i put the "gay" in sagacious. um, on second thought...

i mean i put the “lube” in salubrious. or maybe I put the “sex” in sexamalicious! in any event, my life is a no-holds-barred mad-cap thrill ride, kind of like “the cannonball run” except without the star power or cars. i’m like a younger, moustache-less Burt Reynolds with the chest hair! i’m not capitalizing because my shift key is broken though everything should be spelled correctly. if you’re normally into good grammar, punctuation, spelling, that sort of thing, then i am your guy. if i'm attracted to you, that probably means you probably have commitment issues. or are thin. or are attractive. i’m working on that. i'm 6'1" (actually i'm just a hair under 6'1”). the women here on cl seem to have an obsession with my penis for some reason. his name is mr. mcgillicutty and sort of looks like darth vader from behind. i have a good job, a car, shoes and i like to play with children to impress single women of child-bearing age. i am looking for whatever.

Corporeal Compatibility Consideration, Cultivating Connections

Riffing on a guy (who deleted his post before I could archive it) while trying something new...illiteration!

I am concerned about considering my corporeal compatibility with a comely coquette I chance upon Craigslist. I am clever, comical, committed, charming, and cute. I covet coming across a comely coquette with consistent characteristics, and I crave our connection to consider carnality continually. If we are corporeally/carnally compatible, we can continue our criminally carnal courtship clear of the commencing “catechization.” Of course, and did I cite my first-class coition capabilities.

So you can be considered for this chance, please:

1. Be a comely coquette
2. Quarter conveniently close (Adams Morgan)
3. Convey a copy of your countenance.
4. Construe your constitutional characteristics if the copy of your countenance isn't complete

Cheers,
Craig

Men Suck...

Hello. My name is XXXX and I am an ass. Hi XXXX! (permalink).

I know this as a fact because I indeed am a man. I am highly educated, independently wealthy, and in superb physical condition. You might call me a sophisticate. I know how to spell big words like salubrious and sebaceous, know what they mean, and can use them in a sentence:

The man considered himself salubrious in spite of the numerous sebaceous cysts growing from his neck.

I expect a lot from a woman I court and I will not tolerate being second or third. I expect this woman to be sufficiently commodious to my wants and needs and to be respectfully worshipful of yours truly. You will know every thought as it crosses my mind because I have no impulse control or boundaries. If you displease me once, you are reprimanded. If you displease me twice, you are history. If you think you are attractive and have a great body and can please me the way a man deserves to be pleased by an attractive woman with a great body then you may respond. Please don't waste my time and yours if you don't have the goods: 1) attractiveness, 2) great body, 3) firm buttocks {see #2}. Pics necessary for response. If you don’t have firm buttocks don't even think about it. I like firm buttocks. Also include in your response language praising me in two different ways. This should be the easy part.

No freaks.

He gets letters:

"good one dude."

" bananahammock strikes again!"

"Men suck...and you are right, they do. They suck toes, pussy, titties, and if you can find they right one they will suck your ass too! Damn, I miss a good man!"

Let my Sensuosity Detonate your Intense Enthusiasm for Something

Many thanks to Kayla and the rest for their input (especially after she stole my last one)... I want to ignite something (permalink) or detonate something and maybe explode something all over your bosoms. Intensely.

Let my sensuosity detonate your intense enthusiasm for something by French kissing your genitals, rubbing your boobs and buttocks, and by bearing witness to my erotically charged sexiness. I am a semi-professional extreme off-road bungee skier who would like to bring extreme contentment to extremely good looking women in their 20s or 30s who are lacking an intense enthusiasm for something and extreme arousal in their pitiful lives. I want this to be a highly discrete relationship. My photo is attached.

Oh, don't tell me I'm not loquacious

I smert. I know big werds (permalink).

Would I be here consigning this missive replete with ostentatiously baroque verbiage if it were otherwise?

Alas, if I weren't, I'd take my sagacity and salacity, my Atticism and waggery and generalised savoriness and quit posthaste to a Bedouin encampment in the arid climes of the Middle East, the air redolent with the aroma of incense and dromedary with the lonesome plaint of the call to prayers not far.

Instead, I find myself here, in Adams Morgan, Washington, DC, United States of America, with an impish visage and a demeanor fraught with puerile lampooning.

And here, as you cogitate on my impious calumny, which began elsewhere and returns evermore.

I could go on.

And I will at a later time.

To my silent fan you cannot see my apple in your eye

WTF? Could it get any worse. Probably...

Stubborn but open minded, endeavors rest upon the possibilities nature displays before us, a palimpsest of skin, muscle and bone. This time, though, the princess has golden locks flowing from castle high, waiting for his prince to climb the luxurious tresses, like swimming through a sea of stringy vanilla pudding. She can’t work backward, she with that look. The horny look a woman has when she hasn’t had sex in a while.

There's another door to which she can run, free of delay and inhibition, a place where she could allow herself to be as easy as Madlibs for she has carved the framework herself. Her artistic temperament was exquisitely refined, like someone who can tell butter from Parkay soft margarine spread. Every scratch, every doodle, every mark she's still yet to pays homage to her passions much like a groupie at a Nickelback concert.

This is what some call a "first-class transition." Sure, I'm laced with metaphors and similes and the night is young in the most figurative of ways, but the story is simple, like my sister. But unlike sister, this plan just might work. You know, that touching or breathing that starts and stops and starts again just because you want it to, or continues to move back and forth and back and forth, much like an oscillating fan, can engender the greatest of excitements both high and low. Yeah, I'm filled with subliminal meanings and want you to dissect everything I scrawl until you have a difference between the beer and the can that holds the beer, but take it as you will; I always say what I mean....and what i mean is i want to free you from your guilt and pain. and good writing.

He gets letters (from the clearly insane):

"delightful ad. are you familar with pablo neruda? such fun with words! I love to be amused."