The van was listed for sale on numerous sites and had received interest in spurts, usually from punk hipsters wanting to be part of the new van-living movement. Just another thing that suddenly became the cool thing to do. To The Van Man, they were just posers. Of course, sometimes the interest was from loony veterans with strange names, like Cosmic Charlie.
"I have a guy coming Sunday to look at it", replied Van Man.
"Ok", retorted the interested party. This was followed by a picture of a dirty bathroom with a mirror reflecting a male's ass. Underneath, a text: "For sure man. When can I come in".
Van Man had not planned on being propositioned for gay sex when he listed his van for sale. He decided to keep radio silence in the hope that the vile texts would cease. They did not.
"When can I come in then?" There seemed to be an aggressive tone in the text. As if the individual was demanding to know when he could come inside the van to rape Van Man.
"I take it you are not interested in the van", replied Van Man, breaking radio silence and not wanting to sound homophobic or biggoted in any way. This was Los Angeles, after all.
"I'm interested in the van and your dick". It was just after nine in the morning on a Friday. Van Man knew only the most depraved are ready to bang anonymously this early in the day.
"How do you like my ass man?", continued the Sexter.
"Brother, I like pussy. But, I'll connect you to a friend". Van Man was careful not to be rude or insensitive to the Sexter. Politeness was key.
"Lol my man. One time thing. We'll never speak on it again." "just try it. I'm pretty tight lol" "How about I come in see the van and we'll take things from there. I have a nice fat ass". The Sexter was now trying to bargain.
"No thank you.", typed Van Man, curious if anonymous gay sex had moved from the back rooms of pornography stores to the "For Sale" pages of Craig's List.
"Hm I bet you think I do this to anyone. I don't lol" "I'm just doing this to you Bc I don't know what you look like" "and it's over text"
"But my friend killed herself yesterday and you have given me a laugh, so thanks for that.", replied Van Man. He had, in fact, been amused. The brazen sleaziness of the Sexter was commendable and would have most certainly amused Swiss Miss. The days prior were filled with shock and sorrow and dark questions. His thoughts were on sad things. And a laugh is a laugh, no matter where you get it.
"Sorry to hear that", replied the Sexter. Perhaps, Van Man had made a profound connection. "Let's fuck lol". Then a picture of an ass crack. Perhaps, not.
Maybe the van was not meant to be sold into hipster slavery. The van gods might have spoken. Maybe he could hold onto the van for a little while longer, just long enough to put some cash together for a new transmission. His return to L.A. had been mired in a haze of dust and tragedy from the long road. Finally, he was beginning to think clearly again. A man without a van was just a man. Nothing more. And The Van Man was more. It took just a bit of sleaze in the world to remind him that we all play a part on this stage of life.