Despite social distancing, quarantining and living every day like we’re in solitary confinement, we humans (and that’s most of you) remain desirous of intimate company. And although the invisibly menacing world of teeny-tiny viruses stand ready to devastate our dampest membranes (both in the lungs and in the loins), the sexual imperative will not be denied. The God-given urge to get naked with a loved one and perform the Heimlich maneuver is always in vogue – and in many other magazines too. And even though we are aware of the rational arguments against risky exposure, the absurd choreography of human love yearns to perform its irrational dance with a willing partner.
The underachieving and overbearing year of 2020 is driving us crazy. We were underprepared and overwhelmed by the Coronavirus, social injustices and the whole Aunt Jemima thing. By April, most of us were already asking for a “do over.” And as if 2020 hasn’t been cuckoo enough, you know what else drives us crazy? – the sex drive. It doesn’t so much drive us crazy as it drives us to distraction. You don’t even need a license to drive it – hormones will gladly steer the sex drive onto some very sketchy assfault. Since we all feel the urge to merge, it’s best to get a grip on yourself (or at least the steering wheel) and choose the merge lane that feels best for you.
BTW, I’ve never seen a hormone. I’ve heard one. But I’ve never seen one.
The siren call of the loins beseeches us like the smell of bacon. This call/smell/drive causes many to risk everything for one powerful spasm of forbidden ecstasy. The French refer to this euphoric eruption as la petite mort or the little death. And the French are onto something here. But no matter how you get your “Napoleon Blownapart,” la petite mort brings us eerily closer to something we’re not too familiar with. Or maybe just farther away from everything we’re all too familiar with. In any event it sure beats asexual reproduction (at least from what my spore friends tell me). In the vast scope of motivating action, I don’t think anything has been so extravagantly incentivized as sex; that is until Frito Lay reformulated the Cheeto to make it diabolically irresistible.
Sex is so supremely satisfying and so unlike anything else we do; it’s won special status in our lives. Most rate it below bacon, but above Amazon package tracking. On the one hand, the indescribable joy associated with sex is impregnable. While on the other, the indescribable surprise associated with fertilization is very pregnable.
The urge to merge penetrates and informs our current quarantine conditions. Long distance dating leaves a lot to be desired, but presently it’s the only game in town. This virus has given us pause to rethink what it means to love someone from afar. For example, social distance dating on Xoom has given new meaning to the word “screenshot” and generated quite a few sheepish phone calls to the Geek Squad – “That’s right. I’m not sure why my PC isn’t responding. I think I mighta spilled something onto the keyboard.”
Disclaimer Please note: The descriptions and accounts of sexual pleasure may vary. And past performance is no guarantee of future pleasure. Your actual pleasure may vary depending on market conditions, nerve endings and the “curve appeal” of the one you’re with. It is also wise to ensure your body is properly warmed up before you take it out for a sex drive. Please remember, the most important sexual organ is the one between your ears – and how you get it there is your business. A cautionary tale reminds us that the frenzy you enjoy today can lead to an unlaunched offspring residing in your basement well past the age of 30. As always, consult your clergyman before beginning any regimen of regular sex. This will likely have a chilling effect on the entire enterprise. If you’d like validation of your sexual pursuits, consult a digitally savvy, certified sex worker. I hear they’ve got a set of satin spreadsheets that explains everything.
But always with my ear to the ground and my finger on the pulse of the zeitgeist, I’ve taken the time to curate and present a sampling of personal ads in the time of the coronavirus. I’ve culled them from a variety of sources including Craigslist, Karenslist and Jet Magazine. This piece is a monument to posterity. One, I hope, that will never be toppled by an angry mob; unless somehow the prudish Amish come to power in a Coup de Bonnet. So, without further adieu, I mean without further ado, I herewith list a compilation of heartfelt advertisements for companionship during the time of the Coronavirus.
- Are you COVID Curious? – Do you wonder what it would be like to be with someone who’s COVID positive? I do. I’m COVID negative but curious to be with someone who’s COVID positive. I want your body. Not your curvy physical body, but your life-giving anti-bodies. The only bodily fluid I’m interested in swapping is your blood serum for my exhaled mist. Contact me soon. My situation is fluid. To be clear, I’m pro-antibodies, anti-probiotic and pro-antioxidant. I’m also pro-Aunty Carolyn, but then again everyone loves my Aunty Carolyn.
