From The London Review of Books's Personals Section
I'm a very clever chap and often come out with things to say in certain situations. M, 51.
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Professor, still sexy, seeks erudite man: lookingforloveandalltherest@gmail.com
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A big, horrible, mangled mess of words. Not this, the ad below: I'm as eloquent as a fox up a pipe in a pipe. Man, 43.
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I'd be lying if I said I was 6'2", well-built, took good care of my body, have sound finances, a history doctorate, spend part of the year in Hong Kong advising banking institutions on managing fiscal deficits, and my name is Harrison Ford, but I'm going to say it anyway. Dr Harrison Ford (51), 6'2", well-built, Hong Kong, etc., etc.
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Imagine your favourite sandwich. Now double it. Double it again. What do you have - a bunch of delicious sandwiches? Wrong. You have me. M, 47. Like a stack of delicious sandwiches that you just can't stop piling up.
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Sex comes almost naturally to me. Woman, 34.
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Words like these come from my actual mouth during the physical act of love. F, 48.
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By not replying to this ad, you're consigning me to a fate that probably includes marrying a woman who has horse figurines in her bedroom and who keeps whiskey miniatures in a glass cabinet. M, 51.
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My PhD research posed the question 'how many peaches is it safe to eat in one sitting?' I think this advert more than answers that. Failed PhD researcher, lover, and consumer of peaches (F, 35).
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I tore one of my abductor muscles running to the post office to mail this advert, so you'd damn well better be worth it. F, 32.
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I once met a woman through this column who had the cold, lifeless eyes of a shark. If you're not her, write. M, 39.
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I build hovercrafts from the broken parts of Flymo lawnmowers. I also have webbed toes and an exceptional talent at chess. I don't drink and by that I mean at all - I get all the hydration I need from the atmosphere and pouches of Capri Sun. My favourite dinner is Coco Pops and if you even mention the name Steven Buchanan (my nemesis at St Olave's, 1985) I will starve myself for a week or until you apologise - whichever comes first. Unlike the other Carls who appear in this column, I spell my name with a 'K'. If I had a superpower, it would be imperviousness to radiation. I'd use this to enter nuclear power stations and steal energy cells for use in my own private army. I would wear a cape. I recently had surgery to correct an undescended testicle.
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LRB-reading men: I'm not going to let any of you marry my daughter. Rev. Larry 'Shotgun' Nixon.
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All this courtesy of a good friend who has just moved into a flat the previous tenant of which was a subscriber to the LRB, and who gave me two issues that arrived because the previous tenant didn't inform the LRB of his changed address quickly enough. I think I'll actually read the body of the publication tomorrow. But really I think it'll be anticlimactic.
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Professor, still sexy, seeks erudite man: lookingforloveandalltherest@gmail.com
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A big, horrible, mangled mess of words. Not this, the ad below: I'm as eloquent as a fox up a pipe in a pipe. Man, 43.
----
I'd be lying if I said I was 6'2", well-built, took good care of my body, have sound finances, a history doctorate, spend part of the year in Hong Kong advising banking institutions on managing fiscal deficits, and my name is Harrison Ford, but I'm going to say it anyway. Dr Harrison Ford (51), 6'2", well-built, Hong Kong, etc., etc.
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Imagine your favourite sandwich. Now double it. Double it again. What do you have - a bunch of delicious sandwiches? Wrong. You have me. M, 47. Like a stack of delicious sandwiches that you just can't stop piling up.
----
Sex comes almost naturally to me. Woman, 34.
----
Words like these come from my actual mouth during the physical act of love. F, 48.
----
By not replying to this ad, you're consigning me to a fate that probably includes marrying a woman who has horse figurines in her bedroom and who keeps whiskey miniatures in a glass cabinet. M, 51.
----
My PhD research posed the question 'how many peaches is it safe to eat in one sitting?' I think this advert more than answers that. Failed PhD researcher, lover, and consumer of peaches (F, 35).
----
I tore one of my abductor muscles running to the post office to mail this advert, so you'd damn well better be worth it. F, 32.
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I once met a woman through this column who had the cold, lifeless eyes of a shark. If you're not her, write. M, 39.
----
I build hovercrafts from the broken parts of Flymo lawnmowers. I also have webbed toes and an exceptional talent at chess. I don't drink and by that I mean at all - I get all the hydration I need from the atmosphere and pouches of Capri Sun. My favourite dinner is Coco Pops and if you even mention the name Steven Buchanan (my nemesis at St Olave's, 1985) I will starve myself for a week or until you apologise - whichever comes first. Unlike the other Carls who appear in this column, I spell my name with a 'K'. If I had a superpower, it would be imperviousness to radiation. I'd use this to enter nuclear power stations and steal energy cells for use in my own private army. I would wear a cape. I recently had surgery to correct an undescended testicle.
----
LRB-reading men: I'm not going to let any of you marry my daughter. Rev. Larry 'Shotgun' Nixon.
----
All this courtesy of a good friend who has just moved into a flat the previous tenant of which was a subscriber to the LRB, and who gave me two issues that arrived because the previous tenant didn't inform the LRB of his changed address quickly enough. I think I'll actually read the body of the publication tomorrow. But really I think it'll be anticlimactic.