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April 23, 2005 / Kate

Personal ads for book nerds. Jess, this one’s for you

From the London Review of Books

PERSONALS
Would you like to surprise my bookshelves? M, 34, living in Berkshire, seeks 30-something woman to suggest new things to read and more interesting reasons for not reading them. Box no. 08/01

Tolstoy, 34, seeks Anna 07939 666328
Lazy, horny, Luddite flâneur, male, 52, seeks buxom, cheerful, affectionate female with low expectations, who wants to have lots of sex. This idler has a few cultural interests for the moments in between – poetry, art, film and opera amongst them. Down-to-earth, amiable – him, and you. No texts or emails please. Just letters, telephone, human contact. I did say I was a Luddite. Box no. 08/02

Chomsky seeks Greer. markofabian2@yahoo.com
About fornication. Open sensual alliance, secret affair, possibly closer association but not intentional brief encounter. Thoughtful guy, 55, seeks like-minded woman. London/South-East. Box no. 08/03

LRB? Never read it… hoping for a better class of tottie. F, 35. Eric Morecambe, dogs, spring, crispy duck, good dialogue (written and oral), tea, slapstick, Thatcher’s death, vodka, cheek muscles. wotmakesyousmile@yahoo.co.uk

F, 55, Brooklyn-accented exile, seeks royaume. karamazova@earthlink.net
Woman, 36. Likes anagrams, crosswords, logic puzzles and screwing with your head. It’s not that I don’t like you. Box no. 08/04

I like you because you read magazines with big words. And you’ve got great booblies. I can live without the first. But the second is non-negotiable. Shallow man, 34. When I say ‘shallow’, I mean, damn. Box no. 08/08

Male readers of the LRB: trawling for sex as your opening gambit doesn’t really work. Talk to me about your favourite author; the painting that means the most to you; what smells remind you of your childhood; the day you first saw your parents differently; your first holiday; your favourite place to read; the last recipe you followed; the most recent newspaper clipping you kept; the name of a lover you most recently remembered; your favourite stretch of water; what you like most about Paris or Rome or London; the last time you fed ducks on a pond. Actually, I’m short on time. Go ahead and trawl. Woman, 39. Publishing. Get on with it. Box no. 08/09

Woman, 43, would like to meet a man – any man – whose evolutionary path isn’t that of Homer Simpson. Suspecting that’s too difficult, I may go lesbian. Box no. 08/10

Yes, sir. I can boogie. Man. Academic. 62. Quite possibly gay. Box no. 08/12

Massive-breasted heiress, 38, seeks witty Nobel-awarded intellectual beef-cake gardener-chef-poet with stonking pecs. Like me, you are dynamic, hilarious, serious, ironic, passionate, practical, affectionate, kind, funny, have most of your own legs, and are startled to find yourself still cruising the aisles of the Lurve Bazaar. Unlike me, you don’t exist. Am I right? If so, will consider any M who can make conversation, sense, a living, friends, four cooked meals, hot love and me laugh. Box no. 07/01

Years ago the Louisiana state legislature voted a new state slogan. “Louisiana: A Dream State”. It ran for months before they caught the double-entendre. LRB ads are like that. British humour is hard to catch. So are British men. A friend asked, “What are you using for bait?” “American charm?” I said. Failed Southern belle, 45, tall, slim, n/s, London, eats well, reads widely, travels idiosyncratically, tells a good story. Box no. 07/02

I am the type of female that is thrilled by the tempestuous passions of a slightly mysterious swashbuckling financier who makes his living outfoxing corrupt capitalists and bullying bureaucrats then occasionally pulls away from the tumult in the Grand Cayman Islands. Box no. 07/04

I’ve committed every decorating sin listed in the March edition of Elle Decoration and I’m proud. M., 41, with carpeted bathroom, artex ceilings and a wealth of porcelain shepherdesses seeks laminate-crazy woman to 45 for nights of painting the hallway magnolia. And after that, insane sex in front of my MDF mock-Victorian TV cabinet (I’ll polish the brass handles just for you). Box no. 07/05

Ploughing the loneliest furrow. 19 LRB personals and counting. Only one reply. It was my mother telling me not to forget the bread on my way home from B&Q. Man., 51. Box no. 07/06

This is as gay as I get. Man, 37. Box no. 07/07

The most used button on my keyboard is the underscore. I haven’t used it once in the making of this ad. I don’t know what that says about my personality, but I’m fairly confident it isn’t good. Woman, 32. Box no. 07/09

There’s enough lithium in my medicine cabinet to power three electric cars across a sizeable desert. I’m more than aware that this isn’t actually a selling point, but nonetheless it’s my favourite statistic about me. Man, 33 – officially Three Cars Crazy. Box no. 07/10
Every woman I’ve ever met is painted with unnerving accuracy by the ads placed in this column. You’re all my mother, aren’t you? M., 37, Worcs. Box no. 07/11

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4 Comments

Leave a Comment
  1. Gill / Apr 23 2005 3:30 pm

    Hi, your blog is my ‘blog of the day’ today, over on http://sometimesitspeaceful.blogspot.com/

  2. vasisthadas / Apr 23 2005 4:39 pm

    Indie band name! “The Personal Nerds”

    Haha, oh yeah.

  3. Kate / Apr 24 2005 8:54 am

    Thanks Gill!

  4. Kate / Apr 24 2005 8:55 am

    Pudge

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