My attempts to find a suitable lover in this column would have been far more successful but for the bureaucratic pettifoggery of the LRB advertising department, the dilatory shenanigans of the British postal service, and the rambunctiousness of my gall bladder. Foppish dandy and laparoscopy enthusiast (M, 56) WLTM matronly fems to 60 with own stamps and collection of surgical dressings. Leighton Buzzard.
box no. 10/01
If you can, and do, talk for hours and hours about your love of elderflower kombucha, refuse to eat anything containing wheat, endlessly refer to your travels to India at dinner parties, correct other people’s pronunciation at every opportunity and insist on naming your children (all four of them, born in rapid succession) after members of the Bloomsbury Set, are 46, cold and sexually hostile, you’re either my PhD supervisor or my ex-wife. Good day to you both. The rest of you can try saying something nice to:
box no. 19/02
M, 36, would like to see more reviews in this magazine centered around the ‘gay cowboy’ genre.
box no. 19/03
Compliant and trusting man, 43, WLTM F to 45 who doesn’t insist on using the chemical names for obscure proteins as the safety word. Stoke-on-Trent.
box no. 19/04
A graveyard in the dead of night. A spade. A curse. Then we turn the sods. Just a sneak peak into some of my dating habits, but we could start with dinner and a movie (something from the Dario Argento canon perhaps?) Ghoulish M, 57.
box no. 19/06
As a frequent attendee at LRB Bookshop events, I spend most of my time wrestling with my own internal monologue jokes and summoning up the courage to articulate these before an audience. Naturally, by the time my anxieties have subsided, the shop has emptied and I’m once again alone. My sexual experiences mirror this. Let’s hang out! M, 43.
box no. 19/07
Sulky M, 68, seeks acquiescent wife or punctual urologist. Preferably one in the same. No perverts/slackers.
box no. 19/08
Literary lads of the LRB! Know a girl who keeps in touch with all of her ex’s? Says she gets along with men better than women? Laughs about keeping up with their drinking? Recommends white beer with salmon rather than pinot noir? Well forget about her, she’s a manipulative, cackling lush who’s hated by female colleagues and the morose clutch of resigned eunuchs orbiting her Hoegaarden. Instead, date me. Post ironic, post feminist who enjoys informed conversation, gender theory and ranking the ladette phenomenon alongside the Britisches Freikorps in retrospectives of the 20th century.
box no. 19/09
Ever been the only person in the room to take a fancy dress invite seriously? Answer me this; was it worse than attending the IAEA Christmas Party as Dr Manhattan? Failed Dr Manhattan impresario. M. 64.
box no. 19/10
This zombie-in-contrary-context, trend will halt. After which my Cavaliers-in-Space vehicle will literally, literally take off.
box no. 19/11
Satyr 55, seeks warm, abandoned, wanton hussy 45-60 for ravishing moments at,
email: ravishedag✧✧✧@l✧✧✧.c✧.u✧
THE BEST IS YET TO BE! Delightful Devonshire Lady of substance and charm. Refreshingly curious mind, adventurous spirit, gentle outlook, with a real passion for life. Attractive, very youthful and active. Adores travel, bridge, film, music from Jazz to opera, eating out and cooking. Seeks an equally affluent, well presented, refined educated male between 75-85, fit, active,N/s, perhaps retired military officer, to join her on a journey of love and laughter. Devon/Dorset/Somerset/Wiltshire/Cornwall/Gloucester replies please. Initially, please contact: Jill Rhodes Harvey j✧✧@rh-introducti✧✧✧.c✧.u✧ or 0845 226 3189 Rhodes-Harvey Introductions. NO fee is required to meet this lovely lady.
