Private Magazine

Tag: Craigslist

Beat the Winter Blahs- Craigslist Style!


It’s a subdued night in the city, eerily silent and still. Everybody I know is asleep. I’m pacing around my room, twisting a strand of holiday tinsel, breaking in a new pair of heels. What can I say? There’s no saying no at a holiday shoe sale. I’m manic, medicated, and merry!

The Holiday Season – yes, the disingenuously jolly Holiday Season – has its pedal to the metal. I spend more than 40 hours a week under florescent light bulbs, and this has turned my eyes into narrow slits. I peer suspiciously, cautiously, at each overzealous shopper in my section.

“What? You don’t carry Louis Vuitton?”

“No, but they do in Toronto. Why are you asking me this?”

“Oh, SOOOURY, I’m Canadian.”

Later, I start my car with narrow slit eyes. I find my boxed Franzia and give it a loving stroke.

Whether you are a Mass Market Manipulated Retail Worker, Lonely Living Room Drunk, or Impoverished Individual Who Wishes They Could Give Really Dope Gifts, the holidays can be depressing. So what? Stop making excuses. This is your year to shine. You’re only as good as your last New Year’s resolution. I’m here to make all your holiday fantasies come true – The Ghost of Christmas Perversion.

If you like instant gratification and good fun, you simply must read Craigslist. Like Christmas, Craigslist is all about excess, momentary joy, and losing track of how everything began. I’m here to alleviate some holiday stress through a natural remedy known as Craigslist. I’ve done all the hard work, so hopefully you won’t have to – at least not as much.

Make Extra Holiday Cash

There are plenty of impressive entrepreneurs on Craigslist. As a journalist, I once investigated the Black Market Panty Trade. Some men out there are willing to pay top dollar for panties, I guess. Worn ones, obviously. Plenty has been written on the subject; it’s really not anything that unheard of.

Earlier in the year, I posted an ad in the Personals under Misc. Romance, Casual Encounters, and even the Clothing for Sale section. It was eventually flagged for removal on all of them (probably by competitors).

My ad read “Hot Woman Selling Panties – Do you crave the soft touch of women’s panties? I have hundreds of pairs waiting for you,” etc. I set up a new email account and waited for the stream of thirsty hounds to come.

And come they did. Well, virtually. After an incident which occurred in the parking lot of the Niagara Falls Blvd. Wegmans (the details of which I’ll save for another time), I refused to meet anyone for an in-person trade. Only one customer was okay with me shipping the items – a crossdresser in Oregon. And he didn’t even want panties. He bought an old pair of heels for 50 bucks.

For those thinking someone’s skivvies would make an apropos gift for Grandpa, there’s one current poster whose entrepreneurship impresses me. Just search “Panties.” She is offering each pair mailed with a handwritten note and perfume-sprayed Polaroid for $35. But something tells me the chick from Cheektowaga, with her $5 pairs and phone number readily available, is getting all the action.

Become the Hostess with the Most-est

Now that you’ve banked a cool $5,000 (or, um, $5) slingin’ your dirty laundry, you can host an epic soiree. Unplug that Crock Pot – what do you think this is?! The only pot you need is, well…

For $425, you can buy a light up stripper pole/stage on Craigslist. Please Santa – I’ve been a good girl this year!  This Craigslist purchase would definitely get any soiree off to a rockin’-around-the-Christmas tree start. If you launch your own subterranean basement club, it can be a tax write-off, too.

For the whipped cream on top, there’s the Toronto guys who need “practice” before they become “actual strippers,” and are looking for ladies. Like this post from November 16, “Hot str8 corporate white guy will strip for beer Weekdays – I have always had a fantasy of being a male stripper and am available weekdays. I am good looking 37, white, (bi-curious), athletic, slim, clean shaven and a total exhibitionist. You will take me to a gay bar, buy me a beer or two, and in return I’ll strip and get fully naked for you and give you several lap dances.” What a lush!

Now that you’ve got a tipsy Canadian on a hand-me-down stripper stage, you too can host the soiree of your dreams. Bonus points if you invite a bunch of couples you meet via Casual Encounters. This brings me to…

Find A Mistletoe Makeout

I never found love on Craigslist. Never made out with or held hands with anyone from Craigslist. I never met anyone on Craigslist, period (except Niagara Falls Blvd. panty guy) so I really wouldn’t know the success rate.

But from my research, it seems like those who cannot find love in real life, on Facebook, Instagram, Tinder, OKCupid, Christian Mingle, Our Time, FetLife, or eHarmony, can maybe meet their match on Craigslist. I am here to be the Craigslist Cupid’s arrow, and connect two lonely hearts who tragically have not yet met.

