Like the oil barons, loggers, and mining prospectors of yore, I came to Southeast Alaska to tap a rich vein of 24 carat gold. But this motherlode isn’t in the hills away up north of Berner’s Bay. No, it is found deep in the verdant valleys of the Juneau Craigslist personal ads.
Dragging anonymous, inadvertently unselfaware douchebags online is my business, and business is good.
TIMBER HO, MUTHAFUCKHAAAAAHHHHHZZZ!
Now, let me just state the obvious: I would never shame this man if I knew (or even suspected) who he was, so my critique of his personal ad should be viewed simply as a favor.
A favor from someone with a vagina to someone looking for a vagina, in order to help the latter rebound hard into a half-order of tuna tacos like a gynecologist at a trampoline park made entirely of pussy.
So let’s roll up our sleeves and dig in, shall we?
First of all, you’re looking for “fit, smart, and witty” and you yourself (shockingly) are also “fit, smart, and witty.” What happened to opposites attract? Maybe obsese, dumb, and humorless would be an easier sell?
In any case, the first rule of compelling writing is “show don’t tell.” So perhaps instead of declaring your fitness, wit, and intelligence you could somehow demonstrate at least the last two qualities by not advertising for rebound poon on Craigslist.
See, Craigslist in 2017 is where you go to find BDSM bottoms, oboe lessons, Russian mail-order brides, and used pleather recliners. Not REI-catalogue quality tail in wraparound sunglasses, powder skis, and two cute braids, knowm sayin?
Also, are you SURE you “have no enemies?” If you’re Juneau famous, as you’ve said, then you likely have some enemies.
Take it from one medium-sized goldfish in a shallow muddy koi pond to another: to know you is to love you, and to not know you is to call you a reprehensible cunt online and probably behind your back as well.
So before you declare yourself both enemy-free AND “fairly well-connected,” it might behoove you to learn that those two concepts are mutually exclusive, at least in Juneau.
Getting to the specifics, what exactly is the “usual SE-AK stuff?” Surely boating, hiking, hunting, and fishing come to mind.
But also going to a store that’s supposed to be open and finding it inexplicably closed for no reason, ordering a $12 salad made of Costco spinach that is not available despite appearing on a restaurant’s menu, waking up to find your ferry sailing canceled and your ass parked in Petersburg for an extra week with no spare underpants, and wiping out on icy Main Street in downtown Juneau in the wrong pair of Dansko clogs that you wore home from a potluck last night also fit the bill, no?
Is that the stuff you mean? If so, it might be smart and witty of you to say so.
We’re also going to need some more details on the whole “my wife slept with another man and called me while she was doing it” piece of the narrative. This is where things get interesting, and you should exploit the pain of being cuckolded for a good story arc here.
Like, did she literally put you on speaker WHILE she was doing “IT?!” If so, that is a pretty sick burn and I almost want to call up your ex-wife myself and high-five her because that is some expert-level trolling.
I’m not sure what if anything you could have done to deserve a phone call mid-bone with your boo’s side-piece.
I’m not suggesting it’s your fault, mind you. I’m also not NOT suggesting it’s not your fault, if that makes sense. Especially given your brutal honesty, which in this context is not actually the best policy.
Now I don’t claim to speak for all intellectual friendly outdoors “girls” when I say this to a 45 year-old man—allegedly with his shit together—who might therefore be better suited to a grownass woman and not a “girl.”
But I’m gonna be straight with you, my father-figure/preacher-teacher: life isn’t a George Michael video, and most independent, educated professional women would PROBABLY prefer not to know that the only reason you want in their size S Patagonia yoga pants is because your ruthless level-10 crazy ex-wife made you listen to her humping out the reverse cowgirl on some other dudebro.
“At least that’s my plan.” Cool plan, bro!
How about a new plan: Hit control/alt/delete and reboot, because this plan is not about to get you laid.
I want to make that very clear.