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A somewhat shocked friend writes, "I did not realise it is considered de rigeur to send a cock shot with the first email."

Welcome to the world of personal ads. How deep down the rabbit hole have you gone?

(, Thu 13 Sep 2007, 15:01)
Pages: Latest, 28, 27, 26, 25, 24, ... 1

This question is now closed.

Match.com
I wanted to use the Kasey Chambers song title (yes, I know!) "If I were you, I would notice me" as my headline.

It cut me off, so hotties all over the area were seeing:

"If I were you, I would not"

Strangely, I didn't get any responses...
(, Thu 13 Sep 2007, 20:44, Reply)
Well, since others are posting their success stories...
Okay, I've done more than my share of internet dating. I met a couple of women through Usenet, and then Hot or Not appeared and I met a LOT of women through that site, then match.com arrived and I met even more through there. (I would guess that the number I met in person was around 60 or so through those two sites, with about 20 of them leading to more than just a cup of coffee.) Through match.com I met the Travel Agent, who was almost The Right One- if I hadn't had kids, I suspect it would have worked out quite nicely, but such was not to be the case.

After she moved out I went through match.com again, where I met the ex stripper who dumped me because I was too nice (she kept waiting for me to reveal something terrible, and when I instead demonstrated a talent for cooking, the ability to give a good massage and the ability to get along well with her kids she freaked), the Postal Worker who wanted to organize my house and my life and move right in, and the Mad Stripper who got drunk on our first date and told me all about how turned on she got when another girl gave her a lap dance and had me feel her fake boobs within an hour of meeting for the first time.

Needless to say, I ran screaming and belming from this experience. I shut off my profile and huddled in my house, shivering. I had concluded that being single forever was no bad thing, and vowed not to date again.

A couple of months later my kids were spending most of their free hours on Myspace, so I thought I had better get on there myself to monitor them. I really knew nothing of Myspace, so I just set up a simple profile, posted a few pictures of myself and started looking for my kids' profiles to see what they were doing. For my default pic I used the one that's in my profile here, with the cat on my shoulders- nothing too unusual or exciting, really.

Well, within the first day I started to get messages from people who wanted to chat, so I replied to the messages with polite interest- it's always nice to have someone new to chat with, after all. One woman in particular seemed quite nice- she lived about an hour north of me, sang in a band in her spare time, painted when she wasn't singing, and worked in an electric utility in the engineering department. We chatted about quite a bit, so I ultimately gave her my cell phone number and we chatted by phone one night. She had a pleasant voice and was fun to talk to, so I suggested meeting up for a beer downtown, as that was about halfway for both of us. She agreed, and we met the next night.

Bear in mind that I really didn't have any expectations regarding her at all- she didn't have pictures of herself posted at that point, and frankly I didn't care what she looked like as I was approaching this as a platonic get-together-and-laugh meeting. So when a tall, slender woman with very short grey hair and glasses appeared, I was very happy to meet her and we had a great evening together. I left that night glad to have made a new friend.

The next day she invited me to a party at a friend's house. Unfortunately it conflicted with my kids' schedule (they were supposed to visit me that night), so I had to regretfully decline. But then my ex called and wanted to change the schedule to another night, so I was suddenly free- so I called my new friend and told her I'd love to go with her.

It was a house party full of people from about 40 to 60 years old, mostly old hippies and rather odd types- in other words, just the right crowd for me. I met a lot of very nice folk that night, played pool very badly (just like everyone else), and got mildly drunk. My new friend and I ended up sitting together on a couch in the living room in front of a fire, trying to sober up a bit before we drove home- and then she kissed me.

I woke up next to her the following morning in an unfamiliar bed, with a vague memory of having driven to her house through the night.

We had coffee and I drove home with my skull echoing with a constant repetition of "ohmygodwhatthefuckdidIjustdoohmygodIsworeIwouldntdothisanymoreohmygodwhatthefuckdidIjustdo". I was completely freaked out, but at the same time... well, we liked each other's company, she was nice and sane, she had told me that she was on her second divorce and not looking to remarry, ever, and we did very well together in bed. So by the time I got home I had resolved to just go with the flow and see where it led, and just enjoy it while I could.

That was over a year and a half ago. She's been living with me for a year now, and it doesn't seem that that's going to end anytime soon. We still enjoy hanging out together as friends, we still have a lot of fun together, and we're better than ever in bed. We both love to cook, we both give a great massage, and we like each others' kids. Overall I'd say we're very goddam lucky.

