Work Text:
1. Craigslist
Sad Suburban DILF - w4m
you were standing next to the ice cream looking lost. I just wanted some rocky road, and you asked what you should get for your kid. Idk why you thought I’d be a good pick, but I asked what the occasion was and you said, “my wife, his mom, passed away five years ago.” I said Neopolitan because you have three flavors to hedge your bets, and also because it’s a rainbow. Then I handed you my bottle of 2 buck chuck but you said you didn’t drink, so then I handed you the kombucha I had. Which was 2% alcohol, and I felt so awkward I fled without my ice cream.
It’s been a week, but I’m still thinking about your sad face. And if I had leaned in to kiss you that would’ve been better than awkward semi-alcoholic drinks. I’m told I can be intoxicating?? (not a britney song lyric I swear) And you look like you could use some fun.
(And ok fine, I did notice you were built like a tank, and I dig it)
You: a Suburban DILF ISO Ice Cream - w4m
You found me by the ice cream again. “I heard the Neopolitan is good,” you said. I turned away from picking between Ube and Thai Tea ice cream sandwiches to look at you. You weren’t as stressed as last time.
“Did your kid like it?”
“Yeah. He said since there are three colors, he needed to split with his two other brothers. As if he’d never seen Neopolitan before!” You laughed, and I knew you’d eaten that ice cream with all your kids. It was a good look on you.
“You’re single, yeah?” Had to shoot my shot, after all.
You stared at me, wide-eyed. “Uh, yes? Yes,” you said more firmly. “...You?”
Score. “Single ever since I got dumped a year ago.”
“Etienne, my eldest, got dumped for the first time. By text, which is why I’m here at 11pm.”
“Oh, so you’re here for breakup ice cream this time.”
“Sadly. Any suggestions for that?”
“Gotta do good old Haagen-dasz ice cream bars this time. It’s a right of passage. The kind with chocolate and almonds.”
Your phone dinged some more, and you glanced down at it regretfully. “He wants to know when I’m bringing ‘sweet, cold, sugary relief from this pain,’” you said and I think you didn’t want to go, but I shooed you off and tossed a can of Reddi-wip to you.
You had a small smile on your face as you left.
(No, I am not telling the rest of you internet strangers what grocery store I’m in. 1) stranger danger and 2) give a girl some privacy! Y’all are already seeing me thirst after this dude online, IDK if my ego could handle it IRL. 😂)
Poolside suburban DILF - w4m
ok, so I’m going to assume you’re never going to read this, so what the hell, I’m gonna be thirsty on main.
So there I was, minding my own business at the pool, when who emerged from the water but you? Like I knew you were big (not a dick joke; I might be thirsty, but I have some respect on the internet), but damn. Like, carry me on those shoulders, sturdy enough to be a horse I ride off to victory or something big. And you had the audacity to be dripping water all over those muscles and slicking your hair back and I just!! Unfair, it was very unfair.
I guess my saving grace was your kid came because his friend had puked, and off you went. And then I saw you were wearing a fucking speedo and my soul left my body, and then I left before I did something dumb.
I’m not saying I’m posting these ads because I’m desperate to smash. (I mean, 10/10 would give kissing a go in hopes of more.) But c’mon, throw a girl a bone here. You’re good with kids, love ice cream, and you’re hot, so can I get your number please?
Lady in Gold - m4w
I missed your previous ads, so now I’m placing one of my own.
When I saw you in Q’s fashion show, resplendent in gold, I was struck dumb. Your skin gleamed, and in that dress you were a warrior ready to conquer any who stood before you, myself included. The pale scar across your neck reminded me of my own past -- I once drowned trying to save my wife (yes the same one who is dead; rest assured there are no wives in my attic). It seems we’ve both had near death encounters and lived to tell the tale. I remember what it was to relearn to breathe, I wonder if it was the same for you.
I feel, at times, you’ve breathed life into me. If I were ever to have the press of your lips against mine, your breath to my lungs, filling me up, oh, I am not sure I could survive.
I digress. Our eyes caught as I congratulated Q. You were there for work, so I didn’t want to approach you. Instead, I asked N if he knew anything about you. His eyebrows lifted straight into his hairline, and he said, “Wait, you’re sad suburban DILF?”