Jungian Analytical Psychotherapy, Birmingham. Trainee offering reduced rates to thrice weekly training patient. Telephone Peter Chidwick MBACP (Snr. Accred.)
tel: 07930220876
Like every pícaro, I’ve suffered the degradations of an apparently infinite exile with resilience, but sometimes I wonder if this bathroom will ever be fully tiled. Rugged bachelor with roughish charm (think Rico Dredd on a penal colony made from grout) seeks literary fangirl to 34.
box no. 18/01
In 2004 I was a love machine…now I’m just an affectionate blender. Whirrr.
box no. 18/02
LRB geeks! Stop attempting the reappraisal of your literary hero’s sporting achievement. They were all shit at sport, just like you were. You might as well speculate on the blank verse of Chung Li or the prolific correspondence of Goru, four armed demi-God of the Netherrealm. Reconciled reader of Hemingway raised on the New Journalism and Megadrive, seeks brainy but useless former Goal Attack gal who wanted to be Cammy (I’m more of a Blanka myself though).
box no. 18/03
Do you remember where you were January 20th 2009? Or August 13th for that matter? Angry UPS guy.
box no. 18/04
In the dive bar of the forsaken, I am a workhorse whiskey and every woman I’ve ever fallen in love with has been a surprise Britvic mini. After 8 years of being downed with cheap lager we were briefly united, but alas, you’d settled. It brings tear to my eye and puts a lump in my throat. Also 3 shots of tequila, a slice of lemon, half a cruet set and a long bitter tirade involving endless misquoting of the Whitsun Weddings addressed to a skipping juke box over which I stand sentinel. Two third empty, half cut literary barfly (M. 72) seeks a better bottling up rota from Love’s bartenders. No gingers or bitter lemons.
box no. 18/05
Possession is nine tenths of the law. Unless it’s possession of an A class drug, in which case it’s up to seven years, or an unlimited fine, or both. I’ll be out in 18 months though, probably, until then why not write to M.31 better at optimism than he is at transporting the Persians.
box no. 18/06
Dear Academic Commissioning Editor. There is no greater exposition of Guy Debord’s commodity cycle than the advertising campaign for Magner’s Irish Cider. Please publish my thesis. Or make love to me; former Whitbread employee and part time Birkbeck PhD. M. 37.
box no. 18/07
This is not a love song. Well, maybe it is. F, mid 50s, interested and interesting, disposed to happiness, not adverse to adventure, seeks similar (F).
email: thisisnotaloves✧✧✧@hotm✧✧✧.c✧.u✧
Gorgeous nordic blonde seeks well-read eco-warrior 45-60.
email: wayland✧✧✧@hotm✧✧✧.c✧✧
Mm, anno MCMLXVI. Former Tito-jugend. Technical craftsman with short att.span. Tall, non ambitious. Affection for languages, astrology. Sátántangó, grappa. Is hunting. The one and only fF 40-55. Pale, wide-eyed. Sensitive, extremely intelligent. To take her. For semi-nomadic life around EU. For intense long-term exchange of mind, heart and body fluids.
email: peterwww✧✧✧@gm✧✧✧.c✧✧
Shakespeare's sister, 36, seeks a charming man with passions just like mine for potential hand in glove relationship.
email: sheilatakeabow2✧✧✧@l✧✧✧.c✧.u✧
Writer with canoe, 50s, seeks woman with sense of humour (46-56) for walks, talks & weekends by the sea. Oxford.
email: writerwithca✧✧✧@gm✧✧✧.c✧✧
Woman, 40s, seeks classical music concert companion. She
has a particular love for the voice.
box no. 17/01
Without my grandfather’s contribution to agricultural reforms in 1912, this nation would currently have to import its turnips. While you think about that I shall remove my clothes. Man. 55.
box no. 16/02
I have a dream. And that dream is to try on every pair of shoes in the world. That’s where you come in: brusque, butch fem cobbler to 55 with expansive collection of animal skins and a strap-on. Man, 76.
box no. 16/03
I have no idea if my advert will attract a mate, but I’m very drunk and don’t especially care at this moment. Woman, 43. Aylesbury.
box no. 16/04
I cast a magic spell on you. And now you are reading this advert in a literary magazine that exists only in your mind. Soon you will fall in love with me. When we meet, the odour will not concern you. Mr Mesmer: amateur hypnotist, professional shrimp-farmer (M, 51). Also available for weddings and birthdays.
box no. 16/05
This advert is my biggest undertaking since breakfast. M, 36.
box no. 16/07
The sweet smell of apples in the orchard carried on the warm, gentle breeze. A hushed moan, the curtains swish softly. Slowly my breasts come into focus. The goat bleats. The shackles tighten. And then the chanting starts again. Scary woman, 52, looking for a very specific type of ‘perfect Sunday’.