How far down the rabbit hole did we go? All the way to the other side. And neither of us wants to go back.

EDIT: Thank you all for your wonderful messages. Although many here would probably never admit it, you're really a very lovely and supportive bunch. I just wish I could meet up with you for a pint...
(, Fri 14 Sep 2007, 14:03, Reply)
my ex replaced me
with someone from World of Warcraft....

I'm not sure how that works but its shocked the hell outta me

And so my friends have suggested i take out a personal ad- so far I have

6'2" failed teacher looking for relationship with woman who is attactive, sane and able to deal with someone highly depressed. Am a complete wargaming geek who has had to move back home to his parents. Would prefer if the brave lady could drive as I cannot.


Click I like this if you want me to actually post that on multiple dating sites :)
(, Thu 13 Sep 2007, 19:28, Reply)
Unfortunately not me, but a friend......
answered an ad in a contact mag, for a mother and daughter that were up for a thresome.

A time and date were set, and at said time he showed up at their house.

They let him in, and he took a seat on the sofa. Just as he was wondering how things would proceed, the daughter whipped of the mothers jeans, and started giving her head.

My mate was somewhat shocked and surprised to say the least, but rude not to, so he got his cock out, hada bit of a wank, then gave them both a good seing to.

The funny bit is, as he was leaving, he gave them a stern look, and uttered the immortal line " You two disgust me", before running of into the night.
(, Thu 13 Sep 2007, 15:27, Reply)
long walks on the beach SOD YOUR CUNTING LONG WALKS
what is it about long walks anyway? Who likes long fucking walks? it's just a polite way of saying "i don't like music, film, art, reading, conversation, gourmet food or fine wine." Who likes WALKING? It's like saying your favourite drink is water. Cunts.
(, Thu 13 Sep 2007, 17:44, Reply)
Fom a fat chick......
Well, thanks guys - you have just ruined my morning. I was unaware until now that as a bubbly/cuddly/curvacious etc lady I am apparently considered a pariah on b3ta. I can obviously never use personal ads or internet dating nor even leave the house without wearing a full hijab for fear of affending you poor delicate souls :(
Anyhow, I'm guessing you guys are not always telling the whole truth.......
Good looking (in a dark room, or in your head)
Average looking (bag of spanners)
Big car (small cock)
Own hair (nostrils, ears)
Fancy free (lives with parents)
Looking for fun (married)
Need I continue?
(, Fri 14 Sep 2007, 9:02, Reply)
Not the girl of my dreams
In the aftermath of a relationship that didn't work out, I was, somewhat lonely in the preceding weeks. I thought I'd counter these feelings of emptiness by meeting the girl of my dreams sooner rather than later, and by using the interwebs to do so!

So, I strike up a half-arsed ad, find a picture of me not belming or generally looking like a mong, upload the bitch, and await the storms of beautiful maidens to come hammering at my inbox.

Nay, dear reader, no such luck was to be had. By the time this dawned on me several days later I had rediscovered pr0n in a new way anyway and was back to the self depravity & debauchery rarely seen in civilised societies, so was not too bothered anyway.

But hark! An email arrives!

Yes! Dear reader, my princess had finally come through in the end! Her name was Emma, lets call her, and in the photos she sent though she looked like a stunner! Blonde hair, slim, nice eyes....in my imagination she was surely the one! We agree to meet in a pub near her town.

On the bus, in my head, i had already planned everything – how I was going to ask her out, how we’d spend countless good times together, even how I’d propose in a few years time.

On arrival, a “girl” in a “red-dress” approaches bearing a resemblance to the figure of beauty i was awaiting. Oh fuck, it was her. Oh fuck! She was hideous.....to say she’d put on a few pounds since the photos were taking would be polite, and her face looked like it had been hit with a shovel. I was considering to offer to “re-spade” her face, in an attempt at improving it maybe.

Ah, but it doesn’t stop there either. No. Obviously, I’m not up for making this the large night i was planning, so I let her do the talking and I just pretend I’m tired ready for the “make excuses and leave” operation.

So she tells me all sorts....to cut it short, it was about how she, er, likes getting “utterly faking wankered” and pulling black men, but, oh yeah, she actually “hates blacks” really (!!!), it’s just that “they’ve got really big cocks innit?!”. Nothing about favourite music, not even about job/hobbies....straight to “black cock”!

Another revelation was that she liked black cock so much that one day she got pregnant from one – “dunno who the cunt was though do I?”. Said child of said “cunt” was 6 years old at the time of meeting.

