NO STRINGS ATTACHED

(Originally posted on Caitlin's Looking for Love Online blog in March 2011)


About two months ago I set off on my mission to find myself a husband in the inauspicious arena of online dating. To document my progress and to avoid having to repeatedly relive my dates for the amusement of my friends, I set up a twitter account. If schadenfreude is your thing, you may follow my misadventures at twitter.com/jenhasgreathair.

Resolved to take this seriously, I have been messaging, IMing, dating and reading as much on the topic as possible. It is incredibly time consuming. I already have a career. This undertaking has become a second job where I only get paid in drinks and thus far, the benefits have been shit.

With all of this work, other things tend to slide, so when my friend told me that he knew a girl that had her house cleaned by a fetishist that got off on cleaning women’s houses it got me thinking. Here is an opportunity for me to do something nice for somebody, and I am all generosity.

The dating site that I am currently on is composed of three sections: Dating, Relationship and Intimate. The Dating and Relationship sections are for all intents identical, but the intimate section is the refuge of the kinky, the fetishists, the ummm... adventurous, and also various and sundry perverted creeps which I suppose is subjective, but at any rate, to this point I had steadfastly avoided this section as it is clearly not the place that MY husband would frequent. However, as it was available to me, and as I had discovered a kink that I could get down with, I created a profile.

I chose a picture, and when prompted for an “Opening Line” I wrote: Looking for a hard worker
Then below, “In My Own Words”, I placed my ad:
I have recently learned that some men get off on cleaning other people's homes. I am looking for an NSA housecleaner. In return I will praise/critique/demean/encourage you (your choice).
Snacks and cleaning supplies will be provided. There will be no sex.
You just come over and clean my house and then you leave. Only serious inquiries, please.

I got two responses in five minutes and speculated on Twitter that I am either a genius or will be murdered by a serial killer. The first response was from a man in LA. He said that it was too bad that he was so far away, because he would love to come and clean my house, so long as I could let him do it in the nude. I considered this. I had been very clear about my no sex policy, however I had to keep in mind that these weirdos had a vested interest that went beyond a disdain for dust and penchant for shiny surfaces.   

His nudity clause reminded me that I had to acknowledge the sexual gratification aspect, and if I am going to take advantage of this kink that gets me out of the chores I most detest while inconveniencing  me very little, I suppose it`s fair play to expect that he might want to jizz at some point. I mulled it over for maybe a minute, then decided so long as he doesn`t do it on a porous surface, I guess I`m okay, because presumably, he`d be cleaning it up after as per our arrangement. But this guy was in LA, and in lieu of cleaning my apartment he offered to send me some naked pictures. I thanked him for his offer, and told him that if he is ever in Toronto that he is welcome to clean my apartment nude, and declined the pictures (he sent them anyway).

(Digression: I showed the above section as a rough draft to the friend that told me about this kink and he told me that I was wrong about the cleaning being the actual fetish. The fetish is apparently his submission to me as I order him around as he cleans my apartment, where the denial of gratification is actually the gratification. How did I not notice this? Easy. I fucking love a clean apartment, not orgasm love it, but still, it seemed plausible that somebody might. Assuming that my friend is correct, the jizz is a non-issue, and the following exchange becomes more poignant.)  

The next message was from Toronto, and it confused me because I didn’t realize that it was in response to the intimate ad. It was one of those cut and paste jobs: “I like your profile and was wondering if you would like to chat!?”
  
My response: “Thanks for taking 3 seconds to cut and paste a message, that is a fantastic impression that you have made on me.”  

Toronto candidate: You're very welcome. But honestly, I didn't cut and paste. So if it comes over, I'm sorry. I think youre upset already. O.K.  

Jen: I can get over it. Try again. Tell me something specific that you liked about my profile.
  
TC: O.K., sounds good. I like your text, the NSA men cleaner. I would be fine with that, cleaning is my second hobby :-) ... I also like your picture, you seem very nice.
  
Very nice, indeed. As it turned out, he had no problem with the NSA part, but either did not comprehend, or did not take seriously the no sex part. And to be fair, I wasn’t taking the entire business seriously either. I only wanted to test the theory of the kink, not to actually have some dubiously qualified stranger in my apartment touching my things. That is pretty much the end of it, and I would have left it at that but Caitlin asked for a guest blog, so the other night I unhid the intimate profile to cultivate some more juicy reaction, all for YOUR benefit.  

The preferred method of communication for the intimate browser is the IM. I had messages from more than 20 different guys in the 5 minutes that my profile was available. None of them have pictures up, and about half of them sent me backstage passes, which is where you can hide pictures on the dating site until you grant access to somebody to look at them (it’s where you put the R-rated stuff.) Many of the guys just wanted to tell me that my profile was hilarious, and one guy made me laugh by asking “what kind of snacks?” These types of responses were far more typical:  

“i will clean your house on commadn and kiss your feet like a total bitch”  

“wanna get your pussy an ass licked ?”  

“haha! u want a working man!? no money no honey, so they so lol”  

I couldn’t read them all. It just didn’t seem fun anymore. I had opened myself up to something that I consider ugly and for every nice response, there were two more crass violations of my personal taste. If I’ve learned anything in the last couple months of this online dating project, it is this: You’ve got to fucking want it, because the hassle, although entertaining at times, can be a real demoralizing drag.  Same goes for the foray into intimate. Entertaining, sure, but ultimately, nothing I really wanted.