box no. 16/08
LRB-reading women to 45! I flex my muscles and this advert results.
box no. 16/09
I rule the reader comments section on my blog with an iron fist. In the bedroom I allow my sensitive nature to come out. Between these two versions of the same reality, you will find perfection manifested in the form of a 46-year old gay male podiatrist and freelance juggler.
box no. 16/10
I dream of the day when I can make love to you all (red-haired women to 25) with reckless abandon. Man, 72.
box no. 16/11
Hit jump, punch, block, jump, forward, punch, kick to activate my flaming ninja fists of doom. Dork, 34 (M), really hoping to find a nice woman for whom ‘enjoying the latest Mark Greif piece in the LRB’ is a valid (and attractive) Street Fighter character ability. Failing that, any of you will do. Also looking for a flat to rent in Wimbledon.
box no. 16/12
According to the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator, I’m a perspective-altering sex-conundrum. Librarian (man, 48) WLTM similar.
box no. 16/14
Man, 56. Impervious to the effects of pepper spray, as discovered at a recent London Review Bookshop subscriber evening. In my own dimension, this is not unusual, but here it pretty much makes me a super hero. WLTM easily impressed, unarmed woman of any age and any camber.
box no. 16/15
I flow like a harpoon daily and nightly. What does that mean? If the readings on my ambulatory blood pressure monitor are correct – and I think they are – it means I’m currently not allowed solids but I am allowed cuddles. Tactile man and lecturer in cultural studies, 52, patiently waiting for the hearing to return in his right ear. So much love to go around at
box no. 16/13
One day I will start the first LRB-reading group on the moon. Its members will drink special coffee and listen to NPR. Until then I will continue to cover my fists with mayonnaise and lick it all off while wishing I’d been born a Reptilian Love King rather than having to take these stupid pills every damn day.
box no. 16/16
This advert is exactly what happens when you ignore the label’s warning and actually do ingest the Listerine. Idiot man, 38.
box no. 16/17
Your response to this ad should be sent in a standard envelope with first class postage. If you’re posting with my luck, imagination and via my mendacious postal wallah however, it is required that you stamp and post your response after first ensuring that it is properly wrapped in accordance with guidelines, weighs above 13oz but not more than 5lbs, gives a rendition of Pruit Igoe & Prophecies when lightly rattled but a baritone performance of Largo al factotum when vigorously shaken. The package must stem the glacial retreat in the Bhutan Himalaya, weigh 16lbs for expedited delivery but not surpass the dimensions of a book of matches. Your parcel will be filled with dark matter. It must ignite on command, fit through the eye of a needle on which no less than 14 angels dance upon the head of, kinetically agitate the other parcels, come via Basel, be stamped with the Seal of the Danish Court, generate long term growth following online initiatives in the fourth quarter, enjoy positive word-of-mouth, post updates every hour and be fully downloadable. Your parcel is a ship that will never dock and I am the lighthouse that never goes out. Slightly over wrought researcher and Alan Moore fan will buy you dinner once the check arrives in the post. Manhattan.
box no. 16/18
Slim, good looking, literary blonde, slightly higher maintenance (37) seeks affable and well educated man, 30 – 40, for irrelevant witty emails before possible meeting. Unless you miss an email that is. I like them twice daily, one at 9.30am and a second at 4pm. Both must make me laugh out loud for hours. Neither must compromise wit, depth, literary allusion or flattering remarks at any point, even if you’re involved in a complex task for a difficult job at a time of precarious employment during a terrifying recession.
box no. 16/19
This personal ad is the digitally re-mastered version of my 2001 appearance in this column. Featuring; improved soundtrack, fewer fuzzy marks round my outline, never before realised potential and the addition of a massive, ill tempered Bantha where previously my (now ex) wife starred. Marvel as our hero triumphs against the venal and ruthless imperial empire while the grumpy Bantha disparages his endearing forgiveness of Episode I’s crimes of exuberance. Gasp as the moody Bantha throws a huff and then applaud as she joins a herd of like minded Bantha’s and takes her goddamn Serenity Director’s Cut with her.
box no. 16/20
― l'homme moderne: il forniquait et lisait des journaux (Michael White), Friday, 2 October 2009 18:10 (fifteen years ago)