This blog may seem self-assuring or vain. Apologies in advance.




Over the past few years, I'm not sure that there has been a time where I have not served as a muse for an older man. Whether on purpose or involuntarily, something about me makes men in their late 20's become obsessed with me.

Most of them were very boring older men whose affections were unwarranted and stifling.

There is one who, 2 years after we had been friends, still texts me sexual things. Mostly things about classical music and beer and hot baths. I promise he wasn't sixty... but shit.

My problem with this situation was that I have a tendency to befriend older men in pursuit of intelligent conversation. And even if I am upfront and honest of my intention just to have discussions, it seems that the man expects or wants more, and despite my blatant aversion, he continues to speak to me, and normally quite sexually.

Currently it is coming to me in the form of a stranger on myspace who has sent me at least 100 messages in the course of a few months. He either sends me excerpts from Chuck Palahniuk books (which, come on, I was once a teenaged hipster. I read it and got over it already.) or e.e. cummings poetry, but most often his own poetry and prose. His is fairly elementary for a 26 year old who fancies himself an author. Most of it reeks of a copycat attempt to be "different" and none of it is striking in any way.

I feel I must clarify that I have never once responded to any of his messages, aside from one of the first, stating that I did not know him.

Anyway, in these messages he often responds to whatever change comes about in my profile. This worries me a little more than the poetry, because it means that he scours my profile daily. In his most recent message he commented on my cleavage. So, there's a good chance there's a dude in Florida beating off to my internet profile. Sweet.


Most people would ask why I don't block him, or make my profile private. Honestly, this is all so ridiculous that I feel if I did that, the man would go into a depressive rage about it, like he did when his friend request to me timed out, thinking that I denied it, even though I hardly ever deny friend requests in favor of just letting them rot.

Basically, I'm a muse for older men who insist on making their lives seem drunkenly artistic, with a penchant for younger ladies who have brains. Gross, dude.


Edit: I never did like poetry, though. I enjoyed writing it but aside from my teenage obsession with Edgar Allen Poe, I don't get into it. I just don't care. My 7th grade Literature teacher would be ashamed.