Pantyboy for Mistress is a 26-year-old waiting for his Cinderella in North Buffalo. Any takers? “I just bought some new panties and stockings, and I’m looking for a woman that is into this. I’m white, thin…we can Skype.”

If I can do any good deeds with this column, it would be with this post!  “Daddy/Daughter reunion – m4w. Searching for my daughter and hoping to find you soon! Still looking for you, submissive, obedient always trying your best to please and always a perfect little girl! If we meet and all goes well I know your uncle misses you too! I’d love to finally hear from you and hoping we could talk and meet as soon as possible! Wouldn’t that work for you too?”

Wait – do you think he’s really looking for his daughter?

Finally, “Lonely Man Seeks Lonely Lady, 45, Medina/Gasport,” is potentially the saddest post I’ve seen. He’s basically begging for a “warm body.” Don’t let him get ahold of your holiday turkey!

“Lonely, safe, sane white guy mid 40’s, looking for an attractive lonely lady to come and spend some time or a night with me. Struggling through some rough times, and tired of sleeping alone night after night. Would love to have someone to talk to, watch a movie, do some snuggling, and just having a warm body next to mine.”

His first mistake was using “attractive” and “lonely” to describe the same hypothetical lady. No attractive woman is ever lonely!

That is because if you are confident and fun, you can be your own best company. You can be alone, without being lonely.  In lieu of company, when the winter chill is just too strong, there is always Craigslist. The people out there, searching for their Missed Connection or a Casual Encounter? We’re all in this together. We walk the same streets, ride the same buses. Perhaps one was behind you in line at the Wegman’s on Niagara Falls Blvd., buying a quart of eggnog.

Happy Holidays everyone! Remember – stay cheerful, stay warm, and never think you are the craziest person on the planet. If you do, just log on to Craigslist. It will put everything in perspective.

The Craigslist Orgy

mustashe “Didn’t you write about Video Liquidators?”

I look up from my wine glass, eyes landing on a mustachioed guy I sort-of know. It’s 10 p.m. at The Gypsy Parlor, and a hip-hop show is going on.

“Yeah, I did. You read it?”

“I was deeply moved by the article,” this mustached guy, whose name is Eugene, says.

The comments to “Movie Date at the Video Liquidators Theater” have been pouring in. I love it, readers – thank you! “Joe”s confession that he’s “been there alone a few times” moved me… as did his invitation to a potential orgy. I’m sorry I couldn’t come, Joe! (That’s what she said).  It has found readers in Brazil, Australia, Germany… and other awesome countries! I wish “Tom” luck with taking his girlfriend there for the first time. How did it go?

“Oh, ok.” I say, surprised.

“I feel that I am your soulmate to accompany you on your next journalistic expedition.”


Eugene wanders away and begins pumping his fists to the emcee on stage. He looks attractive.


It’s the following Saturday. Eugene and I are drinking wine in Delaware Park. It’s pouring rain.  We each have our own bottle in a brown paper bag.

“So I was thinking we could pretend to be swingers and infiltrate the Buffalo Swingers Scene,” I say. “It would be an undercover investigation.” I take a swig of my Drama Queen Pinot Grigio from Gates Circle Liquor. “I’m talking with an editor who is potentially interested in the idea.”

“Great, awesome!” Eugene raises his brown paper beverage to the rainy sky – an offering to the gods. “Yes, there’s definitely a Buffalo Swingers Scene. I’ve been to a few things.”

Things…?” I ask. But then I decide not to ask too many questions. I kind of have a crush on Eugene. “Yeah, swingers… cool!”

“I can be your research assistant,” Eugene says.  

We are steadily sipping our vino beneath the Casino in Delaware Park, wandering around aimlessly whenever the rain lets up. Eugene strokes his mustache, as rainwater patters down on his arm tattoos, making them glisten.

I slow down to a halt. Screeeeeeeeeech. I do not want to imbibe all of this wine and do stupid things that I’ll later regret. But do I ever regret anything,  I’m thinking to myself? Suddenly, Eugene’s voice breaks my meditative cloud, my foggy wine haze.

“Let’s go to the Video Liquidators Theater!” Eugene yells. It echoes.

“Oh, I was just there,” I say, exasperated. Did I really just say that?  “Yeah, I mean, why not? It could be interesting…But we’ll have to sneak this wine in.”

I look at my miniscule metallic evening clutch. There’s no fitting wine in there.

