Dear Portia

Advice to the Lovelorn, the Drastically Distracted and the Deeply Disgruntled

 

Dear (Be still, my heart!) Portia,

Though usually reticent, I feel led, perhaps even compelled, to express the feelings that burgeoned within me upon reading your interview with the Editor in a recent issue of the Ojo.  Your pithy and trenchant comments ignited an instant bond.  Finally I had found a soul mate, a mind and spirit fully in sync with my own mordant and malevolent self!  Your willingness to speak your twisted truth out loud ignited in me a fire which I had thought was long since extinguished.

While the Editor sought to reveal your “compassionate” side, it was exquisitely thrilling to discover in its place a pure and pristine void.  Your sassy attitude is free and unfettered by maudlin, mainstream, mealy-mouthed values.  What started for me as shock and awe at your outspoken wisdom has evolved into feelings of adoration of you, tinged with a soupcon of lust.

Despite your photo, and despite my six plus decades of fealty to traditional sexual mores, I beg you to meet with me just once.  Pick one of the sleazy strip malls south of Zapopan where we can revel in anonymity while we explore mutual commonalities.  Your penchant for stinky cigars entitles you to assume the more butch aspects of our relationship, should you so choose.

Expectantly yours,

Lucretia from Guadalajara

Dear Lucretia,

Well, as the old country western song says, “If you got the money, honey, I got the time.” But here’s a Weather Advisory: Could get stormy because I am no fonder of the female gender than I am of the male. Indeed, my role model has always been Franz Kafka, who once so accurately wrote that the world would be a wonderful place to live in, if it just weren’t for all the human beings.

So I’ll agree to meet with you once, but you better bring along your best game because if it gets tedious, I’ll head out to one of the super malls, where I’ll drown my frustration by buying things I either can’t afford or am much too old to wear. Like a bikini. Now for Full Disclosure: I have agreed to meet with you only because I am hoping that with your unusual name, you are related to the Borgia Family, that old Italian clan that, while murderous, really knew how to party.