Craigslist: The Wrong Man I hope this one doesn’t warrant being flagged for removal. I like it. Here’s the actual link for it. Share this:Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window)Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window)Click to share on Tumblr (Opens in new window)Click to share on Pinterest (Opens in new window) Related 6 thoughts on “Craigslist: The Wrong Man” Add yours LOL… Eugene? He’s not this guy, is he? Reply Oh my… that video was torture. :) No, not Eugene the guy, but Eugene the city. Funny you make this joke, because one of my friends went to college in Eugene, and would go back home during the holidays, and then would message me when the trip was over, “I’m back in Eugene!” and I would crack a number of lewd, gay jokes. It was fun. Reply I think you’ve captured the male mind very well. All my life I’ve seen average looking guys with gorgeous women and thought, How the hell did that happen? The envy, my God. But eventually you find out that things happen for a reason. Maybe the first victim is having a ball, who knows? And you would have been miserable. Nice one! Reply I agree. Things do happen for a reason. Thank you! I’m always happy you enjoy something I write. I always wonder at couples that seem dissimilar, but how can we know the chemistry that lies behind such a pairing. A couple of girls in school wanted to meet me right away after they found out I’d become the girlfriend of a prized target. To disapprove, of course. Even though I was a perfectly cute girl. And guys do the same thing. We all do. :D The first victim died of an unrelated, preexisting condition. More on that later. Reply That poor guy. I know exactly what he’s going through. Even outside of the giantess fantasy, I’ve seen the most wonderful women throw themselves at, and waste themselves upon, truly undeserving fuckwits. P.G. Wodehouse believed women did this because they relished the frustration they caused in other men, even as they were unsatisfied with their pathetic and inadequate relationship. Mark Twain said they behaved so “for the pure cussedness of it.” So no, I think she saw that one guy, brimming with desire and transmitting subtle nonverbals (the way he ducks his head when he talks to pretty women, the overt show he makes of dodging out of their way when they walk by) and she decided to teach him a lesson. What lesson? Yes, she will be left with a tiny man who leaves a tiny brown streak in her palm as he panics to death. Yes, she will have to obtain more serum and wait for her desire to override her caution. All this time, she could’ve been loving, and being loved by, a little man who fit into her on every level (spiritual, mental, physical, emotional, chemical, &c.) and would happily have given his life to her. And not a life that only lasted ten minutes, either. But she had to teach him a lesson, and when the police catch her for repeated assaults and kidnappings, duly recorded on CCTV, she’ll have plenty of time to languish in an empty cell with no syringes and no consenting partners to come up with what the hell that lesson was supposed to be. Reply Hey now. Hold it right there, mister. There is no gender difference when it comes down to people throwing themselves at fuckwits. My best friend, a perfectly brilliant woman who can absorb knowledge like a sponge simply by being near it, decided to become emotionally attached to the worst case of fuckwitdom I’ve ever witnessed, save the Fuckwit in Chief. I kept hoping it would be over soon, and it lasted quite some time, before it inevitably imploded. In the meantime… well, I had to witness it. But Wodehouse’s opinion is another demonstration of fuckwitness, when it isolates one gender into an exclusivity of behavior that applies to any. And to imagine one can divine the reasons behind such choices, and reduce them to such microscopic, hateful, mysogynistic dribble… sighs. No. Attaching oneself to a person that will never return the gift that is our heart is not exclusive to women; and attaching oneself to a person that will not only never return the gift, but treat it like garbage is also not exclusive to women. But. That is not the case here. The woman is not an idiot. She doesn’t just shrink anyone. The guy she targeted was terminally ill, and she knew that. What better way to spend the rest of your days but in the care of a gentle woman that will make that transition easier on you, and care for you during your final days, and maybe give you a choice in the way you want to say goodbye? And only for the small price of being a trial run for a sketchy formula that has not yet been fully tested long enough? In humans? So yeah, she shrinks the “wrong man”, but a few days later she will read the ad, and return to that same blind spot (c’mon… do you actually think she didn’t check for cameras?), and meet the right guy, and shrink him as she faces him with a smile, and take him home, and rename him toy. But say she doesn’t… say everything happens the way you described it. One day she finds herself waking up to a pinprick to her neck, effected by a tiny man that only measures a few inches in height. He explains then that she’s about to shrink like him. What? That’s right, baby cakes, I’m breaking you out of here! But I don’t even know you! Why are you doing this for me? What? I don’t know you but you know me? That makes no sense! What? The effect is only temporary! OK, let’s go! What? With the only condition that I keep you forever once we’re on the run for the rest of our lives? Well… gosh, of course! That is why I’m here in the first place! Because shrinking and keeping a man is my dream in life. And they live happily ever after. Reply Leave a Reply to Jean D'eau Cancel reply Enter your comment here... Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Email (Address never made public) Name Website You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. ( Log Out / Change ) You are commenting using your Google account. ( Log Out / Change ) You are commenting using your Twitter account. ( Log Out / Change ) You are commenting using your Facebook account. ( Log Out / Change ) Cancel Connecting to %s Notify me of new comments via email. Notify me of new posts via email. This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.