“How are we going to smuggle wine into Video Liquidators?” Eugene asks, truly perplexed. Raindrops on his face look like tears.

“Why don’t we go back to my bungalow? I’ll transfer everything to my most giant purse, and we’ll be good to go.”

That’s exactly what we do. We travel the short drive in Eugene’s rugged truck.

“This is the largest bag that I own,” I’m rushing over to my shelf of bags, fetching an obnoxiously large, embroidered, boho-chic Lucky Jeans bag. I throw it on my kitchen table.

“Ok. I’ll be in my bathroom.”

I run into my bathroom, grab some Nars lipstick in a shade called Damned, smear it on. I’m spraying myself down with strawberry, coconut oil-based mist when I hear a commotion.  I peek into my apartment, and spot Eugene standing completely naked in the middle of my kitchen.

“Is this the first time someone has decided to take off their clothes in your kitchen for no apparent reason?” he asks.

“Actually, no -” I reply. “My downstairs neighbor Kurt did the same thing last winter.”

Eugene appears hurt and looks at the ground. beiber ——————————————————————-

We hop back into Eugene’s truck and drive to Video Liquidators. I‘m drunker than  Mary Tyler Moore at the corner store in 1964.  We arrive at Video Liquidators, and stagger through the grimy concrete corridor. Familiar fluorescent lights jar me awake; one bulb flickers and my eyelid twitches. It all seems more foggy, more pastel colored, than I remember. .. Bimbos on the covers of smutty mags cast judgmental glares. We wander to the back of the store, looking for the  entrance of the seedy porn theater.

“Where’s the theater?” I shriek. “Could’ve sworn it was over here. I was only here once, after all.”

“You’re supposed to be the expert,” Eugene mutters under his breath.

What?” I’m disturbed. I’m a Video Liquidators expert?!

I push open the metal door, and lead Eugene into the depths of darkness. About 20 guys are loafing around inside the grimy theater, which apparently is showing gay porn this evening. I tip-toe down the center aisle, trying not to attract attention…but that is impossible, since the two wine bottles are clanging around in my bag.

“SHHH!” I turn around. Eugene is obscured by the shadows. “Let’s sit over there.”

We sneak down to a vacant aisle and collapse – drunkenly, wearily – into our seats. The wine bottles rattle and clank obnoxiously. I stifle laughter, and uncork my wine…until I look around and realize that some of these guys are staring at me. I slump down low in my seat and hide under my bag, knocking over my wine bottle in the process.


It’s a cool, crisp night on Eugene’s roof. We just picked up some wine from the bulletproof liquor store on Ontario Street. Eugene’s face is illuminated by the glow of his iPhone, as he scrolls through Casual Encounters on Craigslist.

“What kind of shit can we get into?” Eugene wonders, mustache twitching.

It never really worked out with the swingers. So I thought that Craigslist could provide journalistic inspiration.

“Oh, here’s one,” Eugene stops, tapping the screen on a recent post.  “Sexy young couple looking to set up NHL-theme swingers club.”

For those not familiar with Casual Encounters – reading it is more entertaining than an entire season of The Wire (sometimes). I’m sure the majority of these folks make everything up. I know this because Eugene and I have been sending them e-mails. In the mw4mw section, a couple is “desperately seeking” another couple, for, I don’t know, whatever. It’s never clear. I don’t personally get it,  but thing is – lots of Buffalo people are posting these things up. I’m sure we pass each other on the street, maybe every day. What does it all mean?! What drives such a covert preoccupation? And who the hell is Craig?

“Well, I’ve been involved with these types of things before,” Eugene says.

“You…you have?” What kinds of things? But I decide not to ask too many questions.


I’ve been hanging out with Eugene for a couple of months now. Like I said, I have a crush on Eugene, despite the fact that he went on a drunken diatribe about “relationships being pointless” and “never wanting to be in one, ever.” The only thing he ever wants to do is snoop around the Casual Encounters section. Randomly, when I’m at work, my “research assistant”  forwards me messages/pictures from these Craigslist Creatures.

“OMG – look at this weird guy,” Eugene writes.

“Thug Nigga in2 Spankin House Party. Age 25.”

Only problem is – most of these Craigslist ads are accompanied by completely X-Rated, bad quality photos. One time I accidentally opened one at work and let out a terrified scream. My boss was like, What now? I was like, Nothing.

———————————– condoms2 It never did work out with Eugene. I think he was more into Craigslist orgies than he was into me. But I’ll always have fond memories of the plans that we made, plans which never manifested. I guess he was just my number one fan.