How You Doin’ Blondie?

There’s a scandal brewing in my neighborhood, instigated chiefly by a single post in the “missed connections” section of Craigslist. The original post reads as follows:

We’ve both caught each other checking each other out so the question is…where do we go from here?

Even though we’re neighbors I don’t know anything about you, other then the fact that you look really, really yummy without a shirt on. I don’t know if you’re married or involved, I think there’s a woman that lives with you, but I don’t know what your relationship with her is…but that’s not really important. What is important is this: I want to fuck you. Well actually, I want you to fuck me, nice and hard, from behind. The tricky part is figuring out how to bridge that awkward gap between “admiring each other from afar” and “you drilling my brains out.”

Ordinarily, I would just casually walk over one day and ask to “borrow a cup of sugar”, but the problem with that seems to be the fact that with my luck, your wife/girlfriend would answer the door. And I’m not interested in fucking her.

So where do we go from here? I think the first step is a clear signal from your direction…find a reason to talk to me, any reason – and find a way to work in the topic of sugar. I don’t care what context you use, just be sure at some point you mention “sugar.”

If you’re willing to do that, I promise it’ll be worth it – I want to fuck so hard I won’t be able to walk right ;-).

The backlash from this post has been absolutely amazing, probably because although we are geographically located within 5 minutes of Philadelphia, we are still a very, very small town. But the best part of all this hasn’t been the shock and horror all my fellow resident’s have reacted with, but with the new kinds of stares and glances I’m now recieving. I’m the newest addition to this little ass-backwards town, ipso facto, I’m also the most mysterious (wiggle your fingers and say “Oooooo”, here”). I don’t socialize with the locals, not as a general rule, but because no one has really made an effort to get to know me. So no one knows much about me other then I live alone in a big old house on the corner of the street, and you could set your watch by my dog-walking schedule.

I imagine that’s what happening is one by one, each gossipy little housewife is reading this post and talking about amongst themsevles and they’re saying, “It’s that blonde little whore on the corner.” I base this assumption on several factors: 1.) I’ve read the responding posts, there are little clues these women leave that indicate they think it’s me and 2.) There’s been a decided shift in the neighborhood dynamics, from the women and the men, it’s very tangible.

I’m not mad, per se…I’m more amused. Their judgement was amazingly swift and final. Like a capital murder trial in Texas. Done. Finito.

I guess if an angry mob shows up at my door, I’ll know that’s my cue to ride off into the sunset.