- Professed Weirdo – Likes to play the Game of Chicken with graham crackers. I’ll stare you down while our graham crackers are each deeply dunked into a tall glass of milk, soaking up all the moo juice until maybe, if you’re not careful, it falls into the abyss. Then we’ll see which of us withdraws their dusky cracker intact last, or suffers the heartbreak of the soggy wafer breaking off and ignominiously sinking into the drink. Again, I know it’s weird, but it’s harmless and I’m so lonely.
- Open-hearted Man Seeks Closure – Only thing I can’t tolerate is acceptance. And the only thing I can’t resist is temptation. Together we can carve out some time to be alone…with each other.
- Unique Eunuch – Wants to celebrate the cancel culture with other sad sac people. Do you identify as a sexless protozoa swimming around in the primordial soup? Someone who’d prefer to procreate via cell division rather than bumping uglies? Well then, let’s party like it’s 3 billion years BC!
- Pansexual Hermaphrodite – My gender identity toggles between a pre-op lesbian and a post-doc breeder. As you can tell, I don’t have a Clue. I do however have Monopoly and Candyland, but alas no Clue. I’ve had so many sexual reassignment surgeries I’m able to make both withdrawals and deposits at sperm banks.
- Animal Husbandry? – I feel a little sheepish just mentioning this, but I’m attracted to livestock. You see, I’ve heard herd immunity lets you act with impunity. I’m not baaaad. I just write that way. My name is Bo Peep Schmidt and I’m a German shepherd. Contact me. Ewe won’t be disappointed. You’ll find me outstanding in my field. I mean out, standing in my field.
- Hard Pass – Inveterate hermit seeks self. I had me at “Waaaaaaa” – right after the obstetrician slapped me on the ass. Don’t know why I’m even telling you this except to say quarantining is like a honeymoon for me. I’m always having a watch party. I’m watching me. Self-contained and loving it. Well, you know my motto – “My Life Matters.”
- Domineering Woman – My stern nature belies a sweeter, kittenish side. Get to know me. I’m really very generous. I promise never to put air quotes around your penis.
- Willing to Smear – I have over 5 kinds of mustard in my refrigerator alone, and a packet drawer filled with Arby’s Secret Sauce. Let’s launch a smear campaign against each other. Let me rub you with all my heart. I just want someone to rub. PS: Ask me about my slush fund. I’m insatiable. After we smear, we’ll smear some more and have some s’mores. S’wonderful. S’marvelous.
- Let’s Get Close – My last girlfriend wouldn’t touch me with a 10-foot pole. But now, due to social distancing, you can use a 6-footer. This is an intimacy formerly unknown to me. Call me kinky, but I find pole-touching very pole-arising.
- Trisexual says 3rd Time’s a Charm – I’m a trisexual (in that I’ll “try” anything once – except Mike Pence). My roommate is quadrasexual. Which means he’s capable of having orgies with himself.
- My Probation Officer Certifies Me – My P.O. has had me remastered and reissued in a boxed set suitable for humping (her words, not mine). Anyway, as ABBA so eloquently stated “Take a Chance on Me.”
- Xoom, Xoom, Xoom – Let’s hook up on video chat to exchange dirty sign language, off-color Italian hand gestures and leering looks while wearing N-69 masks.
- Kinky Farmer – Enjoys watching grainy CCTV videos of cars going through Agricultural Inspection Stations. “Are those bananas in your trunk or are you just transporting them across state lines for immoral purposes?”
- Sensitive Woman – Prefers someone with an exoskeleton or just really thick skin. If your house has a 3-way lamp with a 2-way bulb in it so that when you turn the switch, you have to turn it twice to get the lamp to go off or on…I’m the girl for you. To sum it up: thick-skin, 2-way in a 3-way, and if this a medical emergency, stop reading for Christ’s sake and dial 911.
- I’m A Semantic Semite – Please help this once gruntled, but now disgruntled Jew. Well I’m not really a Jew. I’m just Jew-ish. I’d hoped to feel straught, but instead I’m feeling rather distraught. Anyway, I’m currently short of vagance. Do you have any extravagance? Sometimes I look at a handful of quarters and nickels and say, “Be the change.” To help impose order on this chaos, I visited the Israeli Consulate and they said I was in a gloomy mood and referred me to the Israeli Disconsolate. As you can tell mine is an easy, carefree world of simplicity and sunshine.