I stood there dumb for other reasons now, and then N was showing me your previous posts. (For what it’s worth, the pool post made me blush, but it wasn’t objectifying.) So, perhaps it’s not unwelcome to say you were covered in gold dust, and I wanted to be touched by you until I was as golden as you.
2. Letters
Jay,
Remember how I told you I was desperately thirsting after this hot single suburban dad? Yes, the one I hunted down using Craigslist, lol. So, he and I finally. finally. had our date. And after all this UST, I though it’d be a “hey let’s have ‘dinner,’ and by dinner I mean two bites of pasta and then we fuck like rabbits.” What was I supposed to think when his first date was at his house?? But this dude. This dude Jay!
He opens the door with a pink apron, and you know men who are so confident in themselves they don’t care about wearing pink and being soft are my weakness. And his house smells really good, like he has a stew going in a Le Creuset on the stove for hours. And there are fresh flowers on the table, sunflowers! My favorite! I wonder if he noticed it at Quỳnh’s fashion show, or if he asked her.
Anyways, turns out Booker is a Chrissy Teigan fan; it was her beef bourguignjang. And it was really easy to talk with him – I guess I shouldn’t be surprised since we have so many friends in common. I know you joke I’ve turned into an old woman by virtue of hanging out with an older crowd here, but they’re just so cool, and they like listening to me talk about Rodin and Basquiat.
Right, so it turns out Booker isn’t just pretty, he’s comfy to be around, and he can make homemade ice cream. If you’re thinking who makes homemade ice cream?, I was thinking the same thing Jay. And now I’m thinking maybe I need to broaden my horizons of what’s possible in romance, because that miso butterscotch ice cream was so delicious I asked him for the recipe.
“I’m happy to give it to you,” he said, “but I’m also happy to make it for you again.”
“Is that a second date I hear?”
“Yes,” he said, very unashamedly. And oh, I get what Dizzy means about dating someone older who knows what they want, no games.
“Am I going to have to wait until then for a kiss?”
He sprung right up, and then we were kissing, and it was a nice kiss. He was polite about it until I threw some tongue in, and he got the hint. Then it was a very nice kiss, foot popping and all. It also helped I was finally able to get my hands on that body (!). Alas, right as I was getting my hands on that butt, his phone rang.
His phone had been silent the whole night, so I wasn’t surprised when he ruefully said it was the babysitter. She had a personal emergency and couldn’t finish the night, so could he pick up Henri? He apologized for cutting our date short, but it was okay – he has kids, I get that.
As I gathered up my purse and slid my sandals back on, he handed me another bouquet of sunflowers. “For you to take home,” he offered.
I am not ashamed to admit I asked, “How are you single?”
He winced. “As you can tell, being a single dad to three kids takes a lot of time and someone okay with interruptions.”
“I can be patient.”
“I know,” he said with a smile. And then with a glint in his eye he said, “How about a reward for your patience then?”
“I’m all ears.”
“For every day you have to wait until we have another date, I promise you an orgasm.”
Jay, I swear my soul left my body. He wasn’t cocky, he wasn’t an asshole, he said it as calmly as “oh can you pass me the ketchup?” and the sheer BDE of it, I just, WHEW.
I kissed him one last time and said, “I’ll be counting the days then.” I did my best to think about all the ways I wanted to get sweaty and naked with him while I looked him in the eye. I think he got my drift.
-Nile
P.S. His kid, Jasmin, even apologized for interrupting our date. How cute is that?
Jay,
This man might be the death of me. And I know you’re already making jokes about little deaths and orgasms because I told you he speaks French, but this dude’s game is??? Here’s our text messages:
Me: Dude it’s been like 8 days, you sure you don’t want to split this across two dates?
Him: No, no I’m very sure
Me: 👀👀
Him: Besides, anticipation makes it all the sweeter. :)
JAY!!
Although, okay so maybe he was on to something about the anticipation because each new day means another orgasm. Which means I get another day to fantasize about what new way he’s gonna get me off. Am I setting myself up for disappointment? Or am I setting myself up for success? I’m currently visualizing so hard, I could win the inter-state cowgirl championship. ;)
I’ll let you know how this goes.