The situation is bordering on so awful that I’m starting to not-so-silently guffaw to myself, producing some strange looks from my “date” who is taking this very seriously.

And here comes the killer, o B3ta. After about the time it takes to drink 2/3rds of a Guinness, she launches the final a-bomb onto an unsuspecting me. She said, and I quote, “I really fakin like you, and I reckon you’d make a wicked dad!”

Nearly choking on my Guinness I spluttered “just going a piss” and promptly bee-lined for the fire exit. I couldn’t wank for a week.

Length? Like an arm, apparently.
(, Thu 13 Sep 2007, 22:05, Reply)
Personals
I've dabbled in the realms of internet dating in the past, because I figured that I could weed out the interesting lasses from the fuckwits without investing in copious amounts of vodkas and coke, although I learned a few lessons. Words to watch are:

Ambitious = will bore you to tears about their career and who's toes they've stamped on along the way to get there
Outgoing = Promiscuous
Spirited = will get into a fight en route to date (yes, I've seen it happen).
Australian = all of the above
Likes keeping fit = Has been to the gym once in five years
Kind hearted = Recently dumped and on the rebound
Bit mad = Quite boring
Enjoys a drink = Wants you to fund an evening of piss artistry
Loves animals = Desperately wants kids, but has cats instead
Loves kids = Has four, wants someone - anyone - to pick up the tab
Has photo of Peugeot 206/Mini on profile = desperately boring. Avoid at all costs
Where have all the nice men gone? = All the men in the locality are wise to me and give me awide berth
Enjoys good wine = Enjoys Lambrini, by the bucketload
Likes to travel = went to Ibiza once
Loves films = Loves chickflicks about someone's new pair of shoes which ramble on for hours and star Hugh Grant
Loves books = as above but in paperback
Caring = Potential stalker
Bubbly = Will get on your tits
Pic shows closeup of bodypart = If all they've got going for them is a fuzzy image of tit or arse, would YOU want to get to know them?
Nursing professional = Will drink you under the table and indulge in frightening levels of debuchery
Ladylike = carries brick in her handbag
Lives in Canvey Island = smells

Before you're put off using t'internet in search of meaningful conversation, I should say that I've met one or two ladies who are actually very nice and who have become friends of mine.
(, Thu 13 Sep 2007, 16:02, Reply)
Oops.
I had a friend who threw up a personal:

"Single 25 y/o Male, athletic, enjoys eating out, pet lover, seeks woman, sense of humor required."

They printed it as:

"Single 25 y/o male, athletic, enjoys eating out pet, lover, seeks woman, sense of humor required."

He didn't get any calls, but he did get a refund.
(, Fri 14 Sep 2007, 2:18, Reply)
Peter Andre helped me fire my beans
I went through a phase of submitting personal ads in the early nineties but due to a number of mental issues I had, for some inexplicable reason I imposed the rule on myself that I must only use lyrics from the song Mysterious Girl by Peter Andre.

My first advert went as follows: "Woah oh oh oh oh oh oh." Did I get a reply? Did I snot.

I pondered the various reasons for the snub and came up with the answer - my ad was effectively meaningless so I had another crack at it. The second ad read "I stop and stare at you, walking on the shore. I try to concentrate, but my mind wants to explore."

This was more successful. "Brilliant" I thought, but to my dismay, the dirty trollop I had lured actually WAS Peter Andre. He turned up round my gaff, all greased up like a sweaty kebab seller. "Hiya mate, hows about a bit of a cuddle" He propositions me, seductively rubbing his 5-pack.

"No thanks, Andre I'm after a bird thanks. And anyway, didn't you used to have a 6-pack? What happened to the other erm ...pack?"

"I sold it mate" came the reply. "Rhino from Gladiators got confused and attacked his own stomach and then he offered to buy mine for £20 and a shitload of Um Bongo so I jumped at the chance."

"Bye". I said closing the door and set about composing a more deliberate 3rd advert.

"The Tropical Scent of you, takes me up above. Girl when I look at you, oh I fall in love!"

I sat by my phone and waited for the inevitable response. It took 5 minutes. It was only Andi F*cking Peters. He said I'd charmed him with my beautifully constructed verse and wanted me to bum the shit out of him. I was bored by this point and decided I might as well bum the little twat.

Then I watched Allo' Allo'!

