Easy Does It -- 4

Chapter 4 

She laughed. She cried. She was drunk.

That night, Julie logged onto CoupleMe.com and began typing in her personal ad. She considered it again. What exactly did she want? Posting for a mate was sort of like ordering a pizza. Did she want another vegetarian, or something with a little meat?

Meat, she thought. This time I want meat.

She typed. Took a sip of wine. Thought: Mmmmm. Merlot is yummy. Took another sip of wine.

What was she supposed to say? The truth? I’m lonely. I’m in love with my ex-boyfriend. I’m totally dependable and predictable, which means…I’m boring. You could feel those things, but you couldn’t write them. She sipped her wine. 

She looked at the picture of Ronny she still kept by her computer. It was her favorite shot of him on the night they met nearly five years ago. He was playing piano for his band, The Two Wets. He stood in a spotlight, head tilted up, his face pinched. It was a familiar expression to Julie since it was the same pose he struck when he had an orgasm, except without the spotlight.  

Julie toasted the picture and gulped. Usually, she’d stop at one glass, because wine tended to make her loopy, but tonight was a special night. She was in search of loopy. She poured another glass, stuck her tongue out at Ronny, and slammed his smug orgasm-face on the table. She couldn’t look at him any more especially since she hadn’t had an orgasm-face in months. 

If she were being honest, and drinking an entire bottle of wine led her to be pretty honest, Julie admitted she felt like that miscellaneous sock at the bottom of the laundry basket, the one you keep washing in hopes that its second half would eventually show up. “Thass me,” she slurred to the computer screen. “I’m a sock. A hole filled socky-sock-sock.” 

Julie tried to pick up her cell phone and call Eve but she was having trouble seeing the buttons clearly. No need. She could post this ad on her own. She didn’t need Eve to hold her hand with everything. She would post this ad!            

She grabbed her “Semen” personal ad and began typing. Maybe she would change her ad. Cheer it up a bit, like Eve said.

She made a small change. Good. Then she thought: I’ll just erase the pottery shards and tweak it. Just tweak it a teeny, tiny bit. Tweak, tweak!

She wrote so quickly she barely knew what she was typing. Her words flew from her in a torrent. She laughed. She cried. She was drunk. She hit “submit”, and then slunk back in her chair for a very quick nap.


Five hours after Julie posted her ad, she awoke still sitting at her computer. There was a paperclip stuck to her forehead and a swollen mailbox brightly signifying mail. Oh my God, she muttered. She picked the paperclip off her forehead and slowly dragged the cursor over the screen. 

114 messages.

Then Julie saw what she had done. “Young Treasure Seeks Seaman on Love’s Sea” became, with the help of her computer’s thesaurus and a fourth glass of merlot: “Easy Lady Requests Guy with Two Socks.”

Worse than that, she’d posted the ad not as a written personal…but as a video.