Rear Admiral

Story Sent in by Mary:

Robert emailed me over OkCupid and I checked out his profile. It was nice and normal. Well, except that under "The most private thing I'm willing to admit," he wrote, "I LIKE LIKE LIKE IT IN THE BUTT."

But you see, the rest of his profile was pretty charming and humorous. It had to be some sort of dumb joke, a failed attempt at irony, or some other excuse I made for the poor guy. Anyway, we talked online, we spoke over the phone, and we finally met in person at a lounge in a bowling alley.

We sat down and the first five minutes were pretty close to ideal. We shared funny stories and kept each other laughing. He seemed like a sweet (if awkward) guy. Then he laced his fingers together and leaned forward.

"So, I'm a butt guy."

"Your profile said something about that. Good for you. A man should have a hobby."

"Mine's butts," he said. "They're sort of my thing."

"You're so lucky to have one."

"Want to see it?"

"No, thanks."

"Can I see yours?"

"Not right now."

"Want something to drink?"

"Yes, please."

He grabbed us beers and sat back down. We spoke for a bit longer and I asked him if he wanted to go bowl. He said, "Nah. Too much to do. Nice meeting you, though." He extended his hand and I shook it. He gave me a military salute and then marched away.

I honestly would've gone out with him again because he was just so endearingly bizarre. But I decided I'd wait to see if he called me, which he didn't. Likely for the best. I'm sure that any love he'd ever have for me wouldn't come close to his love for posteriors.


  1. He obviously mixed up which beer bottle had the rohypnol in it.

  2. Hey, when someone writes their fetish in caps, they're pretty much telling you what they want right off -- so to me, the woman is not only looking like the bad date here, but fairly conceited about his butt religion being a joke and all. Just thinking - hey he outright told'ja; no surprises.


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