{"id":5867,"date":"2007-01-06T19:07:07","date_gmt":"2007-01-07T00:07:07","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.sheilaomalley.com\/?p=5867"},"modified":"2024-10-27T18:15:39","modified_gmt":"2024-10-27T22:15:39","slug":"self-deprecating-personal-ads","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.sheilaomalley.com\/?p=5867","title":{"rendered":"Self-Deprecating Personal Ads"},"content":{"rendered":"

Excerpts from the howlingly funny They Call Me Naughty Lola: Personal Ads from the London Review of Books<\/a>\"\"<\/i> – a book of personal ads from the London Review of Books.<\/p>\n

\nBald, short, fat and ugly male, 53, seeks short-sighted woman with tremendous sexual appetite. Box no. 9612<\/p>\n

\nYou’re a brunette, 6′, long legs, 25-30, intelligent, articulate and drop-dead gorgeous. I, on the other hand, am 4’10”, have the looks of Herve Villechaize and carry an odour of wheat. No returns and no refunds at box no. 3321<\/p>\n

\nShy ugly man, fond of extended periods of self-pity, middle-aged, flatulent and overweight, seeks the impossible. Box no. 8623<\/p>\n

\nMenopause made me subscribe to this magazine and I haven’t looked back since (although I also came out this morning with no knickers and my bra on outside my jersey). Hormones a-go-go with flushed woman (54), putting the tins in the fridge at box no. 2534.<\/p>\n

\nHeaven must be missing an angel. If you find her, tell her she bumped my car whilst trying to park her moronic, disco-blaring VW Beetle idiot mobile outside my flat during the early hours of September morning. Insurance details, please, to touchy archivist desperate for a good night’s sleep in N1. Box no. 5897<\/p>\n

\nI once found the perfect match in this column, but it turned out to be an ad I’d written two years earlier that they’d forgotten to publish. Still, you have to admire my consistency. Man, 43. Consistent. Admiring. Admirable. Box no. 4321.<\/p>\n

\nI like my women the way I like my kebab. Found by surprise after a drunken night out and covered in too much tahini. Before long I’ll have discarded you on the pavement of life, but until then you’re the perfect complement to a perfect evening. Man, 32. Rarely produces winning metaphors. Box no. 5632.<\/p>\n

\nRomance is dead. So is my mother. Man, 42, inherited wealth. Box no. 7652.<\/p>\n

\nKnow your thermocouple accuracy table, then love me like the fool you are. Geo-sex daddy of the rhodium-refining world (M, 62) seeks practically anyone. Anyone at all. I mean it. Please. Anyone. Box no. 7809.<\/p>\n

\nNothing in this world makes sense. Apart from Sphenodon punctatus<\/i>, last survivor of the reptilian order Rhynchocephalia. If only there were a woman like it – cold, efficient and brutal in love, but also able to feed off small animals, inhabit the breeding burrows of certain small petrels and be in possession of a vestigial third eye. Zoologist, M (51), possibly a little too close to his work. And his mother. Box no. 8643.<\/p>\n

\nThis is the first time in my life I’ve appeared in any font other than Courier New. That’s because my best work is still in my head, as are my years of financial stability, my buff physique, the respect of my peers, and my ability to trim sea bass. What were you expecting – Saul Bellow? Man, 34. Takes what he can get, as will you. Box no. 1763<\/p>\n

\nSome chances are once in a lifetime. Not this one – I’ve been in the last 12 issues. Either I strike gold this time or I become a lesbian. Man, 43. Box no. 8504<\/p>\n

\nTell me your kidney-stone experiences – I’ll set them to music and we’ll make a West End fortune! Unemployable choreographer and amateur harpist (M, 62) seeks recovering alcoholic with feeble mind. Own tap shoes an advantage. Box no 7353<\/p>\n

\nList your five favourite books. First, let me list mine: The Boy Who Couldn’t Stop Washing: The Experience and Treatment of OCD<\/i>, by Judith L. Rapaport; Brain Lock: Free Yourself From Obsessive Compulsive Behaviour<\/i>, Dr Jeffrey Schwartz; The Doubting Disease: Help For Scrupulosity and Religious Compulsions<\/i>, Joseph W. Ciarrochi; Imp of the Mind: Exploring the Silent Epidemic of Obsessive Bad Thoughts<\/i>, Lee Baer; The River Cafe Cookbook<\/i>, Rose Gray and Ruth Rogers. F, 32. Enjoys cookery, hairclips, light-switches. Box no. 8313<\/p>\n

\nNot all female librarians are gay and called Susan. I, however, am, and would like to meet non-librarian gay women to 35 with names such as Polly, Kate or Demeter. Chichester. Box no. 5208<\/p>\n

\nWhat is your favorite preserved body part? Mine is the diseased bladder of Italian biologist Lazzaro Spallanzani (currently on display in the Scarpa Room in the University of Pavia). This and many more conversation killers available from librarian and failed travel agent. F, 32. Northampton. Box no. 4279<\/p>\n

\nReply to this advert, then together we can face the harsh realities of my second mortgage. M, 38, WLTM woman to 70 with active credit cards. Box no. 8624<\/p>\n

\nIf Mother could see me now. Fortunately her bad hip prevents her coming up the stairs too often. Man, 36, seeks woman to 40 before the stairlift engineers are called out and my love life has to run its course in shopping-centre food courts yet again. Box no. 6407<\/p>\n

\nI am not afraid to say what I feel. At this moment in time I feel anger, giddiness, and the urge to dress like a bear and forage for berries at motorway hedgerows. Man, 38. Box no. 3632<\/p>\n

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