"The Amazing Story Of The
Most Famous Personal Ad
Some years ago (it seems now like it was another lifetime) I was living in Los Angeles and extremely lonely.
I had a very heavy work schedule... and... I discovered "dating" was something that just didn't seem to work for me. For openers, I didn't have much time for it and, the women I was meeting were not (to say the least) anything at all like what I was looking for.
So... I wrote an ad.
It was a full-page personal ad that ran in a newspaper called L.A. Weekly. What happened as a result of that ad seems almost unreal. As I look back on it now, it seems like it was something that happened in a movie. But, it wasn't a movie. It was real. At the end of this website, there is a photo of a woman sitting at a table reading a copy of that ad. The picture is too small for you to be able to read what the ad says without using a magnifying glass or something. Therefore, before I tell you the rest of this story, I'm going to tell you exactly what that ad said, word-for-word.
The ad began with the question "Are you more than just another pretty face?"
After that question, there was a big headline that said the same thing as the headline at the top of this webpage. Namely...
Generous, Creative Businessman
Wants To Find A Hot, Sexy Woman
With A Good Sense Of Humor
After that headline, here's what the rest of the ad said:
Are you a soft, sexy, exciting lady who would
like to have a little taste of part-time paradise?
If so, read on.
My name is Gary and I am looking for a very
special woman who would like to share a few
small (but exciting!) adventures with me and who
wants to enjoy a part-time slice of the good life.
Are you that woman? Maybe. Maybe not. The
first thing it depends on is me. You see, if I'm not
your kind of guy, then what I have to offer may
not be your idea of how life should be lived.
So let's start with me. Here's what my life is
like. First of all, I'm an early riser. I usually get up
around 6 a.m. and eat a piece of fruit and drink
a cup of coffee, and then, on most days, by 6:30
a.m. I'm jogging around Lake Hollywood. How
far I run depends on how good I feel. It's never
less than three miles and seldom more than
seven. When I'm finished, I get into my car and
drive to a place I call "The House of Pain"
(actually the sign outside says Vince's Gym)
where a stone-age sadist who masquerades as
a fitness instructor forces me to use dumbbells,
barbells, and other fiendish contraptions in ways
for which my body was not designed.
Whatever. After about an hour of this, I travel
to yet another establishment where I give my
tired, hurting body a chance to recover while I
rest upon a UVA suntan bed and listen to
soothing music (usually Rod Stewart or Jimmy
Buffett) on a pair of stereo headphones.
By the time I am finished, it is approximately
9:45 a.m. and what I do next is go home,
shower, change into fresh clothes and eat a light
Finally, after all this, I go to work.
And boy, do I ever work! I love what I do for a
living, and, I must confess, I am truly a
workaholic. For example, right now I am
attempting to put together the financial and
promotional packages for 10 different feature
films. I am writing two books (one fiction and one
non-fiction). I am collaborating on a screenplay
and I am attending to the details of two
businesses I own personally, and also, to the
business details of several corporate and
personal clients whose names are household
It's quite a workload.
And what do I do after I stop working? What
is my big reward for all this running and grunting
and pumping iron and stretching and straining
and writing and thinking and solving and creating
and caring and so on?
Nothing, that's what! Nada. Zip. Not doodley
squat. No "Miller Time!" No drugs. No sex. No
rock and roll.
Not even a little wine and some quiet
Why? The answer is simple. You see, for the
last 3-1/2 months, I have been spending my
evenings and weekends on a marathon of non-
Why have I been sulking? Good question.
And, once again, the answer is simple. You see,
up until 3-1/2 months ago, my "Miller Time" was
terrific. It was terrific because there was a very
beautiful, very erotic, very special lady in my life
and we were in a relationship I thought would
last forever. But, that relationship has ended. It
has ended stupidly, tragically, and for insane
reasons totally beyond the ability of any human
Well, such is life. But what's done is done and
3-1/2 months worth of sulking is more than
enough for anyone and now it is time for me to
climb up out of my sulk and find myself another
So why write an ad? Why do I have to
advertise for a woman? Am I some kind of geek
with two heads and bad breath?
No, I am not. I'm a reasonably attractive
(maybe even semi-handsome?) caucasian male
in his mid-forties with a sparkling personality
(except when I'm sulking), a keen wit, a steady
hand, and a clear eye. I've got a good tan, dark
brown hair and a short, neatly trimmed dark
brown beard with a couple of "interesting" spots
of grey. I am of average size. Not short, not tall,
not fat, not skinny. I'm in excellent health. I'm not
hurting for money and I can look any maitre de in
the country right square in the eye without flinching.
