JB told me about an ad on Craigslist that I should read and when I did, it sparked something in me that took days to figure out. I wasn’t sure if I should try to respond but I thought about it far too much.
I won’t copy and paste it because I didn’t write it, but it should be up on Craigs for the next couple days here.
Anyway, I read it and something went – “yes.” And something else in me went. “what a putz! He needs his ass kicked.” While still something else in me thought, “hmmm. Maybe JB was on to something here.”
So I wondered what was calling to me from the ad and decided that it was a combination of confident arrogance, and the thought of someone who actually was looking for a strong woman.
That being said, he still wrote about his ideal woman as though she were more like a pet than a strong partner at times and so I had a slight gag reflex about it. It was an odd combination and I couldn’t make sense of. So I decided to respond in the women for men section with a similar ad but not respond to him directly because I’m not really interested in the full description as he put it. I have similar wants, but not enough to want to be his pet or any other man’s pet – so I took his tone, the battle theme and wrote my own post.
The responses have been fascinating. Mainly because when I posted a semi-cutesy ad a couple months back, sweet and fun and a little soft – I got 180 responses.
The responses from this ad were sparse (about 7 so far) and mostly laced with condemnation. INTERESTING! What a cool experiment! How fabulously fascinating. Really!
Okay, so I wanted the arrogant sound, the strong metaphors and the heavy sense of absolutism from the ad that inspired me, but I also wanted it to be less about being someone’s pet and more about the mythological perfectly matched pair that becomes unstoppable.
Even as I wrote it, I knew it was over the top. Too bold and hardcore. I knew it was rough and not inviting at all to a man who would want a lesser woman – but I guess that’s what interested me about the idea – how many men will truly fess up to wanting a woman who might be better at “manly things”? I wanted to know. Curiosity. Whatever.
The most interesting thing so far though, was a guy named Joseph who wrote me to tell me that what I had written was enjoyable but that it rang a bell he couldn’t put a finger on and therefore I was a plagiarizer. And stated in a soft but undercut way that the men on craigslist were well read – hinting that I couldn’t fool anyone by stealing another person’s work.
My response was not courteous. I shouldn’t have responded at all, but I found myself so irritated by his attempt to be a shit head – that I actually sent a note back – explaining that it was a good challenge (damn good in fact because it got a rise out of me!) and that I’m a writer so I know what’s mine. And finished that I too believe the guys on Craigslist are well read – he must not be one of them.
Now, of all the stupid things – I actually feel bad about my response. What a dumbass, I am. I actually let him torque me. Ugh.
The moral of the story is that I’m stunned by the differences in responses. Now that I’m venturing back into the territory wherein gathering information is so important – I am ridiculously curious if it was just my way of writing it that turned them all off (women? What say you?) or was it the ideas therein that were the off button? (Men? Could it be that the greater majority of guys are really looking for the less brazen and more cutesy?)
I think I’ll also have to ask JB and give him a hug for putting me onto the idea in the first place. He went out of his way to tell me about it and I’m so glad because. I mean, holy crap, what a great way to gauge the water than by posting extremes and watching the fallout.
JB, you rock! I also can’t believe you knew exactly what that quote was – that makes me so happy!
Craigslist will dump the ad in a week so here it is for future reference.
To the Wolf -33
I am not your Froggy, but I am of the pack.
You let out your moon song, bold and beautifully dark – so torn with wanting and laced with need. It resonated, deep.
I burn for the man who unconsciously checks the straps on my saddle as our horses stamp impatiently in the mist before the charge. I know he knows we’re dead already, but the glint in his eye and the silence in our smiles speak more of the last night’s animal instincts, blood drawn in the battle of surrender – than the probability of an agonizing end before the sunrise.
I yearn for the man who knows – without doubt – I can hold my own on the field. Not rushing in, not losing his dance steps to the opponent – but honestly reveling in the path I carve through the horde to get to my destination, as a work of graceful carnage. I want the man who can watch me fall and know I will get up again. He does not try to pick me up – but will cover my back, holding off the enemy until I can regain my feet. I want the man who knows without doubt – my sword would do the same.
The man in my mind would be the one loading the musket, because I’m a much better sharpshooter than he is, and he knows it well enough that his ego steps back to let me take the shot.
I want the man I can fight, who keeps pace with me, who doesn’t want a demure opinion or a standard shell. We would take the world by storm and blaze and burn down what needs to be rebuilt. We would know each other’s bodies like well-read brail. He would know my sex is an instrument – delicately played for music, to be coaxed from me even when I think I can’t sing, and savage to bring forth the animal sounds of ecstasy.
My man is grace and strength of spirit that needs no explanation. He is not molded but sculpted in his unique self, and confident about it. He is brazenly honest because he knows there is no truth but what we claim.
He is my Jocelyn, and I am his Phaedra.
He is my Alpha and Omega – I will only accept my equal in all things.
He is my challenger and my champion.
He is too strong for the weakness of self loathing, too powerful to wish for a death outside the battlefield. He would love me enough to perform the double terminus if he knew it was the only way, with his blade on my throat one last kiss.
We would sharpen our weapons together and talk of simple things. Plot adventures that would lead to places we’ve both wanted to explore. We would fall asleep entwined with separate daggers under each of our pillows.
I do not drink his blood, nor do I cannibalize him, but somehow between the two of us, our separate intensities fuse into unbendable metal with more strength and agility and energy than two individual creatures of distinguishable strength could possess alone.
He will recognize me on first sight. Not because I wear sheep’s clothing or speak softly or flutter my eyelids. He will look at my shape with lust and pride. He will know me past the toenail polish and flowery dresses and see – instantly to the core of my warrior and he’ll smile, across the room because he will recognize himself in my carriage, he’ll see his bloodlust in my feminine smile. He’ll see my height and my breasts and the slight curve of my belly as lush fertility and sexual ripening, and he’ll come to me. We are pair bonded, as wolves do – and until I meet my match… I run with betas.
“Only the man who can beat me in a fair fight, can have me.”
Choose your weapon
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