Lena Dunham is the subject of a seriously creepy and bizarre Craigslist post in which an alleged ex spills on their "relationship" in an epic, fictionalized (?) diatribe.
The post in Craigslist's "Missed Connections" section could be called "fan fiction" or just plain "stalking," though some think it may have come from a real ex.
Posting the whole thing here would require another server for THG.
It's that long. It's also oftentimes graphic, with lines such as this:
"To get you out of my head, I stripped to my boxers and watched porn. But I couldn't get it up. No matter what I watched."
Nice. Not that the guy doesn't have a softer side, though. There are also parts of the rant that border on being listlessly romantic, such as:
"You know me. With girls like that I generally talk too much, or keep looking sideways to hide my nose. But something happened that night. Maybe the bartender put something in my drink. All I know is that I entered a trance-like state. The usual desperation that I emit like cartoon stink lines gave way to an easy confidence. My jokes landed. My stories charmed. My eyes made contact. I even listened in a way that made her feel heard. It was amazing. For a few short hours, I was the guy I always wanted to be. I wish you could’ve seen it."
And then there's this disturbingly hilarious account of his courtship with the girl who would go on to be named the Emmys' Worst Dressed in 2013:
We started hanging out. You showed me your short films. I remember that one where you got naked in the fountain and brushed your teeth until the campus police made you stop. I thought it was cool how you didn't mind stripping naked in public like that (unlike me, who refused to even take his shirt off at the beach so our friends wouldn't see my backne). But I didn't get it. It's a girl brushing her teeth in a fountain. What was I missing? I knew your parents were downtown artists who painted men with dildo faces or whatever, so maybe it was supposed to be avant-garde. I never understood that stuff, I just pretended to in college so I'd seem more intellectual. Did Judd Apatow get it?
The first time you came over I asked this film major if I could borrow his John Cassavetes DVDs. I'd never seen a Cassavetes movie but thought he'd be the kind of guy you were into. So I left the cases lying around my room like I'd just binge watched them. I hoped you'd notice, but it never came up. Instead you flipped through my high school yearbook, asking me which girls I made out with, and then reading their inscriptions aloud. Later you gave me a blowjob and told me to finish on your neck.
When I said that might be degrading, you just sighed and said, 'Consider our orgasms a politics-free zone.' We never actually talked about being in a relationship. We just tacitly agreed to one when we started f--king without condoms."
I knew I wanted to end things after college but couldn't find the courage. Instead I became passive-aggressive. Like at Jack's party in Red Hook. It was a million degrees out and his apartment was like fifty blocks from the subway. By the time you arrived, that Les Mis Cosette shirt you always wore had huge pit stains. I could tell you were self-conscious and needed reassurance. But when you asked me if anyone would notice, I said, 'Yeah probably, it's pretty gross.'"
Now, that's poetic.