'Twas a weekend in November, the fifth to be exact,

The weekend we change clocks, as a matter of fact;

The ads they were posted with labels and flair,

In hopes that their efforts would lead to an affair;

The readers were curious and skimming the threads,

While visions of tête-à-têtes danc’d in their heads,

The posts promised mischief, and casual conversation,

And seeking to relieve pent up sexual frustration.

When out of the list, between all of the chatter,

A post caught my eye and made my heart pitter-patter.

Away to the chat link I flew like a flash,

Clicked on the correct icon, and typed with panache.

I tried to be engaging, tried every trick that I know,

Trying to stand out in the responses shit-show;

When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,

But a little red one in my chat bubble sphere!

With a sly moving thumb, so lively and quick,

I slid down to read it with a deliberate click.

There for my eyes was a simple, “how do you do?”

So I took a moment to compose my follow through.

"Hello! Thanks for responding, I’m happy you replied,

"I’ve got a smile on my face, one that you have supplied;

"Hopefully, together, we can have some fun!

"What are you looking for in that special someone?"

As dry leaves scatter when the wild winds come on,

Removing all evidence of a frond carpeted lawn,

So to my response did scare away my new friend,

For soon I was ghosted, and it was the end.

But still there were more posts, to read and peruse,

I chose to continue... no singin’ the blues.

And then in a twinkling, I hatched a plan,

I’d make my own post! And thus it began:

Now look, I’m not saying, I’m the best one around,

You’ll make your choice upon learning my background;

I’m taller than some, six-two, from head to toe,

With swarthy brown skin—it’s the classic combo;

I’m married, I’ve got kids (two to be exact),

I’m blunt and straight-forward, or “matter-of-fact”;

My eyes–they are brown, like a mudclump on a prairie,

My cheeks are nothing special, and my nose… isn’t...hairy??

My lips they are full and enjoy being kissed,

And the tickle of my beard can be hard to resist,

When I’m kissin’ ‘n ticklin’ with my nibblin’ teeth,

All while lying above… beside…. or beneath…

Whoa! I’m sorry, got a lil' carried away,

Thinkin' of things and ways we could play;

Where was I? Oh yes, I was selling myself,

Trying to ‘suade you to pick me off the shelf;

(For it’s like you are shopping for a brand new toy,

One you hope will bring you distraction and joy.)

After all of these words, and semi-plagiarized work,

I will leave you with this: that I’m not a jerk.

If you reply, though I can’t promise you prose,

I’ll give it my best, and we’ll see how it goes.

And now as I end this incredibly long post,

I thank you for reading, and offer this toast:

I know you have options as you search and scour-

Happy searching to you, and... enjoy your extra hour!!