Ix-nay on the “vajayjay”

Right, so… I’m really gonna need one of you to come kill me..

How ‘bout NOga?

I didn’t THINK I was struggling with mental health, until I saw this and thought, “Oh, OK, sure. Meanwhile, YOU please consider some gentle kissing of my ass.”

“Next thing ya know, Shorty got low, low, low, low…”

“Hey, Brain? I’m not sure what’s happening here, but… You realize shopping online for things you don’t need with money you don’t have isn’t going to make you feel better, right?”

“Are you sure? Because I REALLY feel like it might.”

“The line is your belt.”

I had lunch with my dad yesterday and tried to explain where the line is between him calling our server “honey” because he’s old and that’s what old people do, and some random middle-age fuckface calling ME “honey” on the subway because he’s a cretin.

But this morning it occurred to me — the line is your belt, Dad. You call a woman “honey” with your brain or your heart (ie, the bits ABOVE your belt)? COOL — fatherly.

You call her “honey” with your dick? NOT cool — Molester Uncle.

It’s not the word. It’s the smarm.

Nope, you ruined it.

I saw a guy on Bumble I might like to get to know better, but his profile said “SB/SD welcome.”

I am An Old and had NO idea what that meant. So I Googled it at work, which is how you should always learn about something you’ve never heard of that’s pretty likely to be some freaky sex shit.

Not REALLY, but turns out it’s “sugar baby/sugar daddy,” and…ew.

Dude, I just wanna fuck you — why you gotta make it weird?

The only way I need YOU to pamper me is by going down on me for a respectable length of time. I can handle my own…spa treatments or jewelry or whatever the hell.

Plus, I think I’m too old to be a “sugar baby.” I threw up in my mouth a bit just typing it. 🤢

“Diamonds are a girl’s best…wait, is that cake?”

I’m listening to Michelle Obama’s audiobook, and she’s describing how Barack proposed to her in a restaurant. The server brought the dessert plate and lifted the fancy lid, and there was “a dark velvet box where the chocolate cake was supposed to be.”

And, OK, fine — yay, congrats, mazel, etc.

But also, um… You’re still gonna bring my cake, right? It’s just backstage somewhere?

I feel like she really glossed over the important part.

My needs are simple

I mean… I don’t go to friends’ parties SPECIFICALLY so I can hook up with their friends, but I’m not gonna lie, it does eliminate some of the legwork. Like, OK, I already know you’re not a serial killer or a Trump supporter. Neat. What else ya got?

What could you POSSIBLY want from me?

If there’s something weird that CAN happen with an ex-boyfriend, that weird thing is going to happen to me.

“Hey, what’s up, we never actually DATED 15 years ago, we just slept together, and never spoke again after I told you that needed to stop. But sure, by all means, send me a Facebook message request (because we’re not FB friends) that’s just the automated wave.”

I dated…SO many weirdos, you guys. And it’s ALWAYS the weirdos. No ex I WANT to hear from ever contacts me.

Also, I should mention that HIS WIFE has viewed my LinkedIn profile at least three times over the years. Maybe I’m in the running to be their guest star. (🤞🏼🤞🏼🤞🏼!)

The City of Brotherly Leave Me the Fuck Alone

I wonder how many men have ever felt the need to re-route their walk home because, while it’s LIKELY the creepy subway dude who’d referred to them as both “honey” AND “baby” had the same simple, innocuous thought they did, and decided to walk the mile back to their mutual neighborhood rather than wait another half hour for the next bus, the fact remains he WAS walking a short distance behind them for a bit, and they can really never be SURE…

Also, what the hell? My therapist ASSURED me my emotional walls were so high that men couldn’t even see me. Aside from that one dude, I’d been walking no more than 5 minutes before two other men felt the need to say “hi” to me.

Um… Did I get hotter? Or, more likely, did my self-esteem dip a little lower today and y’all can just smell it? Jesus Christ, leave me alone.

Oh, right. ACTUAL self care. Shit.

“Ugh, what is WRONG with me?!”

“The inevitable and familiar consequences of not taking care of yourself in the ways you know you need to?”

“…Oh, BALLS.”

I guess I have some things to do tomorrow. FINE. 🙄