Though I find your lifestyle choice admirable (and the wine, always the wine- who said that wine can’t keep you warm at night!) I have come the conclusion that your current relationship status is due to a lack of opportunity. Therefore I have taken it upon myself to scan through a few singles ads. They are all so promising; I think that you will want to date (if not marry) all of them:
Romance is dead. So is my mother. Man, 42, inherited wealth.
Save it. Anything you’ve got to say can be said to my lawyer. But if you’re not my ex wife, why not write to box 5377? I enjoy vodka, canasta, evenings in and cold, cold revenge.
‘Too much sex, not enough vitamin B12.’ Vegan love-god on the brink of mental and physical collapse (M,26) seeks pallid, calcium deficient F for nights of apathy, depression and headaches whilst touring the moral high ground. It’s all faux fur, acrylics and rehydrated soya at box no 7633.
Employed in publishing? Me too. Stay the hell away. Man on the inside seeks woman on the outside who likes milling around hospitals guessing the illnesses of out-patients. 30-35.
The average person contains enough iron in their body to make a small nail. Not me, I’ve got about a tent peg’s worth. Man, 57, enjoys licking railings. Box no. 3352
I wrote this ad to prove I'm not gay. Man, 29. Not gay. Absolutely not.
The eyes said "take me, I'm yours": the thighs said "pre-operative; and it's a long waiting list." Why doth thou mock me, oh ye Gods? M, 42.
Pick one (two at the most) and I shall make it my mission to hunt them down. Your single days are over lady!
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