I recently read where teenagers have a secret code wherein they can communicate about sex, “sexting,” without parents being the wiser. The article purported to have decoded the code, meaning teens will have to evolve.
But this gave me an idea. I am nothing if not experimental. Maybe I could attract a woman, using the very same code. What could go wrong? So, I posted the following message:
To Whom It May Concern: I am NIFOC while I write you this note. IWSRN – please! So LMIRL, GYPO, and I’ll CU46 today! MY ASL: 50-ish, M, Godfrey. I’ll be serving PRON and DOC. Call me “GHC.”
I posted the message over the weekend, and the responses came pouring in: “Hi, GHC. I’m coming to St. Louis to gather alternative facts, and will have some free time. 50-ish, F, D.C. The stress of my job makes me needy. I could use some PRON, you devil’s spawn FOH, so GYPO and I’ll GMPO, pronto. WH! Call me ‘KAC.’”
“Yo, GHC! Call me anything, just don’t call me late for dinner! (TEBGTPC), 70-ish, few extra lbs., F. NH. CU46? PAL. They’re dead! MFNI69, lover boy. PMU? CTTBD.”
Translation: To Whom It May Concern: I am naked in front of my computer while I write you this note. I want sex right now – please! Get your pants off, and I’ll see you for sex today! My age-sex-location: 50-ish, Male, Godfrey. I’ll be serving porn and my drug of choice, red wine. Call me Genehouse Chronicles.
“Hi, GHC. I’m coming to St. Louis to gather alternative facts, and will have some free time. 50-ish, female, Washington D.C. The stress of my job makes me needy. I could use some porn, you devil’s spawn friend of Hillary, so get your pants off and I’ll get my pants off pronto. Woohoo! Call me Kellyanne C.”
“Yo, GHC! Call me anything, just don’t call me late for dinner! (The early bird gets the pork chop), 80-ish, female, nursing home. See you for sex? Don’t worry – parents ain’t listening. They’re dead! My favorite number is 69, lover boy. Pick me up? Come through the back door.”
Relax, reader, I have come to my senses. I know, I’m not 50-ish. I’m not even 60-ish. I don’t sit naked in front of my computer anymore. A friend told me that President Trump can see me though my camera – ewww. It’s just that, I have reached the age where Sarah Palin and Kellyanne seem babe-ish – so long as they don’t talk. And “She’s got Michele Bachman eyes.”
Go ahead, feminists, let me have it. I’ve read Simone Debeauvoir and Angela Davis and Miley Cyrus. Beat me up, handcuff me, whip me, spank me – I deserve it.
Please.
Oh, and remember: Come through the back door.
