Showing posts with label personals. Show all posts
Showing posts with label personals. Show all posts

Thursday, February 11, 2010

Bookish Personal Ads

The London Review of Books has perhaps the most witty and unusual personal ads.
For example:

Tall, handsome, well-built, articulate, intelligent, sensitive,
yet often grossly inaccurate man, 21. Cynics (and some
cheap Brentwood psychiatrists) may say ‘pathological
liar’, but I like to use ‘creative with reality’. Join me in my
36-bedroomed mansion on my Gloucestershire estate, set
in 400 acres of wild-stag populated woodland. East Ham.12
Box no. 0620.


Looking for a partner, I’m placing an ad in this column. Things are significantly worse than I originally thought. Though clearly not as bad as they are for you, F to 40, who is reading this and thinking of replying. M, 34.
box no: 0101




Write and enjoy a date with me at the delicious Cedar’s Lodge Inn, Barnstaple. I have a ‘two-eat-for-the-price-of-one’ voucher that’s good through April. M, 46.
box no: 03/03




Meet the new face of indoor bowling! More or less the
same as the old face, but less facial hair and better teeth. M,
28. Box no. 3377.


I cannot guarantee you’ll fall in love with me, but I can
promise you the best home-brewed beetroot wine you’ll
have ever tasted. Now if that doesn’t sound like a fermented
bucket of yummy siphoned lustiness I just don’t
know what does. Man, 41. Stupid like wow! Box no. 9851.


Drooling, toothless sociopath (M, 57) seeks F any age to
help make this abandoned gas station kiosk feel more like
home. Must bring shoes (size 10). Box no. 5310.


A bigger list can be found here.
These are from David Rose's book: "Sexually, I'm More of a Switzerland: More Personal Ads from the London Review of Books".

In comparison, the New York equivalent personals site is dry and like reading a resume. (see Salon.com)