As I opened my computer this morning, I found a cheery email waiting from someone named Victoria with the title, “Greetings, well-hung sweetheart! How life treats you?”
I think Victoria, whoever she is, has me confused with someone else, someone much younger, so I felt honor-bound not to open her mail, not even to correct her English. I hope she finds her well-hung sweetheart who she apparently knows quite well. Instead, I just sent her my bank account and social security numbers. Others who email me seem to find them very useful, but I don’t understand why. One said it was for her children’s school project. (It’s good for parents to be involved.) I also mentioned my age, and this seemed to excite her. Already, she has left several phone messages on my answering machine. She is interested in my family and wants to know my mother’s maiden name. How sweet! Her voice is very masculine with an accent that almost sounds Nigerian.
I was reminded of my working days when a notoriously untidy, pipe-smoking colleague (male) found a note on his desk one morning left by the nighttime cleaning crew: “What you house look like, you old bag?” No one had ever called him an old bag before. We jokingly called him an old bag for weeks afterward, although he was neither.