When the first of my failed marriages finally came to an end, there was one thing I wanted above all else: sex. Not passionate lovemaking infused with deep emotion, but raw fucking that leaves a really big wet spot. I seriously entertained the idea of hiring a hooker for her services, but I was a “high-end call girl” kind of guy on a “toothless crack whore” budget, so paying for sex was out of the question. And, as a shy alcoholic who’d been dry for less than a year, joining the inebriated herd at a singles bar was unthinkable. So I decided to try what was then a relatively new option for desperate and socially isolated people in search of companionship: internet dating.
Back in those days, internet personal ads tended to be very Spartan in nature. Most people didn’t even post pictures. You simply indicated your gender, age, and body type, and the gender, age, and body type of your potential mate, then hoped for the best. In my case, this translated into something along the lines of “slim, 32-year-old man seeks anyone between the ages of 18 and 55 who was born with and currently has a vagina and is not suffering from morbid obesity or an incurable sexually transmitted disease.” Degree of physical beauty was highly negotiable. Intellect and personality were irrelevant…