Good 'Moaning'
(, Sat 15 Sep 2007, 15:37, Reply)
My friend K
I cannot reveal her name here, for she's a lurker here and would probably kill me. K is somewhat outrageous and has long been into the whole online dating thing with some predictable mirthsome results:

Just before xmas K and I went out on the piss big style and I ended up sleeping on her floor, my head supported by two small cushions. Stirring in my post alcohol sleep I was woken with a cup of coffee and the chilling sentence "I hope you found my wank-cushions comfy!". Turns out that K had spent the previous day on all fours knees on cushions and arse facing her webcam with Rabbit in situ for the private enjoyment of some chap from Myspace. I've never lifted my head from a cushion so fast in all my life.

Next up was perhaps K's finest moment. She found a popular, free dating site online and called me one evening to tell me she was giving it a try. Two days later I'm enjoying a beer with her in our local pub when K pipes up at full volume "Oh yes, within eleven hours of registering I was getting full anal by this bloke I met on there! I wonder if they'll use THAT in their advertising blurb?" at a volume that could be heard all the way across the pub...

Cheers to my good friend K, never one to let modesty and subtlety get in the way of a good pub story.
(, Fri 14 Sep 2007, 16:36, Reply)
TV Text dating
You all know those dating channels on Sky? The ones where you text in with messages, like a ridiculously expensive chatroom?

Well, a few friends and I, late one night, decided to try to get some of history's greatest bastards a date. Unfortunately all the messages are monitored/filtered, so Adolf Hitler was shot down in flames before his pining for love could be requited.

However, we struck great interest in the following ad: "Mature, refined gentleman, doctor, seeks older woman to look after for the rest of her days. Harry."

We were inundated with three whole responses wanting more information from Harry, including "what are you a doctor of?"

"Elderly care" was our response.

In case you're wondering, it is entirely possible to be banned from a text dating channel.
(, Thu 13 Sep 2007, 15:50, Reply)
The horror. The horror.
Where to start? Dipped a toe into the murky world of interweb jigginess after divorce number two. Oh yes, I'm a catch me.

Actually, "dipped a toe" is an understatement. Jumped in with both feet is more accurate. I have a few cardinal rules that I now follow having learned the hard way. Just got time to post one now, but will return with more:

Cardinal Rule #1. Never, EVER, agree to see somebody on the strength of a closely cropped face shot. The picture is cropped for a reason.

The lady in question expressed a particular desire to be serviced up the bum rigorously and frequently. I am male, so did my thinking with my cock and decided to break cardinal rule #1. Idiot.

We chat, we arrange to meet, I drive 120 miles to a pub, all in the space of less than 24 hours. I arrive, get a drink, sit by the window and wait. A car pulls up and a mountain of female flesh gets out. She's so big she can't walk properly, just waddle. Jeebus, I think, look at that! Glad it's not her! It is.

A quick scan turns up just one nearby exit and she's coming through it. Fucksocks. I put on a brave face to hide the crushing disappointment. I buy her a drink. Then lunch. We chat and she's really sweet, but still soooo huge. Then again, I *have* driven 120 miles and she *does* want bum sex. So we go back to hers and I perform rigorously as requested.

Time to leave and ridden with self-loathing, I start to get dressed. She looks at me through heavily-lidded eyes and says "You know, I think you could be THE ONE!"

I didn't stick around long enough to find out if she was:

a) Being sarcastic
b) Using that line because she wanted to see the back of me ASAP and figured (correctly) that it would work, or
c) So needy that a pounding up the clacker from an almost total stranger qualified as a courtship

I'm getting too old for this bollocks.
(, Thu 13 Sep 2007, 18:35, Reply)
I read the "women seeking women" personals in the local rag for cheap thrills.
What?
(, Thu 13 Sep 2007, 15:50, Reply)
Never mind the fat chicks
Broadly speaking, there are six types of men on internet dating sites:

The Guilt Trip
I'm an ugly bastard. If you don't message me back, that means you're shallow. In fact, you should go out with me because if you don't, that means you're a bitch who judges by appearances. So go on. Prove that you're not like other girls. Make an ugly bloke's day. If you message me back, I'll love you forever. If you don't, I'll rape your auntie.

The Gold-Digger-Digger
I'm very rich and you're obviously a special lady. So special in fact that this message is just for you. Of course I haven't cut and pasted it and sent it to every 18-24 year old in London. No. You're special. I've got a Porsche.

The Conscientious Profile-Reader
I see that you like Monty Python. I too like Monty Python. I see that you have an interest in mathematics. I took a math class in high school. I have to admit, I know little about classical music but I do love to listen to Classic FM late at night. We obviously have much in common.

