So I had an ebay addiction.

I discovered the joys of ebay through my shopaholic co-worker, Kristen. It started out innocently enough. Next thing I knew I was bingeing like a bulimic in July. I had stuff arriving every few days. Sam started to get pissed; I still haven't paid off the surround sound DVD home entertainment center.

The fun thing about ebay is that its like gambling without losing. Either you win the thing you want or you don't. No money is lost in the transaction. And its a careful sort of strategizing, as well. I used two different tactics: one (for things I absolutely had to have): the item on the watch list, track it until the last 50 seconds of the bid and then pounce! This worked almost every time. two (cool, but not essential stuff): put in the highest bid I was willing to make and walk away. Super fun stuff -- very addictive.

I *was* burned once -- I ordered a bikini for the trip to Puerto Vallarta. The seller said it was tagged a 6, but it would best fit a 0, 2, or 4. So, I figured that was me, no problem. The bathing suit came, it was beautiful, and it was made for a stripper. It had those teeny-tiny little triangles that are meant to sit on top of your nipples. The bottom was not much more than a thong. And no matter how I tried to tie it, either my ass crack showed in the back or my pubic bone showed in the front. It was totally lame, but at the same time the seller hadn't misrepresented the thing to me, so I really couldn't be pissed. That's the thing about buying things that you have only seen pictures of: when it gets to you it DOES look like the picture, but it also doesn't at all.

Eventually, after I paid too much for a cute little sun dress which I would not have paid more then $15 for in a thrift store, I decided to take a break from buying. Then, I got the bright idea of *selling*, instead!

DIGRESSION: Several years ago, when I was remaking my identity (again) I was casting about for the perfect new defining scent. I read about this quirky/cool British perfumer called Miller Harris and her fragrance, 'terre du bois' sounded like it was made just for me. The fact that it was impossible to buy in the United States (except at Bigelow's in New York) only clinched the deal for me. By happy coincidence right around this time, my mother, in a fit of sentimentality, threw together this trip to Paris for herself and her two daughters. Thorough research bourned that I could find this elusive perfume in a fancy shop called Bon Marche in the Marais. I dragged my sis and mom to this store one afternoon, tore past all the little ladies with their perfectly behaved little white dogs and like the big cloddish American I am, arrived at the perfume counter breathing heavily and sweating. No-one was around and the Miller Harris was all arrranged very prettily on a rotating metal display thing. I reached for the 'terre du bois' expecting the heavens to open up as I raised it to my nose. It was not to be. The perfume was just ok, and I couldn't really imagine wearing it. It was heavy and old-fashioned in its structure and I was very disappointed. As, I turned to shove my wrist under my sister's nose for her opinion, my map-and-bottled-water-stuffed backpack crashed up against the display case and knocked several bottles of the 100 euro perfume into smashed shards of etched glass and a stinky maloderous puddle on the white tile floor. Well, you can bet the little shopgirls appeared then! In my flustered apologetic ugly American way, I felt it would be rude (incroyable!) to not buy the fucking perfume considering I had destroyed at least 3 bottles of the stuff.

When I returned to SF, the perfume smelled even more absurd on me. I waited for Sam's input and when I saw her wrinkling her nose and saying, Did you get some new stinky hair product?, I knew that I would never wear the damned stuff. The fucking 'terre du bois' sat on the dresser unused ever since.

With the realization that ebay could assist me in a possible recoup of some of my losses as well as making someone (poor sucker) happy, I decided to put it up for auction.

The transacation went well, although I had some anxious moments involving the ban on sending potentially combustible liquids with alcohol content (perfume?!?) through the US mail. The buyer was a super-cutey living in Japan, and we had a nice correspondence during the entirety of the sale. She even appreciated the Afro ken stickers with which I decorated the shipping box.

Other sales since then have not gone so well. In the past, and less so now but still present, is a preoccupation with sexy shoes. I wouldn't go so far as to say it is a fetish -- I don't masturbate feverishly at the mere sight of a pair of fuck-me-pumps -- but if left unchecked, this "compulsion" can do a great deal of damage to my bank balance not to mention my poor blister-scarred toes. Now, back when I was a good deal wilder and singler than I am these days, I had occasion to wear super-stilletto platform stripper heels more or less regularly. But in the 7 years which have transpired since then, my modest collection of these has done little more than collect dust on the top shelf of my shoe closet. I decided to take the plunge and see how it would feel to sell them.

