Set the controls for the heart of the sun.
Hey there Leonard,

Man, I really need your advice! The other night I was chatting with a dude that I haven’t actually ever met and, well, um things got a bit hot and then we ended up pedalling away together over the phone! It was like real rad fun!

But here’s the thing Leonard; he might want to meet up in person! And, well I kinda made out I’m a top of the range Avanti when in real I’m more of an old 70s Raleigh Chopper with speed wobble issues & a real flaky paint job!

Should I go ahead and meet him?

Ms Town Bike


Ms Town Bike, thanks for calling.

Your predicament is an understandable one, but for two reasons I think it’s overstated.

Let’s start with your misrepresentation. We live in a funny old world, TB. You won’t find Leonard Lovespoke on Facebook, but that doesn’t mean I’m not part of the sphere. That whole damn website is predicated on misrepresentation. Our online self is nothing more than a digital replica–a certified true likeness, but a fragile and meaningless one.

Check me out: I look great from these angles, and don’t you just adore my razor sharp wit that hits all the right marks? Here I am with my immensely stylish friends living the adventure life at the weekend. Isn’t my stupid duck face hilarious and ironic? And yet we don’t discover photos of ourselves lying awake at night, vulnerable and alone, wondering if anyone will truly love us. That’s funny, you know, but not in a “ha-ha” way.

So there’s that.

The second thing is: who doesn’t love a Raleigh Chopper? I’ll be the first to admit that my standards are not unassailable. But that’s because none are. I spend my days surrounded by various iterations of the pretty young woman, TB, and to be frank with you she bores the hell out of me.

Kundera gave it to her straight once: a woman who is conscious of her beauty and tries to emphasize it with a conspicuous indifference to everything that is not her. And that was right after he referred to the paradigm woman as merely the sum total of a set of abstract instructions. Lacking charm because she’s unreal. Three in a row. He was on fire that day.

So where does that leave us? We act tough in front of our friends, and demand that our women spread across the bed like goddesses–classy and assertive, but also dirty and submissive when we say so. And behind closed doors too, right?

Get real.

Let us at a burnt-out old Raleigh Chopper and we’ll tear off down the road, grinning and hollering like some fresh idiot. Get us alone in the bedroom with a woman who won’t appear on magazine covers and we ain’t gonna turn up our noses. If we’re worth our salt we’ll get under the covers and start working up a heady brew of sticky lust. Just like good boys should.

There’s fun to be had, Ms. TB, and if he ain’t going to give it to you someone else will. Your misgivings shouldn’t be a barrier.

Kisses from the real world,



If you need some life and/or love advice, have a burning relationship issue or just want to know about the birds and the bees, email Leonard then sit back and wait for the knowledge to set you free.


2 Responses

    1. Just the shallow scratchings of a man dogged by pretext, floating his philosophies like oil atop a sea of hollow fragments. While I sit here in my plain wool jumper, drinking tea and believing that regular women are sexy enough, perhaps your world view is inconvenienced. For that, I suppose I ought to apologise.

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