The Cyber
ur well fit u wana chat?

The Potential Soulmate
I recently read your profile and felt touched by your presence. Two brilliant minds can find solace together as we pass through the vast space alone inside our eyes gazing for eternity in endeavour to turn as we speak above the waters under our feet.* If you don't message me back I'll probably slit my wrists.

The Sensitive Type
I'm a sensitive guy, not like the others. I cry when I watch Forrest Gump. I cry when I watch Tom and Jerry. In fact, I cry pretty much constantly since I'm such a sensitive type. When I'm not blubbing over Queer Eye for the Straight Guy, other hobbies include saving abandoned orphans and writing poetry. Yes, I really think you're going to go weak-kneed over some buffoon who spends his free time penning execrable poetry.

Then there's the language. Internet dating has its own language.

Adventurous = Enjoys participating in golden showers and worse
Uninhibited = Nudist
Sensitive = Psychopath
Wanna chat sometime? = Wanna have cybersex sometime?
ur stunning = I've only looked at your picture
Looking for a special lady = Looking for a pretty but dumb lady
No fat chix = I really haven't given any thought as to how this might be interpreted by today's women who think anything above a size 8 is "fat"
I hate writing about myself = I'm trying to sound charming and modest
I have a webcam if ur interested = Dear God, don't even go there

*This is an actual message I once received
(, Mon 17 Sep 2007, 10:00, Reply)
there are quite a few I could write but...
Last night at the dinner table my son says "I found you on B3TA ... I recognised your vasectomy story"
"Oh" say my wife to me "what else did you put on there?"
"Well there was the vasectomy story and the one about my mum asking my ex for porn"
My son went pale and quietly said "You mean that was you? I'd already read that and didn't look at who posted it by the time I worked out your name. You mean that was nanny?"

So, to save my son having even more information, I had best not post anything about any experience with internet dating I may or may not have had. Which is a pity because the one about the mad welsh woman and the candles is mildly amusing.
(, Fri 14 Sep 2007, 14:22, Reply)
Single male
Interests include water polo, wind surfing and freestyle jazz singing

I never should of condensed it down to "enjoys watersport and scat"

:shudders
(, Sun 16 Sep 2007, 21:01, Reply)
Cat pimp
My mum is a cat pimp and offers the services of her champion pedigree toms to kitties on heat whose owners are willing to pay a few hundred quid for the privilege.

One time, this rather obnoxious, snooty cow, who could quite easily have featured in the film Best in Show, brought in her equally snooty, overly-fluffed, inbred, pugfaced puss for a thorough servicing from prime stud 'Snowwitch Mists of Avalon Trojan Warrior' (the names get worse, believe me).

Pugface tried her very best to gain the stud's attention....arse in the air, choccie starfish on display at all times, meowing like a Yoko Ono record on 78 and rolling around on the floor in a desperate attempt to get buffed into the next century.

Trojan Warrior, however, wasn't in the slightest bit interested. He preferred to turn his attention instead to the giant lop-eared rabbit that ran free in the kittie pen, and mounted himself upon him, ready to give him a good rogering. For his efforts he was rewarded with a series of swift bunny kicks to the feet, body and head.

My mum, embarrassed and desperate to get the money, tried everything to get them to mate that weekend, but alas, Trojan Warrior only had eyes and spiky cat cock for the thunder-footed, big-eared one.

So, that's the sordid world of cat dating for you.
(, Sun 16 Sep 2007, 13:03, Reply)
It's a jungle out there...
Like 'O' we too have taken the plunge and delved into the dark, murky crevice of swingers sites. Mostly just for cyberwanks, a group I.M. if you will.

For the unintiated, we'd host a chat room, get jiggy with it on webcam, other people would comment, egg us on, share, etc.

Yep there's a lot of white noise out there, lots of hairy palmed Ron Jeremy-a-likes, but if we pitched it right we'd coax other couples into getting their kit off too - quite a buzz actually.

One voyeur [Dom John(!)] offered £5000 for 'borrowing' my partner for the weekend and guaranteed to return 'with no permanent marks'.

So, just bimbling along, playing about in a room we hosted (i.e. had control of and could 'kick' disrespectful people) when up pops a random interjection/request, etched indelibly and still the cause of much mirth:

"Hi this is a genuine request please help me.
I need two women to help me fulfil my sexual fantasy. We will drive to local woods. There you will both strip naked as will I. One of you will push me naked through the woods in a a wheelbarrow (which I will supply) whilst the other will sprinkle leaves and twigs over me."
(, Fri 14 Sep 2007, 11:09, Reply)
Seen in local town newspaper in Derbyshire, Personal ads section....
(In the 'men seeking women' section)...

