Meeting a potential bed-mate on Craigslist may not sound sexy to most people, but to me, it’s the perfect place to find just the kind of guy I’m looking for. A stud, a guy who thinks so highly of his bedroom antics, he actually advertises. It’s so much fun to read his bio: a few sentences about himself meant to attract a girl like me. I like reading how they are D/D free (drugs and disease) and non-smoker, seeing that they’re under 30, and that they are horny mutherfuckers who want it bad and want it now.
Some guys looking for a NSA (no strings attached) hook-up post pictures of their penises. Yes, their penises. As if any woman really gives a flying fuck how big it is. Come on, do guys really think that we’d choose a guy solely over penis size? Hmmm, line ‘em all up, one next to the other, cover their faces and I’ll pick the biggest one? Seriously? It just cracks me up. Cuz I’m just the girl they’re looking for, and they’re scaring me away showing me their penises.
It’s cuz guys are visual creatures. They aren’t too far from their Neanderthal ancestors. All they have to do is see a pair of nipples and they’re ready to go. It doesn’t even take actual nudity for my husband to get an erection, and I’d say he’s like most guys. Last week we were sitting in a dark, sensual bar having apple martinis and chicken satay, overlooking a busy intersection. From our 2nd story window perch, a Victoria’s Secret sat directly across. Several times he had to stop himself in mid-talk to comment on how the torso-only mannequin wearing nothing but a red, lacy thong kept distracting him. Jeez.
The guy that I’ll choose to reply to won’t be the one who’s member I’ve already seen. It will be the guy who posts a face picture of himself, or more likely, a body photo with the face blacked out. I understand that privacy and discreetness is an absolute must, and I never show my face. That’s all I need is for my teenage son to come home from school and say, “Mom, my friend Carlos said he saw a picture of you on Craigslist looking for a boy-toy. Is that true?” I shudder to think it could happen, if I’m not careful.
Placing an ad for a sexual partner is so so much fun. I highly recommend it for any woman, whether or not you are actually looking for a cheap one-night stand. Just post a sexy picture of yourself, and post an ad saying you are a lonely, passionate woman looking for someone to frolic with for one night. Let me tell you, it will do wonders for your self-esteem. The first time I placed an ad, I had over 200+ replies from horny men that very first day! I had so much fun reading their replies, which varied tremendously. “Pick me, I’ll send you to heaven”. “My dick is 7-1/2 inches long and I can fuck you all night”. “How big are your boobs? I can only get hard if you’re a DD”. I remember sitting in a cheesy diner eating greasy french fries, stuffing them into my mouth while I clicked one response after another on my laptop keyboard. Some sent yet more pictures of their penises, as if the first one wasn’t good enough to get me to write them back. I’d emphasize in my ad, “Face pics only”, but it’s amazing how many guys can’t read. Seeing how many horny, available men wanted me sexually gave me a bigger smile than fitting into a size 3 pair of skinny jeans (which I wear).
I had so many responses it was virtually impossible to keep them all straight. Out of the 200+, I’d say maybe 10 were candidates for keepers. I deleted the unwanteds immediately so I could keep better track of them. I was able to narrow it down to the oooo you seem delicious vs. the absolutely-not-if-you-were-the-last-guy-on-earth-would-I-fuck-yous.
Guys always, always want stats. It must be a guy thing. It’s not enough to watch a football game, guys have to know exactly how many yards the field goal kick was (who gives a fuck? He got the 3 points, didn’t he?) and what the total rushing yards were. So you have to tell them. Age, height, weight, cup size. And it doesn’t do any good to lie, or even fudge it a little, cuz we’re talking this is someone I plan on getting naked with. There’s really little chance of me looking like Giselle Bundchen by the end of the week. One thing I’ve learned from my Craigslist exploration, is that there’s truly someone for everyone, or should I say, a turn-on for everyone. Big, short, little, fat, skinny, blonde hair, brown hair, purple hair, tattoos, piercings (or not), married, cheating, swinging or lonely, there is someone out there that will be attracted to you just the way you are. I’d say it’s good practice for most women. Stop trying to be what you think a guy wants and start being who you really are.