What became interesting is that in the world of women'shoes---platforms, wedges---dancer/stripper/sexy on ebay, I soon noticed a phenomenal trend. 'Brand new' stipper platforms were doing a fair business -- between $20 and $50 seemed to be the going rate; one or two lackluster bids were tossed around (mostly in the tranny sizes of 11 and over). In the 'gently used' category, the interest was hard to determine; priced between $5 and $10) certain shoes would garner several bids, others, seemingly just the same, would be ignored. The fiercest bidding was clearly going on in a perplexing third realm -- the 'well-used' variety. Indeed, the seller would clearly indicate these shoes 'have been worn a lot and have a little life still in them.' The pictures would show a pair of battered and scuffed garden variety platforms. These shoes were setting off intense bidding wars with multiple bids into the $20 range. Careful investigation proved my suspicions correct; these shoes were the focus of a certain type of fetishist -- lovers of used stripper's shoes! Who knew? These men were buying as many of these tired and stained fetishistic objects in the dozens, in every size, shape and color! I love the image of some secret but determined stripper shoe fetishist stumbling upon the nirvana of ebay. Pre-ebay he had no doubt been forced to endure a small bit of humiliation in begging an exhausted dancer (leaving out the back door of a club after a long night) to possibly, please sell her old heels. Did he have a hidden shrine in his house? Were the shoes all on special backlit shelves, arranged in some artful and obscure system? Did the shoes get masturbated upon once and then disposed of or did some of the shoes, possessing a certain smell or stain, gain favor and status? Did he hate the other desperate bidders, whom he would come to know and detest, as they all clucked over who would win the latest pair up for auction?

Imagine my pleasure, when shortly after I placed my own shoes up for auction I was contacted by one these guys! He was very forthright -- he wanted a picture of my feet in the shoes and a picture of the inside of the shoe. Well, I was happy to oblige. How wonderfully exciting, I thought, painting my toe nails a tasteful pink. I wondered what his particular passion was -- did he find shoes he was interested in, jerk off to them as he saw them on the computer, and then buy them? Or did he just need to get the visual aid of the feet in the shoes first -- before he bought them -- and then jerk off on them while they were in his presence? Maybe, I could sell him all of my shoes! Either way -- the titillation was exquisite.

And then -- the jerk didn't bid on them! I felt a great sense of rejection, at first. Maybe he only likes red nail polish? Maybe he didn't like the tattoo on my left foot? Maybe he could tell I hadn't gotten my legs waxed recently? And then I was indignant. Maybe this guy goes around copping free pictures of women's feet for his own jerk-off purposes? I felt used. He was chuckling to himself over his freely "spilled" milk, at my expense, the fucker. Regardless of his motivations, I was seriously bummed out.

It can be stressful and ego-brusing to consider that maybe no-one will want to buy your item. But in the end, a slightly bitchy girl in Pennsylvania bought the holographic and lucite pair, paid promptly but sent me a nasty email about my shipping costs being too high, and then never wrote any feedback. The black marabou mules were getting some good hits -- a couple of collectors and a girl who had a thing for Victorian knock-off jewelry -- when out of the blue this newbie upped the ante to $20.50 and won.

The winner, one aptly-named 'absorbing_man,' turned out to be a complete freak. He e-mailed me once, after winning the bid, letting me know that he planned to send me a money order as soon as he got back home from his vacation. I wasn't sure why he needed to be at home to send a money order, but whatever. He was pleasant enough. After a week had gone by with no money order in the mail, I e-mailed him to check in. I kept the tone very friendly. I didn't hear back. A week later, I e-mailed him again. This time, I was pissed. I wrote a non-accusing but no-bullshit e-mail: "What happened? I still haven't heard from you or received any form of payment. I am assuming that this means that you have reneged on your bid. If I don't hear from you by the end of the day, I will relist the shoes and leave you negative feedback. I'm every disappointed, since there were other people who were bidding on the shoes, and I've wasted almost 3 weeks waiting for you to respond.". Even though I asked him to respond to me that day or I would relist the shoes, he didn't contact me until 3 days later with an oblivious one line e-mail: "did the $$$ come yet???? if not then the post office fucked up..............". Obviously, it was too late. I responded: "No, I haven't received any money. I e-mailed you twice to check in with you about what was going on. When I didn't hear back from you, I assumed you had bailed. After waiting more than 3 weeks to get any response from you, I went ahead and re-listed the shoes. I'm sorry if there was a misunderstanding, but you should have checked in with me sooner. I'm moving
and don't have a lot of time to wait. In general on ebay if the seller hasn't received payment within 10 days it is assumed that the buyer has reneged on their bid. In the future, if you continue to buy on ebay I would recommend getting a paypal account. I always pay for my purchases that way, and it cuts down on these kinds of problems.". His hugely offensive response several hours later: "fuck u bitch ............... drop dead".

I am still baffled as to this guy's intentions. What a fucking weirdo. If he really had sent the money, I should think he would have made mention of that rather than cursing me out. But unsurprisingly, more than a month later, I still haven't received anything from him at all. I'm petrified that the bastard is going to leave me negative feedback thereby destroying my 100% rating. What a fucker.

I relisted the shoes, and they just sold today for $18.25. To someone in the U.K.

I'm not sure if I will continue with my ebay sales. The emotional rollercoaster is pretty intense for a simple business transaction. It's crazy to think of the people who make their living from ebay auctioning. They must be made of steel.