-Nile
Jay,
This one’s short, because even though I haven’t received your letter back, I know you’re dying to find out. Dude was not lying about his prowess. His head game? On point. His stroke game? On point. He made solid on that promise of eight orgasms and then some.
Oh, but wait, it gets even better.
I’m not going to get all pornographic on you over letter (but when you come back I’ll tell you all about it!), but after orgasm #8 and I swear I saw black lesbian feminist Jesus, I needed a snack. So while I was searching for his stash of granola bars, I found a bonnet. And I was like, “Why do you have a bonnet?”
And he honest-to-goodness blushes, and says, “Well, I was hoping you might stay the night. And I didn’t want to pressure you in case you didn’t want to, which is why I didn’t ask in advance. And Joe said if I cared at all about your hair, to not ask you to ruin it just so I could snuggle you.
“Oh, and I have lotion too, so you don’t have to worry about being ashy in the morning.”
And girl, I got back on that horse, or man in this case, and rode him to orgasm #9.
-Nile
Chère Nile,
You were reading Octavia E. Butler’s Parable of the Talents, and you left it on your nightstand. When you were called in for a shift, I picked it up. One of the lines, “In order to rise from its own ashes a phoenix first must burn” – people always told me about it when Adèle died, and I knew it was true (thanks to Henry, I’ve seen The Lion King a lot, it’s the circle of life, etc.), but it didn’t make it easier to hear. Time made it easier to hear.
It feels odd to begin this letter to you mentioning Adèle, but she is, indirectly, the reason we met. I never expected the anniversary of her death would be the day I met you. Although I shouldn’t be surprised Jasmin and his sobbing for ice cream was also the reason; he’ll lord that over us to the end of our days.
I thought I had totally blown any chance with you, but then we kept running into each other. And as it turns out, the World Wide Web, just like the world, is very small and it was strange we’d never met through our friends.
You’re smart, you’re funny, and yes, beautiful; even when I run into you at 2am in the ice cream aisle or in your bonnet at your fridge. Since our relationship began with an online ad, I wanted this to follow suit. Forgive me for not posting it to Craigslist, but I hope a handwritten letter will suffice. (Craigslist is practically a bulletin board full of letters anyway, if you ask me.)
I’m not sure this is much of a secret anyway: Etienne, Jasmin, and Henry have all asked when I’m going to tell you. I’m not sure when my children became old enough to give such good advice as leading with my heart, and telling the truth of it, but I (and all their aunts and uncles) must’ve done well by them.
When I asked your mother to teach me her mac and cheese recipe, I did not expect it to lead to a marriage proposal, joking or otherwise. She was very clear I wasn’t to add (she was very insistent on that, especially after I said I’d tried recipes from Bon Appétit) or subtract any ingredients, and that the amount of spices was subjective but I better add extra to make up for my whiteness. She also gave a list of appropriate hot sauces to keep in the pantry (as if I had thrown away the one we bought at the grocery store, but I just took notes and said thank you).
It was worth her teasing when you came home though. “Book?” you said, the moment you walked in, “it smells like mom’s…” and when you saw the casserole dish on the table, your eyes grew so big. You bit your lip, and as it cooled, you pulled me into a tight hug. I know you miss your family in Chicago, and I wanted to give you something other than flowers that would bring sunshine to these long winter days.
You took that first bite, and groaned, “Fuck, marry me,” and then quickly looked panicked. I didn’t want you to feel even more uncomfortable, so I didn’t say anything. But Octavia wrote, “Kindness eases Change. Love quiets fear,” and you have eased me into this unexpected new chapter of my life, and our love makes me brave. So I tell you now the contents of my heart: yes, I would marry you. Ask me, and I would say yes. Ask me to do anything, really, and I would say yes.
I love you so.
Yours,
DILF (Desperately in Love Frenchman)
P.S. Is it too much to mention I have a Pinterest board for a small wedding? I think we should have a summer wedding so we can have an ice cream dessert bar. Oh, and if you haven’t found it yet, there’s ice cream in the fridge, homemade Neopolitan and miso butterscotch. <3