So once again, why do I have to advertise to
get a woman? Well, actually, I don't. I've been
married twice. I've had a few other serious
relationships and, of course, my share of one-
night stands and short-term romances. I've
enjoyed the company of a few really outstanding
ladies and I want to do so again.
But you know what else? I've also met many
ladies who were not so outstanding. In fact, I've
met more than a few women who, although they
had great exteriors, they were, on the inside, flat
Want some examples? You do? OK, you
asked for it. Try these out for size.
Zelda The Princess: Zelda is a 26-year-old
Jewish lady who waltzed into my office and
immediately informed me (before I even had a
chance to say hello) she wanted me to write an
ad for her and she wanted to go to bed with me.
Well, what the hell, on some days I'm a
pushover. She got what she wanted and I must
admit, she gave me one of the most thorough
screwings I've ever had in my life.
Unfortunately, it didn't happen in bed.
And, what happened in bed was unfortunate
also. You see, Zelda's idea of good sex is
brutality. She wants a man who will slap her
around, degrade and humiliate her and, quite
literally, bounce her off the walls.
Sorry, but that's not for me. I like to make love
with a woman, not war.
Sherry The Tragic: Sherry was a secretary
and a go-go dancer. Great body, a very pretty
face and a good sense of humor. Unfortunately,
she was also a "walking accident" looking for a
place to happen. She was always in court on
charges relating to neglecting her four-year-old
daughter and her ex-boyfriend was a Mafia hit
man (true) who wanted her back and was trying
to find her.
We had a very brief affair.
Karen The "Would-Be" Prostitute: A
gorgeous woman who, after our affair got going,
confessed to me she wanted to live her life as a
hooker. Then she informed me she wanted me
to be her first "John" and I should start paying her
for sex. When I refused, she decided I would be
her lord and master (pimp) and she would have
sex with other men and make them pay and then
give the money to me.
This also was a very brief affair.
Claudia The Actress: Sensational looks. A
real traffic stopper. I used her in a few full-page
ads and I created a perfume promotion based
around her. We started hanging out with each
other and I was the envy of all the men who saw
Except me. I wasn't envious of me at all.
Claudia had a terminal case of tunnel vision.
The only thing she could focus on whatsoever for
more than 10-seconds was her precious career.
She was deadly dull. I couldn't sustain
enough interest in her to even take her to bed.
I could go on and on. All of these examples
(except for the names) are true. They have not
been made up. In fact, they have been toned
And so far, I haven't even described what I
consider the worst category of women at all.
These are women who, in my opinion, might
actually be clinically crazy. You want to know
how I can tell? It's easy. You see, these are all
the women who do not have any of the
drawbacks that turn me off, and who, for some
inexplicable reason, are not interested in me.
Can you imagine that?
What do I want in a woman? Well, I've got a
pretty good idea but I am, I must admit, quite
flexible. However, I have a very clear idea of
what I don't want and it is here I am not flexible
at all. So let's start with that. Here then are...
7 Things Gary Does
NOT Want From A Woman!
#1. DEATH OR DISEASE: This is my number
one no-no. Listen, I've never had sex with a gay
man, a bi-sexual man, a transsexual man or any
kind of man at all. I hardly ever go near Santa
Monica Boulevard and, when I do the only place
I ever stop is Barney's Beanery.
And, even then, I never eat quiche.
In other words, I'm straight. Also, I'm not a
hemophiliac. I've never had a blood transfusion.
I'm not a junkie and I never stick needles into my
body. I'm not promiscuous. I don't mess around
with prostitutes (I tried it years ago and it was
boring), and I've never even been close to Africa
What this means, of course, is with any kind
of luck at all (knock on wood) I do not have
AIDS. Also, to my knowledge, I do not have any
other type of dreadful communicable disease
including syphilis, gonorrhea, herpes, hepatitis,
or even the bubonic plague.
If you can't say the same, please, please do
NOT respond to this ad.
#2. DRUG DRAMAS: Do you like to drink a
little or get a little high once in a while so you can
loosen up and party down? You do? Good! That
means you and I can have some fun. But
please... read that first sentence again. See
where it says "a little" and "every once in a while"?
Those words are important to me. Therefore, if
your idea of "a little" and "every once in a while" is
to get drunk or stoned every day, if the way you
like to use cocaine is by freebasing or injecting it,
if you gulp down Valium or Quaaludes by the
fistful, if you use PCP or heroin in any way,
shape or form, then I must, once again, ask you
to please NOT answer this ad.
