of the group went home and we two kept drinking.

She was not, I think, a girl many people would find attractive, or at least that many guys would pay attention too. She was short, wore glasses and baggy clothes and sandals and no make-up and a ponytail. This is how she looked every day that I ever saw her. It’s always kind of difficult for me to understand why someone wouldn’t care about clothes and style. But on the other hand, this “I don’t care about appearances” attitude can also be strangely sexy in a girl. Especially if she’s funny and a little bit awkward and nerdy, as my new drinking buddy seemed to be.

Eventually she invited me back to her place for another drink.

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New talent alert.

This kid absolutely slays me. Had me laughing out loud several times with his, er, entries.

I can only imagine the accidental nightmares I’d endure if it were as easy to find girls on CL as it is to find guys.


This dirty sex blog now has more followers than my blog about the rest of my life.


Hang the DJ.

I went to an indie club night last week. It’s a long-running and popular event but kind of out of the way for me, and not the kind of thing I can bring myself to attend over and over. In fact I had only gone once before, after a friend touted the great playlist and cheap drinks. So although I didn’t become a regular, this place had the right elements to draw me back.

My first visit was in the winter and I immediately paid the price for being a newbie. At only 10 p.m., a long line of skinny girls and shaggy boys already wound down the sidewalk, waiting to enter in ones and twos whenever allowed. I amended my original plan of “get one drink and see whether it’s cool, and if not go home” to “stay here until last call because I’ve already frozen my indie arse off standing around half the night.” Finally I got in to find the place cool and very crowded and I set about dispelling winter’s chill via $2 PBRs.

Aside from the choice music and cost-effective alcohol, my friend had mentioned a third enticement of these club nights: “good one-night stand opportunities.” I laughed him off at the time. A bar is a bar, right? People do that stuff everywhere. But once I got there I realized he must have been serious; since these club nights are fairly rare I think people get especially geared up for them, dress to impress and go a little bit crazy. The place was boiling over with attractive hipster girls.

Which brings us to my return visit last week, where I proved my friend right.

Um, right?

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This is Marie.

Remember when I said I would never post anyone’s name, photo, etc.? There’s a reason I’m breaking that promise now.

Marie responded to a “casual encounters” post I made on some boring afternoon. I am properly ashamed to admit that my post self-identified me as a HIPSTER but after all it’s the quickest way to attract the attention of any hipster/ish girls who might be reading the ads. This ad is only a few sentences long but, slightly re-worded each time, it has helped me meet and immediately hook up with two different girls in the past (one of those stories is worth telling here sometime, the other probably not).

Marie sent me the above photo and I wrote back (like, duh, she’s obviously cute, particularly for a “casual encounters” respondent) but she didn’t reply to me again until midnight. I was chilling in every sense by that time, reclining by the air conditioner with beer in hand, and I considered not writing back that night. But I did, and as we exchanged brief messages she told me she was “feeling antsy” to go out and convinced me to meet her at a bar roughly between our respective ‘hoods. Why not? She looked quite attractive, she was anxious to meet me, and behind the meeting was the unspoken understanding that sex that night was a possibility.

Once I entered the bar, I quickly realized two things.

1) That girl pictured above is not Marie.

2) There is no Marie.

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