I’m new to this website. The first thing I did was look at the “Men Seeking Women” section. I saw “BBC 4 Lovers” in the subject heading of one man’s advert and naively thought, “Oh good, a cultured man. This isn’t going to be nearly as sleazy as I imagined.” Then I opened the ad and was embarrassed and—yes, I’ll admit it—a little shocked to discover that “BBC 4” referred to a sexual organ of Afro-Caribbean origin being offered generously to any and all interested parties, and NOT to the TV channel that I like to watch. So—that tells you a bit about what kind of person I am, I hope!

I’m also married, with children, about to turn forty. I want something exciting in my life that no one else knows about. Not necessarily something sexual, not necessarily an affair, but definitely something I will need to keep secret from everyone in my life. Maybe even something a little bit dangerous.

I would love to hear from anyone who thinks he might like to be my secret. A man who, once he becomes my secret, won’t allow me to keep any secrets from him. I want someone who would leave no stone unturned in his determination to find out every single secret thing there is to know about me. I promise I will reciprocate.

If you’re the man I’m looking for, then I want to hear from you. And . . . if you also happen to like BBC4, the television channel, that would be great too! Maybe one day we could watch it together—in secret, of course!

•  Location: London

•  It’s NOT OK to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests

Posted: 2010-06-03, 23:10PM GMT

CHAPTER 5

Wednesday, July 3, 2013

“I GOT NOTHING,” SAYS Ethan bitterly. “No marks. Even though I definitely got four of the five questions right! I should have gotten eight out of ten. The last question wasn’t even a question!”

“Yes, tragedy, tragedy,” Sophie drawls. “Can you bloody well shut up about it now? I can’t hear the TV.”

“Mum, Sophie just—”

“Yes, I heard her, Ethan. I’m standing right next to her chair. Sophie, don’t say ‘bloody.’ It’s a swear word.” I manage to recite my parental line of dialogue without fluffing it or sinking to the floor in a sobbing heap. I need Ethan and Sophie to be as easy and unobtrusive as possible for as long as there’s a strange man following me and police officers suspect me of murder. Unfortunately, I can’t explain this to them. I don’t want to; I want to have as much energy as their petty little dramas and fights require of me, not to be so consumed by my own ongoing crisis that there’s nothing left of me.