#3. DESPERATE DILEMMAS: Are you
sleeping in your car because your rent is six
months overdue? Is your ex-husband a hatchet
murderer who is trying to track you down and
who swears to mutilate any man who so much
as looks at you? Are you in desperate need of
fast money because your poor old mother needs
a kidney transplant in order to keep on living?
I'm sorry. I really am. But I'm just an ordinary
everyday nice guy. I'm not Superman or even
Lee Ioaccoa. I'm very compassionate and very
understanding but I have recently retired from
trying to save the world.
Therefore, I'm not qualified to save your life.
However, if you will let me, I might be able to
enhance it by adding to it some excitement and
#4. MARRIAGE: I've been married twice and,
both times it spoiled a great romance. I don't
want to get married again and I don't want to live
with you either. You see, at this point in my life, I
don't want to own a woman. I just want to enjoy
It would be nice if you decide to answer this
ad, if you already have some sort of life of your
own. I don't want to be your everything. I would
much rather be that special somebody you see
two or three times a week and who makes you
Would that be OK?
#5. I DON'T WANT A SEXUAL SWINGER:
Do you spend your evenings attending orgies at
the A-Frame? Do you have a lifetime
membership at Plato's? Do you refuse to call
yourself a prostitute even though you run a credit
check on every man you meet before you go to
bed with him? Do you have a time clock in your
panties and a cash register in your bra?
Sorry, we're not compatible.
You know, even though I've been married
and I've been around, I feel that by Southern
California standards, I'm almost a virgin. For
example, someone told me recently Hugh
Hefner has been to bed with more than 3,000
Could that be true? I don't know but, if it is, he
is, in my opinion, a man to be pitied, not to be
I'll take quality over quantity any day.
#6. I DON'T WANT A SEXUAL PRUDE: I bet
by now you think I'm repressed, don't you? I bet
you think the hot throb of lust does not live in my
loins. I bet you think if you and Kelly LeBrock
showed up at my door with a suitcase full of
excitement from Trashy Lingerie (they're located
at 402 N. La Cienga and they've got the hottest
stuff in town!) and suggested we have a menage
a trois I would toss you both out on your ear and
report you to Jerry Falwell.
You are wrong. You are wrong. You are
wrong. You are wrong.
Fear not. I may be cautious but I'm not crazy.
Hark unto me. Listen. Just because I'm not
into freebasing, orgies and non-stop promiscuity
doesn't mean I'm dead. It's true I don't want a
woman who's been sleeping with everything in
pants. However on the other hand, if you are a
35-year-old virgin who thinks foreplay should be
1/2 hour of begging and "oral sex" is the name of
a disgusting new group of punk rockers then,
you may rest assured, our stars were simply not
meant to cross.
#7. I DON'T WANT A WOMAN WHO CAN'T
STAND PROSPERITY: Don't laugh. I lost the
love of my life because things got "too good."
Some people are into the struggle and not the
I'm into both. As you already know, I like to
work but work without reward is senseless. It
seems to me many women (and men) just insist
on filling up their lives with a lot of needless
Not me. I want the payoff along with the pain.
"If you don't want the good
And just want the bad,
Don't waste your time
By answering this ad!"
Good Lord, that was corny, wasn't it?
Well, anyway, that's my laundry list of what I
don't want and in fact, what I can't handle. Now
comes the hard part. I really feel awkward about
saying what I do want. I'm afraid if I get too
explicit it will seem like I'm an insensitive clod
ordering something from a Chinese menu.
On the other hand, if I don't set down some
guidelines, I'm afraid this ad will be answered by
many women with whom I would not be at all
So please, give me a break. I'm not nearly as
definite about what I am about to write as it will
appear in print. Remember, what I am about to
write is not etched in stone.
Anyway, here I go. My idea of a perfect
woman is someone who is intelligent and healthy
with a good sense of humor and someone who
will take my breath away when I see her in a
As far as age is concerned, if you are
somewhere between 25 and 35 that would be
just fine and, if you are a little younger or a little
older, that is probably no big deal.
I like women who take care of themselves. If
you have a slender, healthy body, a reasonably
slim waist, rather generous (natural) breasts
(God that sounds redneck, doesn't it?), a very
pretty face and a good sense of humor then
quite frankly, you sound like heaven to me!
So much for specifications.
