Yesterday afternoon, a reader sent us an alarming tale of the perils of love in the big city.
A colleague and I were walking back from lunch when a man follows us into the lobby of our office building. He proceeds to ask us how to get to Rockefeller Center. She defaults to me and I start rattling off directions. As I am done he says thanks and hands her a business card (attached). It may possibly be one of the weirdest, creepiest things I have ever encountered.
She's obviously never encountered a handwritten magazine insert offering oral sex, or a flier in a phone booth seeking a "very promiscuous gal." (Yet.) Our correspondent says that the hopeful bachelor appeared to be about 50 years old (the women involved are in their 20s) and "looked like the typical businessman you would find in midtown."
What this world needs is more love, not less. And while the phrase "If you're not Compromised" is somewhat unsettling before the first date, let's accept that this "sicere solicitation" was given in the spirit of friendship, or even—should your character prove acceptable to this middle-aged Midtown paramour—budding romance. Whether you like it or not.