Spelling Nazi and the Opera
So I got this email a few days ago. It's from this guy who saw my BigMuscle profile and thought I looked really hot. He sent along some photos of himself and, you know what? He's pretty hot too. Big rugby guy, a little goatee, a few tattoos, aggressive top man, mid-thirties with really big arms... yeah, I can handle that. He said he wanted to meet me sometime. Okay, sounds great. Awesome!
The Spelling Nazi poked his head around the corner, but I didn't pay him much heed. I don't expect perfect spelling in emails, and hey, even I make mistakes sometimes (...sometimes). And besides, he'll probably just be a brief go-for-a-couple-beers-then-go-back-to-my-place-and-see-what-happens kind of thing, where writing ability doesn't really come into play. So I wrote him back with the affirmative.
He wrote me again with a few more pictures and a few more details about himself... and with a note that he really liked my picture of me playing with my nipples (funny how many guys seem to like that one). I'd asked him if he was a local Vancouver guy and he said no, but that he and some friends were gonna be heading up to Whistler this coming month and he wanted to meet me on his way through. Cool! More pictures, more titillation... and more spelling errors! I mean, it was still bearable, but come on, don't you have spell check? Don't you proof read? Don't your fingers have some wiring to that sexy thing on your big, broad shoulders? Whatever, no big deal. Like I said, his spelling ability isn't that big a concern to me. I don't think so, anyway.
Third email came this morning and the Spelling Nazi came right on out, goose stepping his way all over the screen. My god, I could barely read the damn thing! Letters from different words jumbled all up together, total mishmash... it was barely recognizable as English anymore! I dunno, maybe the guy's one-handed-typing while he's otherwise occupied staring at my profile, and maybe I should be flattered. But honestly, it was hard to deal with. When he'd mentioned in his second email that he lived in Boston, I kinda got this immediate impression of Boston = Harvard = Smart, but now I'm almost a little worried that those introductory beers will be hard to get through. Who knows? Hopefully his conversational skills are better than his typing, because as much as I'd like him to get all aggressive and toppish with me, I'd at least like to have a bit of a "How do you do?" before letting him plow my fertile fields.
Whatever, I'll make it work. Rugby; muscles; tattoos; aggressive; killer smile... hell, even if he couldn't string two words together I'd probably still jump him. I need more overpowering muscle men in my ass life.
On a completely unrelated note, I have a friend visiting from Montreal. He's here to perform in an opera and he's got a ticket for me to watch the dress rehearsal this Thursday. Cool! I've never actually seen an opera before, so I'm looking forward to it. To be perfectly honest, I'm not sure if I'll like it -- opera is probably too far on the hoity-toity artsy side for my tastes -- but I think it's something everyone should do at some point. You know, just so you know what's out there. And who knows? I might be blown away and become a changed man. But whether I like the opera or not, I think it'll be a great experience and something I'll remember for a good long while. It'll be fun.
The Spelling Nazi poked his head around the corner, but I didn't pay him much heed. I don't expect perfect spelling in emails, and hey, even I make mistakes sometimes (...sometimes). And besides, he'll probably just be a brief go-for-a-couple-beers-then-go-back-to-my-place-and-see-what-happens kind of thing, where writing ability doesn't really come into play. So I wrote him back with the affirmative.
He wrote me again with a few more pictures and a few more details about himself... and with a note that he really liked my picture of me playing with my nipples (funny how many guys seem to like that one). I'd asked him if he was a local Vancouver guy and he said no, but that he and some friends were gonna be heading up to Whistler this coming month and he wanted to meet me on his way through. Cool! More pictures, more titillation... and more spelling errors! I mean, it was still bearable, but come on, don't you have spell check? Don't you proof read? Don't your fingers have some wiring to that sexy thing on your big, broad shoulders? Whatever, no big deal. Like I said, his spelling ability isn't that big a concern to me. I don't think so, anyway.
Third email came this morning and the Spelling Nazi came right on out, goose stepping his way all over the screen. My god, I could barely read the damn thing! Letters from different words jumbled all up together, total mishmash... it was barely recognizable as English anymore! I dunno, maybe the guy's one-handed-typing while he's otherwise occupied staring at my profile, and maybe I should be flattered. But honestly, it was hard to deal with. When he'd mentioned in his second email that he lived in Boston, I kinda got this immediate impression of Boston = Harvard = Smart, but now I'm almost a little worried that those introductory beers will be hard to get through. Who knows? Hopefully his conversational skills are better than his typing, because as much as I'd like him to get all aggressive and toppish with me, I'd at least like to have a bit of a "How do you do?" before letting him plow my fertile fields.
Whatever, I'll make it work. Rugby; muscles; tattoos; aggressive; killer smile... hell, even if he couldn't string two words together I'd probably still jump him. I need more overpowering muscle men in my ass life.
On a completely unrelated note, I have a friend visiting from Montreal. He's here to perform in an opera and he's got a ticket for me to watch the dress rehearsal this Thursday. Cool! I've never actually seen an opera before, so I'm looking forward to it. To be perfectly honest, I'm not sure if I'll like it -- opera is probably too far on the hoity-toity artsy side for my tastes -- but I think it's something everyone should do at some point. You know, just so you know what's out there. And who knows? I might be blown away and become a changed man. But whether I like the opera or not, I think it'll be a great experience and something I'll remember for a good long while. It'll be fun.