Well, I took the plunge. I mean, sure all these women love me. They can't help themselves. I understand. But they're all in exotic places like Zimbabwe or New Jersey or Denmark. And I finally had to ask myself -- taking a verbatim tip from ex-date Anomalie Aesculapius -- "What's in it for me?" It was then that I realized my mistake. All this time, my hostile, domineering superego introject has been generating internal dialogue along the lines of: "Take yourself in hand, son!" and "Different strokes for different folks!" and "Get a grip on yourself!" I now see that I was taking this advice a little to literally. If I got a grip on myself one more time, I was going to go crazy (that is, inasmuch as there would be any real travel involved). What I needed was someone else to take me in hand and get a grip on me! What I needed, DUH!, was a real-live non-virtual non-cyberspatial hot-to-trot woman. So, on the recommendation of two women who've reported good results -- i.e., both are now getting laid on a regular basis -- I decided to hook up with Yahoo Personals. Not sure if you can see my profile there without signing up, so I've dropped the main bits in below, first describing myself, then specifying what I'm looking for in a potential lover.

third-rate romance, low-rent rendezvous

ME: I've never really done this kind of thing before. Have you? <g> But actually, I haven't. I'm a published writer, a prolific blogger, bit of a maniac, really, very funny (ask anyone) and wicked smart. but despite appearances, quite loving. unless you mess up, that is. then you will have to be disciplined, yes. I enjoy smoking and sub-zero air conditioning, checking my mailbox, and reading about severe personality disorders. I abhor exercise, nature and anything organic. you like hiking? well take one now. on the other hand, I am quite fond of sex. you know: passionate scorpio borderline seeks darkly vibrant satanica pandemonium for quiet dinners and late-nite boating accidents sorta thing. incredibly, I've been clean and sober (as they say) for nearly 20 years. before that, take a wild guess. if you have read this far and not laughed, you need professional help. do I SOUND like a professional? also, I don't get along real good with tauruses (references on request). and look, it's not my fault I live in Boulder. well, actually, as I am coming to Take Responsibility for My Own Behavior, yes, it is my fault. what's not my fault is Boulder. if you live here too and feel like an alien at a halloween party, we should compare notes. if you are fortunate enough to live elsewhere than the fabled oz, we can compare notes anyway. or dot dot dot.

SHE: you enjoy sunsets, small furry animals, and serious automotive mishaps. you are deeply spiritual, and especially into aromatherapy and shamanic etymology. you love the dalai lama as if he were your own dad. you love eminem as if he weren't. you have never read The Verbally Abusive Relationship, nor do you plan to (very important). your idea of a good time is watching Repo Man or From Dusk Till Dawn while doing Tai Chi, the NY Times Sunday crossword, and Charlie Chan impressions. in other words, you are versatile. you have a good sense of humor, but not better than mine. you find controlling, needy men attractive, but you are working on your issues. you are poised, self-confident and look really hot in a one-piece bikini. you have multiple PhDs in nuclear physics, semiotics, and animal husbandry. you are cool under pressure. you like yo-yo ma and zz top, not necessarily in that order. you wonder about the meaning of life. you wonder if this is really all there is. you are ready to rock.

ANALYSIS: So far, I'm not getting what you'd call inundated with offers. But it's only been up for a day. And the way I figure it, even if I don't meet a woman with all these fine qualities -- that is to say, the woman of my dreams -- at least it's good therapy. Because where else do you get to brag about yourself non-stop with interesting looking (and, some, actually interesting) babes? Why has it taken me so long to realize that this is the true future of blogging, where it recedes once again out of the vulgar public sphere and returns once again to where it always belonged: sweet one-on-one pillow-talk lies, snuggled down deep and comfy between creamy satin sheets.