From the 1985 personals of the On Our Backs magazine
  as seen on instagram @h_e_r_s_t_o_r_y
(more ads under tag #onourbackspersonalads)

I must confess that I was not into the OOB mag when it first came out, a zillion years ago. Just never been into so-called "visual explicit erotica." I prefer the natural narrative that literary sex unveils by way of expectation. But in RETROspect, OOB now seems pretty bombastically funny, and the other day, when I saw this clip of an ad from the personal pages of that raunchy lesbopublication from the 80s... I laughed, a lot. Esto no tiene desperdicio, alabadus. It is a must share, I said. So I did. 

I sent it via text to my friend, el americano, and he had a virtual laughing fit: LOLx100 appeared on the screen. Then he texted back: "If you won't answer her, I will... with detailed line drawings of various of your toys, or better yet, I'll send her that old ad you once placed in the WCT, remember?" Well, not really but... zap, it all came back... I was a fast moving target then with a PO Box (that is what they were good for, illicit sex messages and dirty magazines), so out of a dare I placed such ad in Chicago in early 1990, I think, right after returning from NYC via a few long months in Miami, where I had also practiced my ad writing skills, having already posted a couple of ads in some Miami rag of the era. Ah, the murky memories...  SIGUE

I was spending time en-la-tierra-de-nadie fixing up an apartment bought on impulse, thinking --not really, but I prefer to believe that at least I considered it-- of perhaps staying. I didn't know many people there and all previous Miamian friends-with-benefits where "otherwise engaged." I needed to be social, which meant sexual, so I opted for the then experimental personal ad route. I enjoyed reading them... thought they were funny and somewhat dangerous on the gay men rags. I always laughed at the directness of the ads between men, while hating the ridiculous emphasis on romantic scenery and discriminatory physical perfection demanded in most of the women ads. I especially enjoyed the creativity that some people used in their language when trying to be coy and sexual without being too offensive. Hey, I'm a writer, the printed word --when well done-- is pure liquid-slushy-love to my eyes. 

Got nothing to lose, I decided, so my first Miami ad was simple, but too enigmatic: "Looking for...." I guess only I knew what I meant so I had no responses. I figured I'd have to embellish. The second one was more to the point ("Looking to meet women with high sexual energy") and it received about a dozen responses. However, it was a let down, for most of the women who answered had horrible... diction! Cadence, tone and rhythm are very important in these sexual fantasies of mine. Nothing like a well-pronounced seduction in bilingualism. Out of boredom, I decided to meet-up with a couple of the less eardrum-offensive women. Blah, blah, blah. Nothing worse than that horrible Miami LatinCuban Spanglish accent in bed, pordió, where the common error was being vulgar without being elegant, being sexual without being curious, being there but in a hurry to get to... Dadeland. 

So, back in Chicago, my ad was the result of a dare with another friend, who was convinced only "desperate" people did it. I thought not, I told her, explaining my previous ads. She was surprised I had done it, but then again, she didn't know much of what I did in my solitary hours. In spite of my failure in Miami, I still liked reading the ads on the lesbogay rags, and even in some hetero ones. I read them every week, on Thursdays in the ChgoReader, on Sundays the Windy City Times, GayChicago, etc. So when I wrote mine, prompted by the bet with my friend --which rules were that I had to get more than two responses and the dare was that I would have to go out with one of the two-- my ad was full of bravado. It said something like:

"Exotic-on-demand Cuban; early 30s. I hate sunset walks on the beach and I detest candlelit dinners, but I like to fuck. Box X." 

The ad had about 10 responses, so I won the bet. My surprised friend helped me sort through the responses, which were a mix of written and telephone messages.
I, of course, decided to select one from the written messages, disliking all the forced attempts to sound sexy from the phone messages, the fake giggles, etc. I picked an Indian woman because her writing was clean, concise ("Late 20s grad student; Indian ancestry"), and she closed with "I like to fuck too." Hey, perfect target, and since for me it was all about breaking molds and leaving safety zones, an even more exotic babe than me (!) appealed tremendously. She was nice to look at: black hair, long-lashed black eyes and the body scent of her skin was a disturbing mix of spices. It was a fun revolcón with a nice intellectual backdrop, but in RETROspect, I think I liked to fuck way more than she did. She was young, with student angst... been there, done that. After a few months we departed amicably, drinking chai in bed before it became the rage. I saw her again many years later, on Devon street, Chgo's Indian-restaurant-row. I said hello. She was at first hesitant, but then, recognizing me, she kissed me warmly in greeting. Up close, she whispered (she was with someone, as so was I) that she had "fond" memories of me, and smiled softly. So, that was the end of my youthful ad-writing dating efforts. However, shortly after, my friend asked me to write ads for her, which I did, of course. Never say never...

Miren qué cosa saca otra, en esta cadena del vivir... y ya, ríanse, estimadas troll-voyeurs... y aprovechen la privacidad de los modernos emails y escríbanme... o mejor, mándenme caSSeTTes!! (that alone such a time-travel-bender!) But please, be elaborate but not vulgar-for-the-sake of... Y tengan calma... paciencia, que las voy a atender una a una, con discreción y empatía, como debe ser. No me hagan motín, que las orgías no son lo mío, y mucho menos las virtuales... 

LOLita (soft childish provocative laughter)   


Anonymous said...

Crazy como le has metido a todo jj

sonora y matancera said...

o por lo menos he tratado, para que no me hagan cuentos... saludos, andas perdida.