Love Bugs

Some parts are edible.

Selections from the London Review of Books classifieds for March 12, 2009.

Loving stick-insect sought for LTR by serious-minded, mid-60s Lefty man with a big laugh.

Has your life been ruined by therapy? Are you stuck in interpretive regress? Me too. Now looking for M, 40s, to live an unexamined life.

Ethereal Guinevere seeks sensitive, deep-thinking, musical, loyal Lancelot with a social conscience and a love of nature and walking in wild places for magical encounters — 45-60. No opportunists, social-networking addicts or commitment phobics need reply.

LRB-reading woman (35) would like to get replies from people who don’t use the contributor photo for that shitty piece they got published as their Facebook profile picture.

Fanciable sylph, 52, seeks diversion.

Rather beautiful 34-year-old hysteric seeks man who has written more books than her analyst. Her own attempts have stalled at page 96.

Celebrate National Nurses Week with me! Man, 82.

I subvert all the expectations built up in this column like a goat in space subverts gravy. Space-goat-esque gravy-subverting pervert (M, 51).


I read the NYROB personal ads first.

English romance.

Soggy chips on the esplanade at half-past four on a wet afternoon in May. Then down to the beach to trudge about the pebbles as the tide goes out.

And is there honey still for tea?

@Benedick: Reminds me of one of my favorite scenes from Hard Day’s Night. Ringo was hungover when they shot this.

I dunno, I think a tryst with a fanciable slyph, 52, would be kinda delightful if I were in her age range and inclined that way.

How can I forget those late-summer days in Skegness we stole together? How your lips turned blue from cold as we waited for that one clear patch of sky to shower us with sunshine? The chattering of our teeth echoed the beating of our hearts and your thighs were like blancmange under your raincoat as we passed the floral clock while freezing Sikhs whizzed by in taxis.

Now all that’s left me is the memory of your kiss and your ad in the LROB signed Esmarelda.


Surely a “slyph” is a slut of a sylph,
Sure as “soot” after sweeping is “toos”,
Or the sleeve of a sluice can combine to make sluve,
and the sound when a cat flees is “mewve”.

If we dun ourselves in to the spelling of words,
or dole them out only by what they might mean,
We miss out on some funderful combomakeshuns,
And our use of the language is lean.

So celebretype words of the neolodge sort!
And forgive me my lapses in art,
and if my lackodaise use of orthograpy hurts,
I apolomake stryght from my heart.


That was a practically perfect response in every way, darling.


Thanks. I should write doggerel more often, it is very liberating.

@Tommmcatt the Wet Sprocket: Absolutely brilliant. Will be citing this in a biblio-post shortly. Made my day…

where’s our new game? send it to my inbox. i want redemption!
it was a great game, neck and neck til you pulled that bingo the last second. let’s go, you’re on for round 2…..

tommycatt, her scrabble card is full, but if she kicks my ass like the last game, you may have her.

how’s the puppehcatt jr.? and as mark twain has said, “never cared much for a man who could spell a word only one way”.

@baked: Game is on, girlfriend. Check your inbox.


He is a genius and perfect, but that pretty much goes without saying for all puppehs. I am teaching him to sit on his hind legs (“sit pretty” is the command) and he is so funny…he knows what I want but lacks the strength to hold the position. So he sits up, then falls over on his side, to much laughter. He also has a TON of energy, more than I thought possible, and loves to get all wound up and race around the house bumping into things and knocking them over.

He’s piddling in the right place already, but we’re having trouble with the pooping…he thinks he can hide it by doing it under the bed. So, zero-sum game on THAT front.

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