Monday, November 6, 2023

SerenityNOw1875BringIt

Howdy, daters on the scene! Yes, indeed, we at the F'n Rad Dating Site have a new dating profile to share with you tonight, and he's ready for the ladies, NOW. So serene, this guy. You won't want to miss out. Read his profile and learn...

Letter from potential dater, SerenityNOw1875BringIt, to the F’n Rad Dating Site…

Dear F’n Rad Dating Site:

I ain’t gonna lie, ladies. Straight up, I’m real, real sick. It's been bad. I mean, real bad...since day one, so when you think of me, think of some deranged cripple. But now I got my sponsor, Biker Butch, and he’s living in some fourth dimension of spirituality, and I know it’s the right road and no lie...I just found out he’s one of those real-life transistor crossdressers, but now that I’m clean, his privates ain’t none of my business, and I just want you to know that I love all you fairies. Honest to God, it’s one moment at a time for someone so truly fucked like me. Serenity NOW, bring it. I’m shaking like the leaf, but as soon as they get these meds sorted out, I’ll be good to go, and maybe we can kick it, if you’re into psychos. I’ve never been too good at this dating thing. Killer Ben, who’s got two years, told me not to date for the first year sober, but I ain’t seen that anywhere in the books. I been praying about hooking up every second when I’m down, and after Bad Betty served up some homemade cheesecake at the noon meeting, I got the answer which is this: hells yeah, ladies, bring it. No lie, I just got my GED in the joint. I tried high school seven times, but none of them were having me, because they didn’t get my genius mentality. God bless that one principal who sent me to my first rehab. After Bald Bob explained it to me, I now know that principal was trying to save my life, which was real nice coming from that fat midget. I woulda made the diploma at number seven, if it weren’t for that time I did the shrooms and jumped off the roof thinking I was Superman, hells yeah, and I coulda slipped outta there no lie, but that history teacher sent me to the po-lice, which made me realize she was way more than a fat dike, and really an angel in my life, and no lie, I came outta that fall with only one little cartoon Band-Aid, because God was watching out for me. Hells yeah. I’m fresh outta my tenth detox, but no lie, I got it this time, doing the steps, and pretty soon, I get my new teeth and a place at the halfway or the sober living, so you can visit me there, and if you got some XS thrift T’s and size 13 Nikes, bring it. I think my head might explode because I already died 30 times, but the paramedics brought me back and that one time, there was one hot nurse, so I up and married her even though her family was a bunch of Injuns straight-up like Crazy Horse, so now I got three boys, but my old lady’s got custody down in Florida, and no lie, the Nazi judge gave me that restraining order, so I ain’t even been able to take them, you know, trick or treating, but that candy would kill my ulcers anyhow, so really, it’s a god thing, but I wasn’t listening to my higher power because yesterday, even with being all tore up, I ate 20 generic stale mushy Chips Ahoys, and I swallowed 35 cups of weak coffee, and no lie, I need new organs, but my dick is working again, which is a miracle through God’s grace, so bring it, ladies. I ain’t gonna lie, it was bad, real bad…I had my first drink when I was a baby and you know, the whole family was partying, and they didn’t even notice me spitting out my pacifier and slipping some Beam into my bottle, and there was probably even booze in my mom’s tit when I was sucking it, because I’ve been an alcoholic and addict since day one, and the problem is nobody but me. Me. I AM no better than dogshit smeared into your fly Adidas kicks. I rolled my first tricycle three times and when I got my Big Wheel, I was right loaded and ran over the neighbor’s guinea pig, but I thought it was a rat in suburbia, so I believed I was doing a nice thing and killing it, and then I saw my neighbor Georgie crying, and I will never forget the look on his face and goddamnit, Georgie, I can still see you, because your nastyass pimple cheeks are burned in my brain, and each moment I’m sober, I remember Clyde, your flat, tore up rodent and ever since then, I haven’t been able to go into a PetSmart without having a panic attack. By eighth grade, I was growing and selling weed, and I had connections all the way to Mexico, and for real, I led a double life, because everybody knows that down there, there’s nothing but sombreros, mustaches, tunnels, and cocaine, and no one on my block knew that every week, I was worried I might get shot or burned alive by super scary Spanish people, that I had to keep using to live and let live. My family couldn’t enjoy one Christmas without me pulling out the blow torch, and you know, they told me to cook the turkey, and when I was loaded, I took everything literal, and no lie, I once woke up in Hollywood with no pants on, and I soon found out that I had crashed my car into the bank window, tearing apart the ATM, and everyone on the block got some of that cash, so I made some friends, but they weren’t real friends, like my home group, but more like roaches you can’t get rid of, and that wasn’t even the worst of it, because the year before, I slept with my sister and lost my right leg on account of shooting up and the gangrene, but no lie, that still didn’t stop me, because I still hopped around and swallowed whatever was near, even on the crutches and at one point, even with the ankle bracelet and surprise piss tests, I was downing crates of vanilla extract, and I smelled like a fucking birthday cake, when I went and murdered a retarded kid, and then, I came to in the loony bin, and then, I was in the joint three years, and that’s where I learned more about black people and recovery. Well, I hope I didn't just puke out too much, but straight up, I'm for real open and fuckin raw, hells yeah, so if you like it, let's get freaky, and I'm all for you sucking my balls, even if you're chubby.

Body type: white, 6’3”, skinny as fuck
Status:  separated
Hair: bleached, waist-length locks
Tattoos/Piercings: you can’t see my skin no more
Occupation: ashtray cleaner, shit shoveler, painter, window cleaner, HVAC technician, and sometimes I nanny for Loose Kathy, who’s got ten years clean and seventeen kids.
Smoke/Drink: Chimney/one day sober
Interests: group chat, choice street clothes, baggy jeans, food, sugar, food, more food, good food, spoiled food, free picnic food covered in bees and flies, week-old donuts, group meetings, getting to know you, even if your mom’s from Africa or West Virginia, smoking cigs, coffee, energy drinks, tattoos, piercings, branding, hanging outside in groups and not talking, getting rides, repeating positive affirmations, and Patty who’s got 45 years clean just taught me the crochet, so if you got yarn, bring it.
Interested in: I’m into women, 18-24, maybe a curvy girl with a pierced cheek. I could also dig a skinny cougar. If you want me to be gay, I ain’t playing. I think Fred who’s got 30 years might hook me up with another job real soon. I think it’s shoveling cow shit 70 hours a week, 10 dollars an hour, but I’m grateful, no lie. So, ladies, we can hit a meeting together, and there’s free food there sometimes, which would be cool, and then we can chill and bang or whatever…it works if you work it. No lie, I could use some Adidas sweatpants and a snap-back hat if you got it, bring it.

SerenityNOw1875BringIt

-- C.A. MacConnell

(Note from author:  for anyone interested in my writing, fyi, I can do any genre, any voice, and it will always be 100% authentic and unique...because AI might be cool, but it can't duplicate original voice...it's impossible, because original voice comes from life experience, past and present, and with humans, there are variances and discrepancies, and there is also an element of mystery, because certain things enter the brain out of thin air. Just as it is impossible to explain God, impossible to explain the mystery between music notes, and impossible to explain the workings inside the specific touch of great paintings, it is impossible to manufacture original voice)