- Pouting Scrabble Vixen – What do you do when life gives you E-I-A-O-U-I-E. You can’t make lemonade. I mean you could if you got the right letters. But what you can make from E-I-A-O-U-I-E? Old MacDonald knows it’s – “eieio.” I believe one good vowel movement deserves another. Are you consonant with that? If so actnoct me (contact me).
- Free Spirit Seeks Psychological Liberation – Can we finally be who we really are and remove the masks of who we pretend to be. I will if you will. PS: Must wear a mask.
- Certified Gemologist Hopes to Get Your Rocks Off – Then I’ll clean them, reset them and make them sparkle like they never have before. I am trustworthy and very onyx. Onyxly, I’ve been in business since 1982. Edit: Hmmm, judging from the responses I’m getting, I may have placed this ad in the wrong section of Craigslist.
- Anal Retentive Cook – Craves the company of hygienic epicureans for good clean fun and highly organized food. For example, there are no Sloppy Joes in this kitchen, only Tidy Joes. My 7-layer dip is forever stratified by serving it in 7 separate dishes – who needs unsightly dip divots? And my pineapple upside down cake is served right side up and ramrod straight.
- ***This entry under construction…working on a Rinse-a-Roni shampoo joke…♫ lather and simmer the flavor can’t be beat. Rinse-a-Roni, the San Francisco treat♫. Hey, not everything is a finished product – have you looked in the mirror lately?***
- Self-Made Millionaire – Well I’m not exactly self-made. My parents had something to do with it. But I did make my fortune one quarter at a time, selling air & water at gas station kiosks. I long to live in nature where the air is almost free and the water reasonably priced. Hope to see you at the pump.
- Who’s Trippin’ – I’m determined, before the end of the decade, to take a grandfather clock across the country on a dolly and return it safely to Nashua, NH . I propose to do this not because it is easy, but because it is hard. You in?
- My Secret Shame – Kinky feline voyeur likes watching his cats lick the armpits of his girlfriends. Some think it’s fetishistic. Fashionistas find it fascinating. Still don’t know why I’m banned from PETA.
- Opposites Attract? – Belligerent Neo-Nazi seeks militant Anti-Fa for hush-hush hyphenated fun. Achtung Baby!
- Greece-y Chilean Seeks Straight Pole for Hungary Games – Must go slow. Don’t be Russian. This Israel. I’m Syrias. Kenya please Sing-a-poor man to sleep. I’ve got time. I Ku-wait. Oman this is great. Iraq my brain looking for an Afghan-I-can-stand. Beijing, done that. Turkey? Can I get it Togo? Meanwhile I’ll be hanging with Chad. I Haiti see ya go. So, while you can, please visit the mostly united tate of me.
- Lovable Loser – Aspired to be the 5th Beatle, but only got as far as the 13th Monkee, seeks a woman of uncommon velour. If you’re not made out of out of velour, taffeta also works for me. The point is let’s swatch each other and see if we’re cut from the same cloth. People say I monkey around.
- Asking for a Friend – He wants to know if there’s anyone out there who’d be interested in buying some lightly used department store mannequins.
- Real Operator Interested in Phone Sex – Not with people, but with actual phones. Please help me find a female phone that’s interested in me as a person and not just a disembodied voice. You should know I have very few hang ups and I’m told my telephonic brand of love is absolutely off the hook. For me, phone sex is more than just a booty call. Signed, Henri Cliché.
- Are you a Hunter or a Gatherer? – Swinging primate hopes to dazzle you with his swanky mancave. I’ll bring home the bacon, if you fry it up in a pan. When I go “clubbing,” it’s probably not what you think. We’ll spend quality time grooming each other on moonlit nights before we appease our many Gods by making love near the great volcano. Please don’t respond to ad with, “I gather you’re a hunter.” BTW, I’m Paleo and Keto positive.
It’s like my daddy always said; “Son, some day you’re not going to be coming home to your body. Are you ready for that?”
I don’t know if you’re ever ready for that, but I am certainly curious – COVID Curious.