So, I tell the truth. I’m married. Yes, my husband knows I’m writing you. I’m short, a bit curvy, and I’m not 20 anymore. I am in great physical shape, I'm a runner and have very little body fat. I take care of my looks, but I've never had lipo or botox or any plastic surgery. I look half my age. No, I’m not into anal, thank you, and I won’t be bringing my best girlfriend with me for a threesome. I am somebody’s mother, somebody’s wife, somebody’s daughter, and I’m not looking for Mr. Goodbar, and I don’t want to end up like her. I have to feel safe with you and know I will have a good time and still make it to pick up my children from school on time instead of the morgue.
From those top ten or so hot guys that are clamoring for me and more pics of me, I respond in kind. First an e-mail to let them know that I am interested in them, then wait for a 2nd response from them. Usually it arrives before I’ve even sent an email to my 2nd choice. These guys must sit at home on their computers all day long looking for sex, and when their fishing pole gets a bite, they tug and tug and try not to let it get away. I love being the fish.
The guys that actually send me a face pic are the ones that I’ll eventually choose from. One guy had a totally hot Abercrombie model body, I got wet just looking at it. But his face pic was not to my liking. Sorry, dude, but I just wasn’t feeling it. I can see why he spent so much time at the gym. God didn’t grace him in the looks department but that didn’t mean he was a slouch. I’m sure if he’d posted a penis pic first it wouldn’t have helped his case.
The bigger the city you’re looking in, the more guys will be looking for you to have sex with, it’s that simple. WHICH MEANS--the more hot guys there are to choose from! My favorite city so far has been the LA Craigslist. OH MY GOD. Especially near the big colleges. OOO la la. Where I live, the pickings are slimmer, but it’s like shopping at the mall. Some stores you go in, some you just walk by, and some drag you in even though you swore you weren’t going to go in there, but always glad you did.
After the email, and after the face pic is sent and I’ve decided this is a cute guy I could actually get involved with, I send a picture of myself, face and all. I have a few sexy pics of myself tucked away for just this reason, pics my hubby has taken in our more fun and intimate nights. (He enjoys sharing them and sharing me, but more on that another time).
Of all the responses I’ve sent, I’ve only had one nasty retort from some guy whose ego I obviously bruised. He called me a grandma and that my boobs were saggy and other mean things that were hard to stomach. I pouted for a few days, then my hubby encouraged me to keep on my search and I’d feel better. He was right.
The last guy I actually arranged to meet, and did, was a sexy young pilot ( 29) who was going to be in town for a quick turnaround and was looking for some action in between flights. I was responding to HIS ad this time, not the other way around. He posted a body pic, and had nice muscles but not too many (I hate bodybuilders). I thought to myself, hmmm, a pilot? I’ve never had a pilot! And I had had LOTS of fantasies about pilots! I love the uniform. I love the hat. I love the thought of them in control of those enormous jets, and being smart enough to understand all those little buttons, switches, and knobs. Smart, and sexy. Hmmm. Yes, he moved up to number one status. He sent back a couple of face pics, and honestly I wasn’t impressed. Not my type. Blonde and not bad-boyish enough looking. Not pretty enough, no tattoos, no pierced lip, hair too short. He didn’t give up though.
We exchanged yahoo messenger addresses and agreed to chat later that night, after the kids went to bed. And that is where he hooked me in.
I had actually been IM’ing another prospect at the same time I was chatting with Sean, the pilot. He was younger than Sean, 24, and all he wanted to do was talk about the sex we were going to have. He was blunt and obnoxious and I started to feel offended. And believe me, it takes a LOT to offend me. I noticed I wasn’t writing him back as quickly as I was writing Sean back. Sean made me laugh. He was self-deprecating, which was ironic considering that ad he’d placed on Craigslist looking for a whore-of-the-moment. While Jake was telling me how he was going to lick my anus (LOL, NOT!) Sean was telling me how beautiful I looked in my pic, and how he was going to start by kissing me on the neck. Now, who do you think got the date with me??
