Last weekend (10/15), I was auctioned off for a date to benefit breast cancer awareness. Mr. T bid on me, but he stopped bidding at a fairly low amount (fewer than $40). Someone else had the good fortune of winning me. After the auction, I ran into Mr. T towards the back of the bar. I told him he should have bid more. He explained that he was there with a friend who was also being auctioned off and he had to conserve his funds in the event that she didn’t hit her desired reserve price. I couldn’t be bothered with this explanation. So, I paraded away.
The following day, I posted two pictures from the auction on the facebook wall of the guy who was running the event. Shortly thereafter, I received a random friend request. I had a sense it was from someone who saw those wall posts. My sense was correct. The request was accompanied by a message that read, “You’re right. I should have bid more.” I didn’t respond. Everyday, I am the recipient of unwanted male attention. If I responded to every piece of communication from every dude trying to get at me, I’d hardly have time to perform basic life functions like breathing. Ok, perhaps that’s a slight exaggeration, the operative word being slight.
Anyway, a few days later, Mr. T “liked” my blog fan page, which you should all do if you haven’t already (https://www.facebook.com/princess.momo.blog or just click on the “like” button to the left on www.princessmomo.com). This was a good move on his part because it got my attention and pleased me. I extended the courtesy of thanking him for the “like.” He didn’t respond, which was no skin off my ass because I wasn’t interested yet.
Later that week, though, he facebook inboxed me a captivating message that demonstrated he had done his research on MoMo. The message exchange is below.
Mr. T: Good afternoon Your Majesty,
The purpose of my outreach is twofold. First I hope to continue the very brief conversation from our first meeting. (I use conversation loosely to represent you walking by while heckling my “stupid”-ity) You may recall the occasion. I was the chap who disappointed you (allow me this inference based on the heckling) by failing to win your hand in contest.
It would be inadequate to say you caught my eye. (If not my wallet.) While humbly appreciative to have participated in the charity event, (saving boobs is a win-win) I am as pleased to be free of the encumbrance of limiting my bidding to non-royalty. So we shall call this my “bid for attention”.
In lieu of having some kind of online dating profile (I think it is kind of you to mix with the peasantry in such venues. Truly you are a ruler for the people.) I’ve submitted my vital statistics below.
Having made clear my primary purpose (of getting in your pants) I beg another moment of your time………
Please allow this specimen a whimsical stab at potential opportunity.
There shall be tomorrow an annual event held for the ballyhoo of the masses. (Ballyhoo = 1/2 pompous posturing & 1/2 shitfaced debauchery, respectfully) This event is called “The Hunt” and it takes place in the shire of Far Hills, NJ. If your schedule finds you gracing these festive grounds it would be an honor to pay my respects. (Give you some booze and chat you up.)
I’ll provide device coordinates if perchance you are planning to attend. (and able to evade the throngs to steal away for a moment)
In closing, here are the vitals:
6’5″ (our kids might get scholarships)
200lbs (being slim does not make me “anti-capitalism”)
Work in law firm marketing (hey there, counselor)
Love football and yelling at my TV (often mutually exclusive)
I know plaid and flannel are not the same thing (factor in golf)
Great at changing tires (just in case)
Can dunk a basketball (just in case)
I smell great when I perspire (just in case)
Princess MoMo: This message is too long. I read the first paragraph. I’ll read the rest later or send me cliff notes.
Princess MoMo: Actually, I read a little further and was amused. So, I’ll read it all now.
Mr. T: Later is fine. It’s primarily royalty jokes and asking if you might be at the Hunt tomorrow.
Princess MoMo: I don’t know about tomorrow and I’m trying to get this fucking document out of the door. If you text me your number, I will call you on my leisurely drive home. 908REDACTED
He text messaged me his digits and I indeed called him on my drive home. He explained more about “The Hunt,” which I somehow get invited to every year, but I never go because it relates to horses and I’m not interested in horses. They’re not generally edible in the US, I don’t find them particularly cute, they smell and equestrianism doesn’t appeal to me. I expressed my disinterest in any horse-related activities. He later texted me, “If not the hunt & car is in the shop…are you free tomorrow?” (I think the “car is in the shop” reference alluded to Mr. Car.) I told him to call me the next day.
TO BE CONTINUED…
Your “likes” and comments are encouraged and appreciated. Thanks.