Dear Wendy, 

This letter refers to your communication dated November 19th, 2019, found in the Spam folder of my Gmail Inbox:

Subject Line: Want to have sex in the Elevator?

Hey there, my shy friend! I want to make your life brighter and more dynamic! My accurate body and tight rear are expecting your fingers, hands and lips. Want me? Write me in my dating profile: Don’t burn your precious time! It’s your fortune! 

In a quest to assess the chances of us indeed having sex in the Elevator, I have climbed the bockety stairs to the darkest attic of the internet to study propositional probability logics. Once able to fend off the mind-bats and acclimatize to the smell of mental mothballs, I feel I got some good work done. I enclose a useful link here, in case you would like to proceed further with your own philosophical exploration of the matter in lieu (at least for now) of a practical one.

In the meantime, please respect that I need further information from you or your representatives so as to move forward on providing an official response to your request. 

Please could you address my concerns below:

1. How accurate is your body? Could you specify which species your body is accurate to? I once saw a giraffe with an accurate body trying to drink from a watering hole. The accurate vertical elongation of both legs and neck resulted in drinking being a most laborious task for said animal, so much so that I wondered why nobody had invented an eco-friendly giraffe-friendly paper straw to fill this somewhat lengthy gap in the market. I would have to mention here too that if your body is giraffe-accurate, perhaps an elevator is not the best location for our encounter unless we were to be on different floors? Which brings me to my next question:
2. Which Elevator? 
3. If you’ll allow, I’d like to return for a moment to the issue of the accuracy of your body. Have I misunderstood by assuming that when you say “body” you refer to the type that both imprisons and transports a living organism? Please correct me if I am wrong. Are you, in fact, a drawing, a lego construction, a playdough masterpiece done by a famous person’s grandchild?
4. Am I on the wrong track entirely concerning your body type? Are you not rather a body of work, an astral body, or even an antibody, perhaps? If it is the latter, that would be swell because I’m finding, as I age, I have somewhat of a weakened immune system. Any help with this would be greatly appreciated. Further to this:
5. How long have your accurate body and tight rear been expecting my fingers, hands, and lips? If you have been waiting for them for a while, I must apologize. I had no idea. I don’t approve of tardiness but sometimes my appendages and I don’t quite get it right to agree. As for my lips, they are loose and, while they may have sunk ships, are certainly not great when it comes to being on time. We as a team—lips, hands, fingers—comprise my less accurate body and it is infrequent that we get anything right.

Oh, Wendy! Even as I write this, I am currently in the midst of a most exquisite display of procrastination. Sadly, I am somewhat of a temporal arsonist — “burning time,” as you so eloquently put it, gives me an inexplicable thrill, akin to what I assume you are looking to provide in the Elevator. 

You have given me pause, however. When you said, “Don’t burn your precious time! It’s your fortune!” I started to wonder. You are right: time is indeed my fortune, the thing I have inherited that is more precious than any other riches known to man or giraffe. Our minutes on earth are like the floors of an elevator: finite, so far as we know. 

Whether we have sex in the Elevator or not, I will look for your dating profile and write “me” in it. Any advice on where to find it would be most useful. I struggle to even find motivation.

I eagerly await your response on this urgent matter—but for now, please know that your revelations on the nature of time and its flammability have given me a greater understanding of what “urgency” is. I have even delved deeper into what “matter” is because of my theoretical ponderings on the nature of your body. 

Wendy, know this: I’m finished with burning time and am off to find something else to burn instead. Would you consider bridges a suitable alternative? 

Sincerely,

My Shy Friend