Hey! Women of New York City

See how this goes...

---------- Forwarded message ---------
From: Wolf Alexander <congressmanalexander@gmail.com>
Date: Sun, Feb 2, 2025 at 12:01 PM
Subject: Hey! Women of New York City
To: <careers@thefp.com>, The Jewish Dating Game! <yenta@thejewishdatinggame.com>, <bkp@brooklynpoets.org>, Bushwick Writers Group <info@email.meetup.com>, <emmasmithwatts@gmail.com>, Comedians on the loose - OPEN MIC <sonja@comediansontheloose.com>, <FromNYtoLAforKamala@gmail.com>, <Gr.SocialistAlternative@gmail.com>, <judy.goldstein@columbiaspectator.com>, <info@lutyensrubinstein.co.uk>, <press@bonnieblue.fans>, <tips@thefp.com>, The Tiny Cupboard <hellotinycupboard@gmail.com>, <shea.vance@columbiaspectator.com>, <wbmccracken@gmail.com>, <ztillman2@bloomberg.net>, <Brooklynindivisible@gmail.com>, Dana Miller <dana@gothamwriters.com>

Girls,

I really do understand that while you find me interesting, and notice I walk the walk, you don't want me yet. En mass. Which is fine because I don't want you en mass either. 

I mean, I do. 

The man in me wants to sow enough wild oats to feed Czechoslovakia. But the boy in me wants his soulmate. So I am around you, all the time now by the bushel. And I hear and see you and want almost every one of you. You're mostly all in shape, relatively aggressive even at the shy end, smarter than the average, and there are a lot of you, everywhere! 

But I haven't liked anyone of you enough to really try. I've been waiting for a woman to grab me, at least by the collar. But you're not doing it and I think it's because you sense, I don't want you that much.

I remember back when I was a half-decent player. I was super, aggressive about hitting on you. I wasn't successful every time but I just kept hammering at the basic idea of "hot girl. Try to get in her pants."

Now, my libido is greater! -- LA wildfire hot. But I'm not being aggressive about satisfying it.

Because I don't want those of you I've encountered for more than just casual sex. Something about you hasn't done it for my soul. Nothing bad. Just not a match.

For example: Friday night I went to a writing club at a Burger King in the Financial District. A girl of 11+ hotness sat down next to me. Talk about "having it my way". Red-gold hair. A "tree climbing" body. And a real spitfire too. She was making sarcastic comments, reading provocative essays, and being a playful trouble-maker. Check check check.

The very first woman in New York I've met that deserved the title "spitfire".

I was on full red alert "SHE MIGHT BE "YOU" SHE MIGHT BE "YOU"" -- I talk to my girlfriend in my head even though I haven't met her. Better than talking to god who isn't real or myself 'cause that's sad. 

But she wasn't my girlfriend. She rejected me when I asked her out. 

But did I really want her? Sexually, yeah. You can say that again and again. But she said something in one of her essays about "rewriting the Declaration of Independence" and I asked her what she meant and she didn't have an answer.

Why would anyone want to rewrite the Declaration? It has no legal standing. It has no power. I wish it did but it doesn't. It was a statement. Not a law. 

I know what she meant. She doesn't like some of the things The Founders put into our country. The racism. The classism. The sexism. Etc. She's right. That needs to be fixed.

But rewriting the Declaration won't do that. To do that she'd need to rewrite the Constitution. Or amend it, as was allowed.

I wanted to sleep with her nine ways from Sunday but she was so wrong about civics that I wasn't as charming and determined as I would have been had she said "I want to rewrite the Constitution." If she had said that instead of the other I would have put Herculean effort into winning her. Instead of the half-assed attempt I made. Even making the attempt at all should tell you just how hot, and different from most "hot girls" she was. Even the other hot, smart girls at the event. She was a head above them. But not a head above me. Or at my level which is who I'm looking for. She wasn't smart enough. And despite my wild animal brain going "this is the hottest woman you have ever encountered in your entire life", I knew she wasn't the one. I didn't want to know it, but I knew it.

So now as I wake up alone yet again, angry at the fact and wondering why the hell I don't just saddle up and get laid, I am trying to explain to myself, and to you for entertainment, why I'm the hottest man on earth who's not getting any.

I don't want! "any". I want "her." You, hopefully. But her, definitely. My girl. I want my spitfire-soulmate and I'll know her when I meet her. See her. Hear her. She will be like a comet shooting across the sky, and slamming into earth right in front of me.

Almost! the other day. She was almost. And goddamn I am still, thinking, about how hot she was, my spitfire-seatmate. But not my soulmate.

--Wolf Alexander