And now if after all this, you are still
interested, what can you expect from me? Well,
the first word in the headline of this ad is
"Generous" and I am just that. However,
generous does not mean "chump." It also doesn't
mean I want to pay for sex. That's ridiculous.
Any man in L.A. who wants to pay for sex doesn't
have to write an ad, all he has to do is answer
one. Those ads are all over, even in the yellow
Here's what I mean by generous. I love to
buy presents for women. I like to take them to
movies and plays and I love to send flowers and
buy them jewelry and clothes and, if I really get
involved with a woman, I rather enjoy helping to
support her and helping her to elevate her
Also, I give great vacation. I love to travel for
long weekends (four days or so) to Acapulco,
Hawaii, Fort Lauderdale, the Bahamas, and so
on. I only fly first class and I try to always stay in
the best hotels and eat in the best restaurants.
Does any of this sound good to you? I hope
so. This is an honest ad. Every word is true and
although I've made a modest attempt to make it
entertaining, you should also know I am sincere.
Are you leery about answering a personal
ad? I don't blame you. I sure am. Before I
decided to write this ad I started reading other
"personal ads" and they scare the hell out of me.
I'm always afraid they are being written by
sexually sick people or real losers and
sometimes by people who are downright
I mean have you read those ads? They go
"Psychotic white woman wants to be sodomized
by 12 cuban truck drivers and a boa constrictor
while husband watches and salivates. Call 1-800-
Or like this:
"96-year-old lady with youthful outlook wants to
meet vegetarian non-smoker to discuss saving
the whales and other ecological concerns."
"Pleasingly plump 590 pound woman wants to
meet sincere fun loving man to care for her and
her lovely 18 children."
And so on.
I'm not like that. Really, I'm not. I promise. I'm
a reasonably normal healthy male who would
like to add a little excitement and romance to his
life with a reasonably normal, healthy female.
If you are at all interested or even curious,
please write and tell me about yourself and how
to get in touch with you and, also, please send a
recent full length photo.
Who knows. Maybe we'll click and maybe we
won't. But, at the very least, you won't be writing
to some sick psychotic and maybe, just maybe,
it will all turn out great.
Just write to:
1544 N. Curson Ave.
Los Angeles, CA 90046
Thank you for your support.
For a personal ad, that one was a little different, wasn't it? It took a lot of nerve for me to write and publish that ad... and... I never had a clue what was going to happen.
I didn't care about any of that. I wasn't interested in doing a movie or TV show, writing a book or giving interviews. All I wanted was to meet a few special women and put a little spice and romance into my life.
Did it work? Did any women answer that ad? You wouldn't believe it! I got replies from all over Los Angeles, all over the United States and, all over the world. And you know what? Some of my friends said I'd get nothing but "gold-diggers."
They were totally wrong. The women who replied to my ad were gorgeous, above-average in intelligence, had their own lives, had a good sense of humor... and... were as burned-out as I was on the time-wasting process of dating. I think I could have been happy with any one of several of them. But, I got hooked by one very special lady. She was a drop-dead redhead and one of the nicest, sweetest women I've ever met. She had two children (one girl, one boy) and she was going through a divorce from a "wannabe" actor. This guy did nothing but sit around and wait for the phone to ring... which meant... "Annette" (not her real name) had to work two jobs just to keep the bills paid.
We started dating, her divorce got finalized and we ended up living together for seven years. Five-and-a-half of those seven years were wonderful. I think I was the happiest, most-contented man on earth. Then, it started to go bad. Why? I think there were a number of reasons. Like most relationships and/or marriages that fail, there is seldom just one thing that causes the breakup. More likely, there are a number of reasons... and... quite often, the real reason never surfaces.
In this case, I'd say I was far more at fault than Annette. I was so contented and satisfied, I got sloppy and, quite frankly...
I Started Taking
Her For Granted!
For any men who might have stumbled onto this website, I'd like to say, if you really cherish a woman... taking her for granted is a stupid, stupid thing to do!
However, the breakup wasn't totally my fault. I'd like to explain something about Annette. This only came to light during the last couple years of our relationship. Remember in my ad how I said (#7) "I DON'T WANT A WOMAN WHO CAN'T STAND PROSPERITY"? Well, I was doing OK financially when Annette and I started dating. But, with her as an inspiration... and... as a valuable helpmate in my business... the two of us started making some serious money! After a couple years, I told Annette she ought to get rid of her second-hand Oldsmobile and let me buy her a Rolls Royce. Unfortunately, she got her earliest imprinting from the Catholic Church and she felt she didn't deserve a Rolls.
