Casual. Casual. Casual should mean wearing jeans to work on Friday. It should mean the way you act when a cop slowly drives past your suspicious, acid-harboring self on Regent and Jefferson. However, casual should not be related to anything having to do with you pulling tricks via Craigslist. Craigslist's ""Casual Encounters"" is a heaven and haven for pervs and skeeves alike in the digital age that post their sexual desires in hopes of being contacted by an M, W, or even T, who can fulfill them with no strings attached. Some of these posts' explicit yet hilarious descriptions and pictures make me blush, but not in the good way. However, I can't make myself stop browsing once I've seen the first nasty dick pic of the day. No, my urge to repeatedly see putrid things is far too strong.
It has come to the point where I have been told that I'm addicted to ""Casual Encounters"" on at least three occasions by at least one or two people.
If I don't take care of my addiction soon, I am bound for destruction. I heard a story about this one guy who looked at ""Casual Encounters"" to such an extent, that one time in the middle of lecture, he blacked out and woke up in the girls' bathroom of Kollege Klub later that night, with his browser open to a picture of a man wearing what looked to be a diaper. He had no idea how he got there. He went to UW-Stout.
What's even more disturbing is the Craigslist Rehabilitation Center for ""Casual Encounters"" Abusers (CRC-CEA), located somewhere in the heart of Kansas. I don't know that much about it, but I do know that they force you to read the local classifieds for hours on end. They even make you contact someone for ""NSA massages"" the old way, that is, through that one guy at work's cousin Steve who used to bartend at the Bamboo Room in the 90's and knows ""a few willing ladies in the area you can page.""
Oh god, I feel sick. Using pagers to solicit sex is so... dated.
On the other hand, I feel I still have a bit more time to spend on Craigslist before my imminent downward spiral into the grasp of the federal government. For now, I am compiling a list of the best posts I have seen (text only) so that when I get out of rehab/jail I will be able to look back and laugh.
My personal favorite has an undeniably catchy title, ""2 queen beds in my hotel room, ever fuck a prince? (Downtown, Madison)."" No, I have not had the chance yet. The hopeful then begins his erotic plea by enticing the inner desires of every woman, ever. He says, ""Let me set the scene for you: I lay you down upon this queen bed..."" Stop right there, I am getting too hot for print journalism. A queen bed? After almost a full year of a Twin XL, I am nearly sold. This man has charisma. After that he says some gross shit, but closes with this endearing gem: ""It will be an experience you'll never forget."" Does this mean I will get a keepsake in the form of painful, oozing bumps? If so, Reply to Sender.
Maybe I am opening the doors up for your next addiction. I am so sorry, but the upside is that at least it is not crack. A few early signs of addiction are easy to detect: checking ""Casual Encounters"" before ""FML,"" night sweats, inability to complete your Comm. Arts paper, and rickets. Armed with the warning signs, go to your bedroom, close the shades, lock the door, ask your roommate where he will be for the next half hour and pull up Craigslist, because you know you're looking for ""a bj or whatever.""
If your real-life, committed relationships with people you know and trust just aren't cutting it, seek W4M VP at evanpay@wisc.edu.