So, I did something I don’t normally do, and didn’t discount him based on looks. Yes, he had a nice body, but usually when you’re having sex with someone, their face is there too LOL I just wasn’t feeling the attraction physically but thought, what the hell. Let’s see where this goes.
I gave him my cell phone number, and he texted me. We didn’t really talk about sex so much as our schedules. HIs flight schedule, when he’d land, when he’d be back in my area, and whether or not we had the same intentions. We didn’t talk about our families, our favorite foods or our likes and dislikes in movies. We got to the point and stopped texting. It wasn’t romantic, we weren’t falling in love, we weren’t getting to know each other. We were merely trying to see if mating was in our forecast.
And I still wasn’t sure the night before we were supposed to get together. He sensed it, and decided to call me. He had a nice voice, and had the same self-deprecating way about him that I had to admit attracted me. He was honest; straight-forward and blunt about whether or not he wanted to meet me. I was nervous, and it was refreshing to be able to say so. I appreciated someone who wasn’t playing head games on me. We agreed to meet in the lobby of the hotel where was staying, and if after 10 minutes we’d either go up to his room or I’d leave.
I drove to the wrong hotel at first, had to call him and ask him for directions. I was only a few blocks away. I drove to his hotel, and wouldn’t you know, another fucking Holiday Inn Express! (What is it about that fucking hotel and me anyway?????) I parked right in front, which afterwards I thought wasn’t probably a great idea since my car is so recognizable. How would I explain why I was there?? I decided that if anyone asked, I’d turn the question on them. What were YOU doing here?
I put on some fresh lipstick, checked the mirror, and breathed to myself, “here we go”. I thought I dressed cute, leggings, my Uggs, and a cute short skirt. I walked into the lobby, looked around sheepishly, wondering for just a moment what the hell was I doing?? Where did I get my cajones? I didn’t see anyone that resembled the guy in the pic, and felt stares of astonishment on the few faces I encountered. Guess that says more about me....astonished I was here. I saw a small sitting area with a smallish big-screen TV with the news on. I decided to sit down and collect myself.
He texted me, “are you here?” and I wrote back, “yes, in the lobby”, then, “watching the news”. He texted me, “anything interesting?” and while I was texting back an answer, there he was. I had been staring at my phone and didn’t see him enter the room. I looked up, and he looked just like his picture. Pale blue sweater-shirt, expensive-looking jeans, a sexy belt and a nice, warm smile. I still didn’t feel any attraction. We exchanged pleasantries and sat down. It was awkward, and I said so. I liked being able to say so. We had agreed on 10 minutes. We weren’t going to waste each other’s time.
As we sat there, I found myself looking at his crotch and imagining his cock beneath that zipper. I realized my groin was tingling and my breathing was quicker. I wondered if he liked me. I wondered how I was going to feel about myself later, but decided to think about that later. I don’t remember a single thing we said to one another those awkward ten minutes, but I felt safe. He made me laugh. I’d made up my mind.
Abruptly, I said, shocking myself, “Hmm, well, it’s 11, I have to be at the airport myself at 11:30. We’d better get going if we’re going to have any time together.” He smiled and said, “Ok then!” and we both got up and walked to the elevator, and got in. I was nervous, and I said so, giggling. He giggled back, and grabbed my hand as the elevator bell "dinged" and the doors opened. We stepped out, hand-in-hand, and he led me down the hall to his room. A maid passed by us and nodded pleasantly and we both meekly said "hi", then snickered at the thought she might think we were a married couple. Hardly. We were about to become fuck-buddies, and we'd just met ten minutes ago.
The door slowly shut, and he bounced onto the bed and laid on his back, hands behind his head. "Come here!" he commanded with a smile and a laugh, and I smiled at him, kicking off my Uggs. I was undressing him with my eyes as I undressed myself.
I couldn't wait to get him out of those jeans.