Then, I got an idea. I told her OK, I understood. But, I also explained how having a Rolls Royce would help us impress clients and would she consent to help me pick one out. She was OK with that so we went shopping. I had her "test drive" each car... and... guess what? By the time we found the one with the color scheme she liked best (forest green with mahogany trim) you couldn't pry her skinny ass out of that driver's seat with a crow bar. She loved that car and reveled in driving it.
Until her guilt caught up with her.
About one-and-a-half years before we split up for good, Annette began expressing her feelings about how she didn't deserve to be living such an excellent lifestyle. (We had a really nice house in Key West with a double-sized tropical back yard complete with a swimming pool, sauna and even a waterfall.)
Annette didn't deserve to be living in such a house.
Annette didn't deserve to be driving a Rolls Royce
Annette didn't deserve to be vacationing on the French Riviera.
Annette didn't deserve to be scuba diving all over the world.
And on and on.
I tried explaining to her we weren't really rich (we weren't) and that we were just well off. Besides, we both worked very hard for everything we had achieved. However, no matter how hard I tried, I was just no match for the load of guilt imprinted on her psyche by the Catholic Church during her developmental years.
Then, her children started getting into the normal kind of trouble that nearly all teenagers get into.
Because of all this, Annette decided she wanted to move. She announced she didn't want to raise her children in the evil, dangerous (it isn't) environment of Key West. She said she wanted to move to the little town in upstate New York where she spent her childhood. It's only 30 miles from the Canadian border, doesn't even have a movie theater and, in the winter, it gets down to 40 degrees below zero.
Well, there's no way I was going to leave balmy Key West to go live in a one-horse town and freeze my kadinkus off.
So, she and the children moved and I didn't.
We made a weak attempt at trying to keep what was now a "very long-distance" relationship alive. She would fly into Key West or I would fly to "Icebergsville."
It didn't work and it wasn't long before she told me she wanted to end the relationship. I could lie to you and tell you I had an "oh well" attitude about that... but... it wouldn't be true. The truth is, it tore my heart out. At that time, I didn't drink or smoke at all... and... I had not for years and years. (By the way, I don't drink or smoke at all now.) But, during that period of time, I drank and smoked cigarettes like a drunken sailor.
It damn near killed me.
It wasn't too long before I realized I had to put this behavior behind me and get on with my life. So, I totally quit smoking and drinking and realized I had to get out of Key West. Everything there was crammed with memories of Annette, the kids, our two Rottweilers (Max and Sugarpuss), our family cat (Noah) and all the great times we had there.
I simply needed to get away from all those "memory triggers" which did nothing but cause me great emotional pain.
So, I moved to South Miami Beach (SoBe) and set up camp in an apartment owned by Emilio Estefan (Gloria's husband) right smack dab in the middle of Ocean Drive. There's no place else in the world like South Beach and, especially Ocean Drive, which I'll tell you all about in a minute.
But first, you deserve to know whether or not I got over Annette... or else... am I still longing for her, still hoping in my heart-of-hearts some day we will be together again.
The truth is, I am totally not in love with her. I haven't been for nearly four years now. In fact, I can remember the exact moment when I knew that was true. It was when she and I were having a telephone conversation which I cut abruptly short because...
I Was Bored!
See, the opposite of love is not hate. It's indifference. The person Annette is today is someone so boring (at least to me), I don't think she could keep me awake long enough for us to have even a dinner date. Her life now totally revolves around religion. When I say totally, I mean totally! She's even married to a priest! A stuttering, insecure Presbyterian priest. He's a chaplain in the Navy and they are hardly ever together. He'll be home for a total of six weeks this year.
All the rest of the time, he'll be on a Navy troop ship taking care of the needs of all those young, Navy boys.
By the way, as soon as she moved away from me, her relationship with her children completely deteriorated. They hated the priest (still do) and became far wilder and uncontrollable in "Icebergsville" than they ever were in Key West. They both moved away from home shortly after her marriage.
Is Annette a bad person? Not at all. I still think she is one of the sweetest, most caring women I've ever met. She's just insecure and "guilty," that's all. Guilty of what? I don't know. I guess she totally bought the concept of "original sin" and has never been able to shake it... and... she honestly believes she doesn't deserve a good life. She and I are still friends or, at least "friendly." We communicate once in a while by e-mail which frightens and threatens the priest. Believe me, his fears are totally unfounded. All we ever communicate about is an occasional update on people we both know and other innocuous stuff like that.