Wanted:
fanny.



Cant believe they printed it.
Unless 'fanny' was her name?
(, Fri 14 Sep 2007, 10:55, Reply)
Does MySpace count?
Recently one of my friends pointed me to a profile on MySpace of a guy who was shopping for a Korean wife. Korea really doesn't do mail-order brides anymore so we decided to get abusive.

I created a fake account on MySpace listing my gender as female, my ethnicity as Asian, and my location as North Korea. I messaged the guy telling him that North Korea is a worker's paradise, and he should come to Pyongyang to visit me. This became my thing and I had a lot of fun with it for a couple days.

After I was through with wife-shoppers, I discovered that a large number of people, mainly American GIs, had listed their location as "Seoul, Democratic People's Republic of Korea." I messaged them ranting about the glory of North Korea, and would often get messages back like "WTF i hate north korea." Consider this a free geography lesson, chums.

I stopped using the account and the messages and offers stacked up. Once I logged back in to find my female North Korean self had become quite popular, with all sorts of messages asking me to visit them if I ever escape, and asking me if I'd consider all sorts of interracial relationships.

The freakiest one was Andrew. In his first message to me he said his friend has access to all sorts of "decoders for FCC and military regulated telecommunitcations frequencies" and asked me "Would you like to make a buy for satellite decoders of FCC or military frequecy applications??"

After that he started trying to recruit me into his own little counter-intelligence ring. He works at the army intel recodrs repository, although probably in a pretty low down position. I figured he was just a low-down guy looking to impress his superiors ("Look, I recruited a North Korean spy!") so he could get into the James Bond lifestyle.

He offered to open a credit card account with a $5000 limit as an act of good faith, and began calling himself "Handsome American Guy, Andrew."

At this point I decided I should really see how far this guy would go, but I maintained silence so all his messages would be unsolicited. Of course I wasn't going to go for the money. Unless it became extremely easy.

At one point I decided to see if I could scare him. I registered a free e-mail on a Chinese website and claimed to be her brother. I said that she was unable to send messages through the North Korean filter, but she could read all his messages and was in love with him. I myself was a defector living in Beijing and communication with my sister was slow. I asked him to take a picture of himself holding a letter addressed to her, which he never did and ending my serious attempts to have him arrested. I said that she was planning to escape the country, and would come to America to visit him.

This had all been happening over several months, and all my friends were getting extremely bored with it. I didn't log in for a long time, and in July I checked again, receiving this message:

"I recently had a legal dispute with local university. They tried to make a criminal charge against me for reporting political flyers on their campus. Somehow, your name from Myspace.com came into the conversation of legal documents. I can not beleive that they are worse than what the United States of America calls the North Korean government. I received you e-mail from MSN hotmail.com and had to use it as legal evidence in my defense. I feel like the campus police can do whatever they what with their authority, they are so powerfull. I will keep you informed if they ask more questions about North Korea, or The Peoples Republic of China. I hope you understand that I am defenseless in this situation in defending your photo on Myspace.com from becoming legal evidence. Blame the CMU university police."

At this point he's either trying to intimidate me into giving something up, or he has actually been caught for sending these sorts of messages to North Koreans and is getting what he deserve, without me having to confess who I am or turn him in.

Anyway, my original intent was to see how many weird creepy messages a random Asian girl would receive through MySpace. The result was staggering. So how far did I take it? I guess it's still ongoing. Currently there is a standing offer for me to stay at his place if I escape North Korea. I still might bust him at some point, but I'm under the assumption now he's a joker trying to string me along. Still, he did offer to give military secrets and a bunch of money to someone he thought was North Korean. That can't be not treason.
(, Fri 14 Sep 2007, 3:25, Reply)
Personal Services
.
I'm not normally the vindictive type but sometimes the "Bad Legless" takes over - mainly when I've been well and truly shafted and violence just isn't an option.

In those circumstances then I just have to get creative and this is something I did once to incredible effect.

Basically, if you want to get your own back and be completely anonymous then try this.

Every note you have in your wallet, pocket or purse, take out and start to write out the phone number (mobile, business or home) of your victim and get perverted on it. Make up ads like:

"Mandy - 007867 222333 - cheap blowjobs"

"Jim - free - takes it up the arse - 007867 222333"

"Becky - 007867 222333 - shags anything for a tenner"

You get the idea. The names you use don't have to be your victim's name or even the same sex. In fact, it's better to vary the sex and the perversions on offer - the better to shock your mark.

