The 19th Century Called. It Misses You.

E-mail Submitted by Nate:

Thanks for looking at my profile.  I read yours and liked what you had to say.  When we go out here is what I imagine:

You pick me up in your washed, waxed, clean car.  You hold the door for me.  You crack a joke and instantly I feel at ease.  You drive us to a great restaurant that's packed, but you made reservations so we're in.

At dinner, we regale each other with stories from our pasts and the wine lubricates conversation as we slip into our respective comfort zones.  It's okay.  We have all night.

You take me to a hot nightclub to dance the night away and at one point you take your jacket off to really impress me with your moves.  You take me by the hands and we spin and laugh and dance together so that time flows by like a river.

It's cold out, so you give me your jacket to wear.  We go back into your car, flushed and exhausted, you drive me home, walk me up to my door, and I give you the softest of parting kisses.

All of this can happen if you just reply.

In anticipation,


  1. On the title...What are you, kidding? In the 19th century he would've had to regale her father with stories from his past.

  2. This comment has been removed by the author.

  3. Um...she doesn't need him. She clearly lives a very interesting fantasy life. No one is ever going to match up to her romance-novel-cover dream.

  4. Way to plan on being spontaneous.

  5. Jared, your titles make these stories awesome, seriously. Also? Don't even think about picking me up unless your car is washed, waxed, and clean. Really??

  6. "You hold the door for me. You crack a joke and instantly I feel at ease."

    "What's the best thing about sex with twenty six year olds?"


    "There's twenty of them! HAW"

  7. No here's how the next 60 years are going to go...

  8. if she knew it was going to be cold she should have planned to bring her own jacket.


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