Anyway, who cares? That's all I'm going to say about Annette. I wouldn't have gone into it this much except I wanted you to know what a dramatic change of direction my life took because of running that full-page personal ad.
I'm Going To
Tell You About
The City of Miami covers an area of approximately 2,000 square miles. The City of Miami Beach is about 53 square miles. The southern tip of Miami Beach, which has the world's largest concentration of Art Deco buildings, is called South Beach or simply, SoBe. SoBe covers an area of only 1-1/2 square miles. Yet, according to Playboy magazine, that 1-1/2 square miles has...
More Beautiful Women Per
Square Foot Than Any Other
Geographic Location In The
History Of The Earth!
Playboy magazine is right. So, after visiting the area a few times, I decided, if I was going to have to be a single man at this stage of my life (which incidentally, was totally unexpected) I may as well be single in SoBe. As I said, I got myself an apartment right smack dab in the middle of the world-famous Ocean Drive. I was in the top floor of the building where Lario's Restaurant is located (owned by Gloria and Emilio Estefan and the Larios family) and right next door to the legendary News Cafe.
The area more than lived up to its reputation. I had never seen so much "eye-candy" in my life.
The women are indescribably gorgeous... and... so are the men. I lived there four full years and I never stopped marveling at the magnificent specimens of humanity to be found right outside my apartment 24-hours a day, 365-days per year.
How did these people get so attractive? Part of it is excellent genetics, part of it comes from being so deeply immersed in narcissistic body worship... and... part of it comes from little-known reasons.
Let's take a moment to discuss a few of those little-known reasons.
Let's look at the men first. Most of those drop-dead gorgeous males are gay. Not only that, the ones with the best bodies of all have AIDS. Having AIDS means a doctor will give you steroids to keep you from suffering the "wasting away" consequences that go hand-in-hand with having AIDS.
Also, gay guys usually take better care of their appearance than straight men... and... when you combine this with steroids and hard-core body worship, you end up with some incredibly attractive men.
Who are very disappointing to the women who swoon over them at first sight.
And the women... South Beach is a mecca for models, both real and "wannabe's." To be a model (as they will tell you themselves) you have to be, first of all, a "genetic freak." Unusually tall, thin and well-proportioned. But even with all this, to be a top model you've got to have an "edge." Here are some of the things models do to get that "edge":
Smoke: Almost 100% of real and aspiring models smoke. To be a
requires you be unnaturally thin and, smoking is an excellent tool to reduce hunger.
(Of course, it'll kill you... but... who wants to think about that?)
Do A Lot Of Cocaine: If you want to kill hunger, cocaine works even
than cigarettes. Snort up a few lines and food will be the last thing on your mind. True,
you might become addicted and ruin your life or have a seizure and die. But hey,
getting on the cover of a hot magazine is worth any price, right?
Vomit A Great Deal: Have dinner with a model and she'll do one of two
She'll either gorge herself (and tell you her metabolism lets her eat anything she wants)
or she'll eat about 25 calories worth of lettuce and carrots.
she chooses the first option (gorging) she'll excuse herself to go to the
after the meal... whereupon she will disgorge her meal. (Models have vomiting down
to a science; they can get the job done in one minute flat.)
Models Usually Have Nothing In Their "Tool Kit" Except Their Looks:
are, of course, some exceptions but, most models have gotten by on their looks nearly
all their lives. This spares them from having to develop people skills like courtesy,
empathy and responsibility.
As one visitor to South Beach said...
"The People Here Are
Gorgeous... And... As Shallow As
A Mud Puddle!"
To make matters worse, Miami and South Miami Beach are not really American cities. They are Latin. English is a "second language." Sometimes, in store windows, you'll actually see signs that say, "English Spoken Here."
Put this all together and you've got a place where someone like me just doesn't fit in too well. Ocean Drive is 15 blocks long and I was the only middle-aged, white, heterosexual, non-Spanish speaking resident in the entire 15 blocks.
Actually, I must admit, I did have some "adventures" in South Beach. But, living there I was truly a "stranger in a strange land." After four years, I moved back to the best place on earth, the Florida Keys. The Keys are where I mostly live... but... I also still live in South Beach part of the time. And Ft. Lauderdale, Key Largo and several other places on the coast of southeast Florida. You see, instead of a house or an apartment, I now live on a boat.
