I have an impregnable filter in place to protect my email account, but as any sex-ed teacher will tell you, nothing is 100% foolproof. Sometimes determined little Spam-atazoa breach the barrier and flood my inbox, giving new meaning to Hotmail. There is no apparent rhyme or reason as to why I am targeted for specific schemes and products. I get just as many entreaties to enlarge my manhood as I do to become more womanly. Over the years, I have collected the more unusual subject headings, just as some might collect sea shells, or mushrooms shaped like body parts. And, unlike a Million Little Other Things, these are all true.
I get wads of emails promising male growth. If by growth they mean committed, reliable, willing to take out the garbage on a regular basis without being asked, and note when we’re out of milk and butter, then sign me up. Ditto ‘Make her squeal.’
‘How to please your woman in bed.’ That one’s easy - no burritos before bedtime, don’t hog the covers, and you take the dog for its morning pee at the crack of dawn. I was disappointed to learn that ‘Guys show your thanks with a larger one’ did not refer to diamonds, and shocked that ‘Supersize me’ did not refer to fast food. ‘Gain 3 inches in the bedroom’ didn’t mean a king sized bed or big screen TV either. And while more ‘Zing for my Zinger’ was a tad vague, it will undoubtedly lead to more zippity for one’s doodah, unzippitied doodahs being the scourge of modern women everywhere.
A missive from the heavens arrived one day, proclaiming, ‘A message from God!!’ The exclamation points were there in case I didn’t fully appreciate what a huge deal it was to get an email directly from God as opposed to one of his minions at a call centre in Togo. Presumably, after replying to God, I could then ‘Eliminate my bills the Christian way’ as opposed to the way the heathens and infidels handle their finances. Am I supposed to turn the other cheek? Smite my creditors? Burn them at the stake? Feed them to the lions? Turn the other cheque? Be born again and start with a new identity and line of credit? Will them to Lucifer? Oh, I know. I must have to rob Peter to pay Paul.
‘Hey Pam! Millionaires want to coach you,’ read another. Because that’s the thing with millionaires - they all have so much spare time on their hands. They troll the internet looking for total strangers to coach so they don’t have to be millionaires alone. Or ‘Fast Loan. If I owned a home I would do this.’ So I’m supposed to take financial advice from someone who doesn’t have equity? ‘How to impres chicks.’ Well, you could learn how to spell, and stop calling women ‘chicks’ for a start.
There are other subject headings that tantalize me. ‘Size Really Does Matter. Women really like guys with big…’ What? Dogs? Portfolios? Feet? And the equally cryptic ‘You can attract women or…’ Or… you can continue to wear white socks with sandals and live with your mother. ‘My neighbour’s doing strange things with a…’ That one is easy. I just have to look out any window.
There are some interesting typos, intentional or not, like, ‘Average teenogres online.’ I’m not sure if that really was a typo, as I’m pretty confident teenager and teenogre are interchangeable. ‘Get a Santa Claus Bot here.’ I thought it said Santa Claus bod, and I have one of those already.
‘A message from one of your dirty friends’ arrived one day. Of course I opened that one. That could have been from any number of my friends. And anyway, who wants to hear from their clean friends?
‘Elder lovin’…very explicit.’ Now, if ever there was a subject heading guaranteed to make me NOT want to open an email, this would be the one. If I want to see Elder Lovin’, I can make the same mistake I made as a kid when I barged into my parents’ bedroom loudly demanding breakfast. That is not something I want to revisit any time soon. I suspect most elders don’t want to see any elder lovin’, given a choice.
‘Stay young. Have more energy, think clearer.’ I don’t have to buy a prescription for that. I just have to get the kids out of the house for the evening. ‘Buy adult toys online.’ My husband did that last time I went out of town and left him alone for three days. It’s called a boat. I was tempted to respond to the lure of how to ‘lose weight while watching TV’ though if that worked, I’d look like Calista Flockhart by now.
If it’s true that ‘Companies will pay for your opinions’ then listen up, spammers of the world. Here’s my opinion, and you can have it for free - Stop Sending Me Junk Mail. It’s annoying, time consuming and I don’t want it, now or ever. If you really believe that ‘Momma needs some lovin’ and you want to ‘Keep her happy’ then please keep your dirty little hands off my Inbox.