Then just spend your cash and repeat with every new note that comes into your hands until bored.

I'm just a bad person to cross.

Cheers
(, Thu 13 Sep 2007, 15:26, Reply)
I have a memory like a fucktard.
As soon as this QOTW opened, my heart sank a bit. I mean, I've never really read personal ads, and have definitely never placed one myself (not that there's anything wrong with that i'm sure). I have absolutely nothing in common with this QOTW. Ah well, I thought...I'll sit the week out.

Then I remembered that my brother (Hi Steve btw) trawls and abuses dating sites like a ravenous hump-monkey with an itchy-crotch.

He certainly has had a modicum of success (his new catchphrase is 'I've got 5 on the go'), so I'm constantly surprised by the number of desperate, lonely, depraved and desperate (so desperate I said it twice) women out there prepared to venture out to some godforsaken crudd-hole of a pub (Hi Charterhouse staff btw) and put out, just as an excuse to get some...any...male company.

He tells me his secret is 'being a bit different' on the profile section of whatever ropey free sites he uses. I would therefore advertise myself as follows.

'Normal bloke seeks normal girl for normal bloke / girl stuff'

From what I've heard, that is more than a bit different to what seems to appear on these sites.

I dunno, what happened to the 'old fashioned way' of meeting suitable partners? Catching the eye, pleasant conversation, listening to what she has to say / how she really feels, bit of romance, holding hands, and treating her like a princess before you spike her 15th drink with rohypnol, take her to a cheap motel and rag her round the room like a filthy piece of bitch-meat before kicking her out, sore and bleeding into the street?

Bloody youth of today eh? They don't know they're born.
(, Fri 14 Sep 2007, 12:47, Reply)
My favourite
A few years ago, circa 2001, scanning through a copy of the "Metro" newspaper I came across the personal ads. I used to (and still do) read them every now and again for a bit of a laugh, but I'll never forget this one. It still makes me chuckle on rainy days:

"Short, fat, hairy builder, 46, with no job, house, car, prospects seeks slim, blonde, rich woman for relationship. Must be 20's".


Golden.
(, Fri 14 Sep 2007, 12:46, Reply)
ON THE ROPES!
from the framley examiner:

NEW BOY IN TOWN.
Bi-curious sockford man, new to scene,
seeks experienced gay man to to show
him the ropes

ANCHORS AWAY!
Bi-curious Fracton sailor, needs to
moor boat, but cannot find requisite
equipment on board, seeks experienced gay
man to to show him the ropes

HEAVE HO!
Bi-curious tug-of-war organiser, standing
in sports shed wondering what he came in
there for, seeks well equipped gay man
to to show him the ropes

LORD OF THE RING
Bi-curious Sockford man, lost in middle
of boxing rung and unable to find way out,
seeks experienced gay man to to show him
the ropes

KETCH ME IF YOU CAN!
Bi-curious trainee bellringer, until now
convinced that bells are rung by trampolining
into the belfry and nutting them with his
forehead but beginning to suspect there
may be a means of sounding a peal of bells
from the floor of the church using some kind
of pulley system seeks huge black man to fuck
him up the bum.
(, Thu 13 Sep 2007, 19:24, Reply)
Back in 1996...
...when I was still in Uni and t'net was still in its infancy and the most hi-tec information system in the house was Teletext, my housemates and I used to get drunk ad watch the dating ads scroll by. One night we spotted an ad from a gay Star Trek fan looking for a bloke who was a cross between Jean-Luc Picard and Phil Mitchell.

Now, our housemate Donkey wasn't gay but he was a huge Star Trek fan. More importantly, he wasn't in the house. So, we rang this guy up, put on a northern accent, and left a message that went somewhere along the lines of "I'd like to boldly go to Uranus."

I know. Comedy genius.

Anyway, next day and while we're sufferingfrom our collective hangovers the phone starts ringing. It's for Donkey. He takes the call, looks bemused, tries to explain that it must be a mistake or a wrong number, and hangs up before telling us how some guy was asking him how big his cock was. We all pulled suitably puzzled expressions and went on with our lives, each of us sneaking off to our rooms for a quick giggle when we could.

