Hi, my name is Jeffrey and I’m looking for the love of my life. In my head, she is a mix of Lake Bell, Jenny Slate and the Jewish woman from the Big Freedia music videos. If that’s you, please, continue.
For starters, I stand six foot one inch tall and weigh 220 lbs. I enjoy eating food, playing sports, and writing stories. About once a week I masturbate to videos of women playing with themselves. Normally I do this on Saturday mornings. I play video games about once a week as well, usually I do that on Sunday afternoons.
I have a job, at a steel factory. Though my real vocation, or, at least, the one I tell myself is my real vocation as I tell others that I work at a steel factory, is novelist. And while I don’t receive money to write novels, in about 75 years or so I would hope our grandchildren have a comfortable lifestyle from the royalties of a film based on one of my works. As for you and I, we will be destitute.
Before we get too ahead of ourselves, though, you should know you’re better at math than I am. Because of this, I will be doing things for you to cover up my deep insecurities as a man. So I hope you’re ready to be lavished with affection. Now, if this is already too much, don’t worry, if you don’t reply to my message, I won’t press to the point of lassitude between us, unless you’re my very specific type. In which case, as in you’re particularly freckled, curly haired, or oddly pretty in some way, I will look at your profile intermittently for several weeks and send you two or three more messages, each increasingly pathetic, until I move on to someone else.
What else, well, most short story collections are lost on me. I just find the stories tend to run together. Almost all modern poetry, I can’t stand, certainly any poetry recited in public. There is a good chance I’ll be able to recommend novels you haven’t read. However, this is only useful if you’re looking for that kind of thing.
More? Alright. I’ve been in love many times and while that is not prudent to admit here, I have little self-censorship when meeting a new person. You’ll have to prepare yourself for that on our first and more than likely last date. I’ll be delving into my past, telling you things which will have you questioning your ability to choose men. Also, I’m 32, which means I’m too old for most of you under 25 but this will not stop me from messaging you who is very clearly not looking for anything more than an interlude.
More still? Well, about 10 years ago I wrote for the online music publication Pitchfork. I was a newswriter, but I will not allude to how unimpressive that is compared to being a reviewer at the same website. I write fiction now and have completed two novels. Though if neither is picked up in the next couple years I’ll concentrate on my day job. For you, I will attain the highest level of middle management.
Good news? How about how I maintain my body hair. My back is cleanly waxed. My nose hairs are plucked, as is the area above my nose, between my eyebrows. Beyond my shoulder hair, yes, there are other things to know about me, and, if we meet, I know you’ll find them endearing.
Thanks for reading now and I look forward to falling in love with you as much as I look forward to writing the email asking why it didn’t work out. Talk to you soon!