But, please... don't feel sorry for me. It's not a small boat. It's an ocean going houseboat (you might even call it a houseyacht) with 2 bedrooms, 2 bathrooms, plenty of living room, lots of deck space and even a washer and dryer and, my own special computer room. The way I live now is, I spend a few months in Key West, and then, when I get "rock fever" I untie the lines and cruise on up to Miami Beach, Ft. Lauderdale... or maybe... I even cruise over to the Bahamas.
There's no grass to mow, I don't have a garden... and yet... somehow... it works for me.
However, as I said, I spend most of the time in the Florida Keys and there is one teensy, little drawback to living here.
There Are No
All the women here are married, already in a committed relationship, tourists or "creatures of the night" who party non-stop with an intensity that would reduce me to a brain-dead zombie. My life is very together now. I love my work, my lifestyle, my surroundings and everything else. Except... once again...
Obviously, I've seen a number of women since Annette and I broke up. I must admit, I fell in love with two of those women. The first was a young lady named Cherie whom I met in Mississippi on a business trip. She was very excited to meet me and, as soon as we were introduced, she started telling me how she had read my book (How To Make Maximum Money In Minimum Time), every single issue of my newsletter (which I started publishing in 1986) and how she had loved watching all the videos of my seminars. As she continued, I realized she was "coming on" to me.
I couldn't believe it. She was far too young. About 17, I guessed. She said she was 27, divorced and had a seven year old daughter. Quite frankly, I didn't believe her until she showed me her driver's license. Actually, 27 is still way too young for me as far as I'm concerned. But, this was not your usual 27 year old female. She was sweet, gorgeous, incredibly sexy and had a wisdom well beyond her years. To make a long story short, we ended up living together for a while in Florida. Then, I wanted to take a break, put a little space between us and ponder a bit about this situation I had gotten myself into.
After a time, I realized how much I truly missed her and I decided to call her in Mississippi and ask her to come back to Florida.
I was one day too late.
The day before I called, she was murdered. She was stabbed to death by a jealous young man who wanted to marry her. He was arrested and imprisoned almost immediately. But, that didn't do much to assuage my sorrow. That was 3-1/2 years ago and, if you don't mind, I'd just as soon not get into this subject any deeper.
After Cherie, I did fall for another woman. Her name was Nudia. She was a tall, blond beauty from Spain who made me melt every time I looked at her. That relationship was short-lived simply because... she didn't fall in love with me!
Can you believe that? I don't understand how in the world any woman could not fall in love with me. But, guess what?
A High Percentage
Of Women Find It
Very Easy To
Resist My Charms!
The truth is, I'm just not everyone's cup of tea. Truth be told, I'm not most people's cup of tea. I believe in God, I pray and consider myself spiritual. But, I believe organized religion (especially Catholicism) causes an unbelievable amount of suffering.
I think all politicians are scum and I never vote for any of them. I can't dance worth a hoot. (I wish somebody could teach me.) I have thinning hair and I'm sometimes very petty. Plus, I still indulge myself in a lot of sulking.
How petty am I? Here's an example: I have a favorite color combination. It's peach and teal. There's a special shade of peach (it had a coral pinkish tint to it) and when I was with Annette, I had a huge Cadillac Sedan Deville painted that color. I loved it and Annette hated it. You need to know that (except for when we were behind locked bedroom doors) Annette was a very "proper" woman. It was hard to get her even to ride in such a flamboyant car.
Well, when we were breaking up, she told me she was selling the Rolls. I knew the guy she was selling it to. He was a rip off artist who was practically "stealing" the car from her. So, I said, "Why don't you sell the Rolls to me?"
She did. You know it's kind of weird. First, I bought the Rolls for her... then... I bought it from her!
Guess what I did right after I bought it? You're right. I had it painted that peach/pink color I love so much and Annette hates. It gave me a great measure of momentary satisfaction.
But now, I have a peach/pink colored Rolls Royce I never drive, which simply takes up space and is gathering dust in a place called Andy and Dave's Garage. In just a minute, you can click on a link that will take you to a photo of me sitting on the hood of the damned thing.
I wonder what I should do with that huge hunk of iron? I'll figure out something I guess.
But, there are some good things about me. For one thing, I've led kind of an interesting life. I've worked with Ernest and Tova Borgnine, Vikki LaMotta, Don Drysdale, Nancy Quan, Elke Summer, dozens of top models and many other celebrities and multi-millionaires. I publish a newsletter that's read in 50 countries. I give expensive seminars and I've made a number of video and TV shows.