The next day, the phone goes. It's for Donkey. Again. Again, he explains that its a mistake, hangs up. And says the same thing the day after that. And the day after that too. And pretty much every day for the next six months until the guy finally got the hint and stopped calling... just in time for us all to graduate and leave the house anyway.
(, Thu 13 Sep 2007, 15:58, Reply)
Surprise!
Apparently "TV" does not mean "likes watching television". I like watching television, "she" had other hobbies.
(, Fri 14 Sep 2007, 17:38, Reply)
he loves the pussy..........and the bum?
I had the misfortune to work for a company where my two immediate workmates consisted of a full grade-A pervert and a family man. One dull morning forementioned pervert approached me in a very excited state. I assumed at this point he was on the verge of telling me about last nights escapades where his spit roasted a prozzie with his dad (but no, he saved that for Wednesday)

He stood hunched over me, his whole body jerking as though an electrical current was flowing through him. The white spittle that had gathered in the corners of his mouth sprayed liberally over the back of my head as told me of a startling discovery. It turns out that whilst surfing a swingers website for some local fun he discovered an advert posted by our very own "family man".

This was too good an oppurtunity to miss so we got straight on the interweb and pulled up his details. There he was, photos and all, praising the joys of munching on a juicy pussy. At this point I should mention that I knew his password to his hotmail account that he was using for these personal ads. Mainly because he lacked any imagination and all of his passwords were the same.

I decided to take a quick look (re:repeatadly log in and snoop around) at his hotmail account. This was possibly, one of my biggest mistakes ever. There were about six or seven replies from men, mostly old and fat, holding their limp todgers in their hands.

The worst one was a reply to a reply from the "family man" where he stated he was very keen to "fuck and suck" and that he was a "new boy on the block". This was followed with a picture......of him on the bed holding his engorged member for all to see.

Everytime I saw him with his wife and kids, a small blob of bile would bubble up into the back of my throat.
(, Fri 14 Sep 2007, 9:15, Reply)
...
I've dabbled in internet dating with varying success, but the best email I got was :

"Please contact me , you're just the right height!"

I was too scared to ask for what !!
(, Thu 13 Sep 2007, 20:32, Reply)
Never trust the 'phone voice...
Oh God, I've done it. I've actually done it. Clearly, I crave attention.

How about something that's vaguely on-topic?

Many, many moons ago - while all of this were still fields and a lad could get a bottle of pop and a chocolate bar out of a pound and still have enough change to buy half of Yorkshire - an eighteen-year-old Devil was working bar in rural Essex.

One sunny summer's afternoon, a friend and regular of mine came in to the bar, and sat down, looking pale and shaken. After ordering a pint of finest, and drinking healthily of it, I felt brave enough to inquire as to what was making my punter look so ashen.

"Well mate," spake he, his voice sounding hollow and somewhat inhuman "I met this girl, y'see..."

Turns out that Frankie (which we'll call this guy as everyone else was doing it) had been on the 'phone to Vodafone, about something or other. Anyway, he and the lady on the other end of the 'phone get talking, and she (unbelievably!) says that she was depressed because she'd put a lonely heart out in the local paper, and hadn't had any responses. Frankie thinks to himself that's a tragic tale, and takes it upon himself to ride (as it were) to this damsels aid. He figures that she sounds nice, so why not go for it? He suggests, playfully, that they should meet.

Within seconds, she has a date in the diary and sounds like Frankie has just made her day, week, month and year. She's taken his mobile number so they can keep contact during the 2 weeks until they get to finally meet.

She then proceeds to text him. On the half hour. Every half hour. And if he didn't reply, she would get hysterical and phone him every 10 minutes until he answered, whether he was working or not.

Just when he's thinking about changing his number, or leaving the country, the Big Day comes around. For reasons still as yet unexplained (nearly 10 years later), he went to Birmingham to meet her.

And this is where the story takes a twist. He is stood at New Street (I imagine with a red carnation or something), and then gets a tap on the shoulder. He turns around, and is met with a (in his words) "mountain" who looks gleefully happy to see him. Her opening line is "I've booked a hotel, are you coming?" and then turns to sashay (wobble) seductively (slowly) away.

It's as this point Frankie became sketchy on detail. It seems he went to the hotel with this lady, and it also seems that they each hopped on to their good feet and did the bad thing. He even said that it was some of the most energetic, playful and downright good sex he had ever had.

So why the ashen face? He'd woken up from the glow of post-coital sleep, to find the girl rimming him.

So, it wasn't so much about how Frankie went down the rabbit hole, but more about how she went up his Warren...
(, Mon 17 Sep 2007, 11:33, Reply)

This question is now closed.

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