Look. I have pics. I have the juice. I'm a fuckin' rock star

Rock on, Rock Star. Rock on (permalink)...

What I am: An Adams Morgan denizen, a bungee-para-surfer, a wandering minstrel, a supporter of the unsupported, an eater of chicken, a thrower of Frisbees, a possessor of juice, to name a few. I'm a fuckin' rock star.

What I am not: conventional, acceptable to polite society, an eater of liver or any other organ meat, someone who would say things like "I am not someone who must fit into every click known" or "I am not someone who subscribes to majority group think" because I went through THAT phase when I was 22 or 23 or something.

The promise of warm weather is starting to motivate my lazy ass. Help get me out of my apartment. Movie, drinks, dinner, drinks, coffee, drinks, coffee drinks, good conversation, drinks, whatever we could do that could include drinks. This being craigslist, I'm looking for miracles here. Random hook-ups or any of that kind of shit would be OK by me too. I'm a fuckin' rock star after all. Hit me up.

Mr. BH

Best First Date Idea Ever!!! - 36

I think mine sounds like more fun than his (permalink).

It could be a potentially bad idea, but it is worth a shot. I am a SWM, 36, erudite, employed, entertaining, endearing, selectively gentlemanly, blah blah blah.... One half of the reason I decided to post to Craigslist is because I could meet a nice girl, fall in love, get married, have kids, grow old, die, .

The other half of the reason is that I came up with the best first date idea ever and would need to have someone to take on this date. First we agree to meet at this really nice restaurant. I show up late. And drunk. I order for you. I’m rude to the waitress. I’m critical of whatever profession you are in. I mention something about how your butt looks big in whatever you are wearing. Further, I mention something about how I think that the proper role for women is chained to my stove, barefoot and pregnant. Intrigued, you don’t end the date there. From the restaurant we decide to go to a club and dance. We do shots of something. You don’t notice that I’ve slipped a ruffie in your drink, but at this point, it probably doesn’t matter much anyway as I’m probably too drunk to “get it up.” As you start to lose consciousness, I hustle you out of the club and into a cab to my apartment. At this point, I’m passing out, your passed out. We wake up in bed the next morning, both fully clothed, in a puddle of my vomit. You’ll notice that your bra is unhooked though, I’m good at that.

If your are interested let me know. I have never met anyone like this, but it is worth a shot. If you like me, that would be great. If you don't like me, that would be great too.

LET'S PLAY WITH APPLETINIS AND RUFFIES

This guy (permalink) is always posting about getting women drunk. Why would that be?

I am becoming bored with the unfun, conservative, buttoned up women of DC who will not have sex with me on the first date lately so might as well try here. I prefer a woman who would like to play with appletinis, ruffies, maybe my xbox, other stuff (fill in what that other stuff might be) at the right time. This is in addition to worshipping me, eating out, and hot kinky sex like you on top. Late 20s to mid-30s who try to stay fit works best for me. Bring the banter too. I will put the ruffies in your appletini when your preoccupied with my xbox.

I am sitting on the floor in your panties

Or you are sitting on the floor in your panties...

i have this vision in my mind
we are sitting cross legged on the floor
across from each other
i am in your panties
and your bra
you're naked since i’m wearing you undergarments
sharing a bottle of MD 20/20
no glasses
listening to music
lights are out
you’re all, “it’s pretty fucking dark in here”
i’m like, “yea well what do you want me to do about it”
and you’re like, “why not turn on a fuckin’ light Einstein
and i’m like, “shut yer yap”
you able to come to that place

The Scene...

His Scene. My Scene...

The scene....

You enter Angles in Adams Morgan just before midnight.
Through the dim lights, the sound of screaming drunk frat guys and Journey on the jukebox, you walk to an empty wooden stool and sit down...casually glancing to your left, you notice Him, though before seeing Him, you feel Him
.
Your eyes focus in the dim lights, the bar candles flickering, the mellifluous voice of Stephen Perry…”Ain't always what it's supposed to be, Oh girl you stand by me, I'm forever yours...faithfully.” He's at least 6 feet tall, but shorter sitting down, boney girl arms, and from the eyes you see, a man of depth, a man of passion, a man whose probably had one too many Miller Lites. His brown hair adds the perfect accent to the dancing candle light and shimmers on his lime green leisure suit and yellow buffalo shirt.

It’s the eyes…they capture you with their depth. Instantly you know this man is one of power, purpose, raw sexual magnetism, of, dare I say, taste and being accustomed to the finer things in life. A man who probably knows how to do the hustle as well as the white man’s overbite.

Your casual glance leads your eyes to lap. The bunch of fabric at his crotch leads you to believe this is a guy that uses his penis pump every single day.

Your eyes meet, and despite his boney girl arms, you know his eyes are not those of a frail girly man, but one of mental focus, savage intensity, and strength. A man practiced in the finer arts of man on woman sensuality.

Slight smiles are exchanged and your heart skips a beat when you hear him say a simple “wanna do it in the bathroom?” through his eyes.

You know instinctively He is one of those who has power....the power to hire and fire at will, move objects with his mind, the power to snatch the remote from your hands and channel surf, never landing on a single channel, but cycling through all 150 channels over and over and over and over.

His voice flows across the table past you, as he orders a drink from the waitress. A firm voice this man has...definitely one who commands respect...and who knows how to be in charge. You look at him closer….he must be in his late 20s, but perhaps early 30s…not sure.

You know he is not one to simply charge at every woman He sees. To most he is just a friend, to some a confidant, and to a rare few; more.

A waitress places a drink before you. Puzzled you look up at her since you’d not ordered a thing. With a finger she points to Him. And as smile crosses your face you are momentarily distracted as he deftly slips a Rohypnol into your Appletini.



He gets letters:

"Well played!"