My poor email InBox has been feeling neglected of late. Oh, sure, there are plenty of comments from folks and emails from friends, but my online stalkers seem to dwindled and so I’m not getting 13 new emails every hour. On the hour.

So you can imagine my joy to have received an email from Mr. John Obi, Esq., from whom I hadn’t heard in quite some time. How grateful am I for his recent communique? Grateful enough to post it here for you in all its glory, my Venomites.

Dear Sir/Madam,

Oh, my, John. Take a look at that photo. Does it really leave you doubting my gender? I admit, that brown blouse isn’t terribly flattering to my skin tone. Should I wear saffron next time, or perhaps you’d prefer dusky rose? I’ve never really known what “season” I am. Maybe next time I should just go with showing some cleavage so my gender’s more obvious, yes?

I apologize for any inconveniences caused if this mail does not meet your demands,though I do not intend to embarrass you by the contents of this very mail.

Now, Johnny, I confess I am a demanding woman, and one of the things that I demand — yea, what one of my true fetishes — is a man with good grammar. Next time, might I suggest, insert a space prior to your comma. It’s so much more revealing of your true literary talents than, say, a missed period.

While we’re at it, I’m rather difficult to embarrass. That “Venomous” part should have given that much away, at least.

In Confidence and good faith, I know this will come to you as a surprise because you have not received any prior communication from me before now; nevertheless this proposition which I bring to you is for the benefit of both of us.

What, you don’t remember our history? You wrote me three months ago, sweetheart. Also, four months ago, seven months ago and just slightly past thirteen months ago. I’m heartbroken, I am. I thought I was memorable. Obviously, I really do need to include cleavage on the next photo.

I am Mr. John Obi (ESQ), Head of Internal Audit Suisse Credit Finance London, working as part of a bigger team that covers the entire UK region.

I know who you are, hon. Like I said, I can’t believe you don’t remember how passionately you’ve emailed me before. So it saddens me greatly to be the one to tell you that your job is up for grabs. But rest assured, my friend, I will remain as true to you as you are to me.

I have decided to work something out with you based on certain reasons and hope you can be of assistance in this.

Based on “certain reasons”? Oooh, Johnny, your Swiss-Germanic accent just sent shivers up my thigh-high patent leather boot-clad thighs. “Certain reasons”. I can practically hear those sibilant S’s. They’re so… how do you say?… venomous.

At the moment, I am constrained to issue more details about this until your positive response is received.

A man of mystery. I like that. These days there are so many men who, like women, share too many details. Oh, I know, I share TMI myself (that, by the way, is American-speak for “telling it like it is”, something I know you Swiss-Germanic types aren’t really into and yet, like my Persian stalkers also seem to find a turn-on.

On receipt of your indication of interest, I would further details concerning my motive to you.

Well, John Boy, let me just say now that I’m interested. Heart-broken because you don’t remember our repeated passionate exchanges (during which, I confess, I might have seemed a bit “hard to get” due to my instinct of marking your love tomes as spam) but nevertheless I’m interested.

Piqued, even.

If this proposal is acceptable by you, please endeavor to reply me immediately,if not please disregard this email.

By my count it’s been 8 minutes. Is that fast enough for you, John?

I assure you, as an American woman who shares TMI, eight minutes are still too short in my book. Wink, wink. Hint, hint. Nudge, nudge.

Thank you very much for your anticipated response while I expect your reply soonest.

Did you anticipate this? Seriously, John-John? Did you think I’d acknowledge your secretive missive in such a large way? That I’d declare my passionate, enthusiastic “YES!” for the whole wide world to see?

Well, let me just assure you, my timid friend: YES! YES! YESSSSSSS!

Now, what was it that you proposed? Oh, hmm… Well, I’m sure someone as insightful as you’ve proven to be will understand why I now must needs make that a “qualified yes”.

Warmest regards,
John Obi ESQ

Warmest? As in: nice, roasty, toasty warm? As in, the flames of hell are burning beneath your feet and the Devil just informed you that he’s done his best, so now he’s turning you over to the Venomous One?

Oh, yes, Johnny Boy, I am certain your regards are nice and warm in whatever post-equatorial, sand-riddled, A/C-deprived, bass-ackwards country you really live in. (Oh, wait, I just checked. You’re in Malaysia. Well, like I said…).

By the way, I can add that “Esq.” behind my name, too.

Only mine’s legal. And, since you’ve seemed to already have my gender confused, let’s just say it’s literal enough that you should most likely translate it as: She Devil who will ride your ass into hell.

Don’t be a stranger now, John. M’kay?