Seeking good times! You: Sexy lady. Age/race not important. RBT

This was what Robert’s ad on Craig’s List said, not that I ever look at classified ads.

What happened was I was looking through the site one night, drunk off my ass, and looking through the Discussion Forums through one, slitted eye.

I went on the Haiku site and wrote, Please, I try hard! Grammpa donut hurt/ME! I love you old white hairs, TRAINs/No vazeleen, I stab!

I added the following to the Kink board: Run a train on my fat-ass fo the fawklift cums!

Then I looked at Casual Encounters. This guy I knew was getting laid after composing such ads as “Vibrating Tongue Seeks Quivering Legs” and “Are You Still on Your Period and Feel Like Gettin Some?”

I wanted something approximately that serious, and was about to write “SWF Seeks Man w/Forceps, Lesions and Good Sense of Humour” when I saw Robert’s austere ad. I wrote him and pretty soon we were writing back and forth.

He was a good listener in that my letters were long and rambling and usually had an attachment like this play I am writing called Sex and the City, which is about a gigantic woman who fucks skyscrapers and uses waterfalls for a douche.

Excellent, he would always say.

I have to meet you, I said. I am not pretty, but could be sexy for the right man.

He agreed, and said, It had better not rain! And that seemed angry and weird, but I let it go and I took forever, dressing like Carol King, on the cover of Tapestry.

I was waiting at the bar, this bar called NIGHT which was of course very dark, and sort of rancid, and the bartender had Thalidomide arms, which made it awkward but after a while they started to look like shooting stars.

And then this robot came in. Tall as my waist, with a square head and hinged jaw, rotating middle, and jointed legs.

Yes, this was “RBT” and he crawled on a stool and the bartender made a fuss, and he kissed me and shoved his serrated metal tongue in my mouth and we drank oil and grenadine all night long.

And yes, I did sleep with him and it was incredible. Me, him and Kevin the bartender, and in the morning, a piece of paper shot out of RBT’s mouth that said “I will be swamped at work for the next few weeks. Leave me your number?”

Kevin was in the kitchen and he waved at me, those stars!

I never heard from him, which did hurt even though I expected it. What I didn’t expect was to fall in love with all of my appliances and to, one night, take the blender to bed and set it on “Liquefy.”

That hot robot bastard is still out there. I know he won’t call, but it gets a bit lonely, hoping that he will.