Another "Grifster" Story, This Time With Pirates

The hipster grifter is getting so much press, clearly she needs a nickname. From this point onward, she’s the “Grifster.”
Here’s yet another tale of Kari Ferrell’s exploits detailing her fondness for the phrase “I wanna give you a handjob with my mouth.” Turns out some dude named Chris Giganti made out with her, despite finding her a bit chubby and pimply, not to mention sketchy and borderline insane. But what do you expect, when you post a personals ad that says “Semi-professional buccaneer looking for pirate girl with eye patch and glasses for adventures including, but not limited to, commandeering ships, burying and subsequently digging up treasure, drinking, and other general swashbuckling,” as Chris Giganti apparently did.
From invertedsoapbox.com

Being new to New York, I decided to post a personals ad on Craigslist pretending to be an unemployed pirate looking for a three-eyed hipster girl (glasses plus eye patch = three eyes) [read the ad here - Tim]. I wrote it with a mixture of sincerity and ludicrousness, with the secret hope that someone interesting and attractive might actually come across it and respond.
Most of the responses were from porn sites looking for subscribers. But then I got this very well-written note from someone named Korean Abdul-Jabar, listing about seven reasons why I should want to get to know her, signed Kari.
And I have to admit, they were pretty compelling reasons. She talked about being into music and science, and she said she had a degree in physics. She attached a photo, and the tattoo on her chest of a phoenix was nearly as enticing as the pixie crop and the mild look of benevolent disdain. She included a line indicating her enjoyment of giving handjobs via mouth — a phrase already on its way to Brooklyn infamy — that was both provocative and hilarious in its directness.

Things turned strange a couple of days later. The day we were supposed to meet [April 2], we were texting back and forth, had decided to go to the Bob Ross Tribute in the Lower East Side instead of having drinks in Park Slope, when out of nowhere she sends me a message that something terrible had happened.
‘I’m so screwed. Ughhhhhhh. My debit card was stolen, money is missing, account frozen, no money, rent due.’

That’s when he got an invite to her apartment:

When I got to her apartment at about 11 p.m., this cute Asian girl opened the door. She was chubbier in real life than her digital pictures had suggested. Her hair was shorter, and her face rounder. She was cute, but not pretty, with a face marked by pimple scars. On the elevator up, I joked that it was brave of her to invite a strange boy over, and that I could only assume she was going to tie me up and rob me….
[we] started looking up voyeurism sites online, the sort of webcam things that mostly teenage girls are on or watch, except for a few adult couples who are just into that sort of thing. There’s generally no nudity or sex, just people talking, and perverts making chat comments about wanting 15-year-old girls to take their clothes off. She went back and forth between that and the end of the Jazz game, and since then, I’ve wondered how much of an effect their loss had on the way the rest of our night progressed.
After the game was done, we were watching a couple on webcam, and she was criticizing the performers for being dull. She said we could do a better job, but that we’d probably end up just having sex on camera. It was around that point that I kissed her. Nothing too intense, just a kiss, and a hand in her hair.
Kari smiled, and stopped, and said, ‘I’m kind of trying to take things slow right now.’ I asked her what she meant, and she said she didn’t know. So I ran my hand through her hair again, and said, ‘OK.’
A few minutes later, I got up to leave. She walked with me downstairs, and hugged me. I kissed her again, a perfunctory thing, and she said I was sweet. It was 2 a.m.
‘I’ll talk to you soon,’ I said, walking out the door.
[...] I wondered if I would have slept with her, if she had wanted to. I wondered why I would kiss a girl whom I wasn’t attracted to. And, over the next couple of weeks, I wondered what she was doing a few times, and I told a couple of friends what had happened. But it wasn’t much to talk about, just another in a long line of fairly uninspiring quasiromantic interactions.

Props to Tim Donnelly for the link and for the term Grifster.

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