I'm proud to say, I'm the only man who knows the location of the Domestic Abuse Shelter in the Middle Keys. That's because I almost single-handedly raised and contributed the money to build that shelter. (I HATE men who abuse women and children!)
I gave a world-famous hurricane relief seminar at the Holiday Inn in Key West... and... I raised more money for the victims of Hurricane Andrew than any other single individual.
Let's see, what else is good about me? Well, I'm incredibly good looking and... I have the body of a Greek God!
Wait! I got lost in a fantasy there for a moment! I'm actually a pretty average-looking guy with a pretty average body. I guess I'm slightly on the muscular side and, my stomach... really is... as flat as a board. However, I don't have those six pack, "washboard abs" that are so common in South Beach. To get them, I'd have to take steroids... or else... work out and diet much more seriously than I do now.
It's not worth it. At least, not to me.
I guess you'll form your own opinion about how I look when you click on my photos.
What's changed since I wrote the first ad until I decided to write this one?
First of all, I'm older. I won't tell you my age (it would be rude of you to ask)... but... since I was in my mid-40's when I wrote that first ad... and... since that was back in 1985... you don't have to be a mathematical genius to figure out I am now what some people would consider to be "an older man."
That sucks. But, there you have it.
I still do a lot of roadwork (I use a treadmill now instead of running around Lake Hollywood) and I still work out in a gym three days a week. The gleeful sadist (Vince Gironda) who used to train (and torture) me back in California has passed away. He has been replaced by a smallish 5'3" woman named Marilyn White (whom I affectionately think of as "The Nazi Bitch"). Marilyn, by the way, owns Marathon Nutrition and Fitness in the Florida Keys.
Incidentally, for my money, Marilyn is the best trainer in the world and, if you're ever on vacation in the Florida Keys and looking for a gym or a trainer, she's the best.
What else? Oh yeah, I guess you need to know what I'm looking for. Basically, it's the same thing I was looking for in the first ad. I have a weakness for women who are amazingly good-looking (my dream girl is the model for Victoria Secret's wonder bra)... and... it's very important to me all the people in my life be sweet and good-hearted. If you're pushy, tough and caustic, don't bother to answer this ad. One other thing: It may sound odd... but... I like people who read. Whenever I meet someone (male or female) who hasn't read a book in years, it's hard for me to get really interested in them.
Also, I can't imagine having a serious interest in a woman who smokes.
How do you answer this ad? You can't do it by e-mail. Why? Simply because most on-line relationships are phony. In real life, it doesn't work like it did in the movie "You've Got Mail" starring Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan. Much of the time, in real life, it's one fat, ugly person writing to another fat, ugly person. Often, it's two guys writing to each other and one of them is pretending to be a woman.
So, if you're interested in meeting me, you'll have to write me a letter. You've also got to enclose a few recent photos of yourself. It's only fair. You now know a lot about me (including what I look like) and I deserve the same courtesy from you.
I'll answer your letter and, if we seem to have a spark, we'll talk a few times on the phone. Then, if we're still "sparking," I'll pay your way to fly to Key West or South Beach, put you up in a great hotel and pay all your expenses. We'll walk on the beach, play with my jet boats, maybe go to a movie, have a few nice dinners and see what happens.
Anyway, here are the photographs:
Click here for photo #1 which shows my smiling, semi-handsome face.
Click here for photo #2 which will give you an almost full-length shot of my "killer" body as it looks in slacks and shirt.
Click here for photo #3 which shows my Aunt Wanda (who thinks I'm a total nutcase) reading a copy of my first (1985) personal ad.
Click here for photo #4 which shows me sitting on the hood of my Rolls Royce which I never drive.
Click here for photo #5 which shows one (I have four of them) of my "flying saucer" jet boats that I DO drive. A lot!
Click here for photo #6 which shows me shortly after the "Nazi Bitch" has finished torturing me at the gym... and before... I've had a chance to shower. (Gross!)
Click here for photo #7 which shows me showing off a copy of my book "How To Make Maximum Money In Minimum Time."
Click here for photo #8 which shows me offering a toast to you and hoping you will write.
OK, that's it. You've seen the photos and read my story. If, after all this, you think you might be interested in meeting me, send me one or more photos of yourself and a letter telling me a little about you. Here's the address:
c/o Peg Leg's Marine Center
59073 Overseas Hwy
Grassy Key, FL 33050
Thanks for reading all this. I hope it wasn't a waste of your time.
P.S. I have absolutely perfect teeth.