Oh, cool, my trust issues got reinforced!

Because I have no impulse control, I sent a Facebook message that he saw an hour ago and didn’t answer, so… I guess that’s my answer. (Ahem…I may have also sent a follow-up. Also seen and unanswered.)

So I’m not being used for sex, but I DO trust people too easily and I AM a shit judge of character. Couldn’t even assemble the balls to be like, “Yeah, we’re done”?


(For the record, I was right — hurts a little, but I know it’ll pass.)

Weight a minute…

I’ve talked about diet and exercise here 100 times before, so I’m sorry I’ve been Captain Do-Nothing. But I was chatting with my lady contingent, and we all seem to have had some form of weight-related trauma this week.

My clothes have gone from “saucily clingy” to “Oh, honey…,” I’m always tired, and even if I got off the couch to exercise, I’d probably collapse within 5 minutes. Plus I couldn’t donate blood today because my iron levels are too low, as if my steady diet of animal crackers and barbecue chips isn’t providing sufficient nutrients (pfft).

My friends have similar concerns. There’s a general consensus that although we are obviously sexy as fuck at any weight, exhaustion and ill-fitting clothing aren’t as much fun as you’d think.

So. To quote one friend: “We can do this. We are a formidable trio of badass bitches, and we can do anything we set our minds to.”

^ Now, I understand that statement is not WHOLLY true. I seem incapable of getting over relationships, sticking to a budget, or performing neurosurgery. But I can sure as fuck eat a carrot and take a walk now and then. (Well, as soon as Philly isn’t so humid that it feels like we’re being suffocated by ball sacks. But indoor workouts are a go.)

“Let’s do that. Let’s do EXACTLY that.”

So here’s a thing a purportedly adult man decided it’d be perfectly acceptable to say to a woman in a first OkCupid message on a Saturday morning:

“Hiya. Would you be interested in getting great oral? Or at least a great make our session?”

A few things:

1. I can’t decide if he remembers he sent me the FIRST intro message 2 weeks ago and said only, “Hiya. LOL @ a relatively decent command of the English language. That’s not asking much!” (Response to bit of my profile.)

Is this supposed to be a followup after that went unanswered, like maybe he’s just switching up his game? Or does my profile somehow convey that half the reason I’m dating is because I can’t go down on myself, and he’s like, “My direct approach will swiftly lead to this woman sitting on my face?”

2. You went with “hiya,” huh? Twice? Right. *nod*

3. Assuming you could spell “make out”…we’re 40. Really? I’m gonna get Date Pretty for a “make out session?” Would this be before or after your mom drives us to take the SATs? “Naw, man. Naw. Shit, naw, man. I believe you’d get your ass kicked sayin’ somethin’ like that.”

4. Can you even go down on a woman when you’re obviously made entirely of balls?

He made me an offer I could absolutely, 100% refuse. 


I just got an OkCupid intro message…from a 6’3″, “overweight” (his word choice) “Happily Married” man, with a single Photoshopped profile photo that obscures his face and shows none of his body, asking if I’d be into some “non-committal intamcy” (his spelling error).

This is his entire self-summary: “Happily Married, I just enjoy more, like any man.”

Hmmm… You know, enticing as you’ve made all this, I’m probably good on that for a lifetime.

I do appreciate the offer to fuck me and then go away — sometimes I think that’s all I need. But I’m a LADY, dicknuts. You have to come correct (heh) and supply me at least a few real photos of what I’d be working with before I’d even BEGIN to consider this. If I can’t see your face, how am I supposed to know if I want to sit on it?

Honestly. Whatever happened to chivalry?

Also…”non-committal intimacy?” You are a grody bastard whose wife won’t bang him anymore, possibly because you’re on a dating site hustlin’ for some strange. Own it.

NB: If that’s what you’ve agreed to in your marriage, you go ahead and get yours. I’ve actually briefly considered similar offers from other, more forthright men. This dude just had a bit of the sketch on him.

Also, nothing wrong with “overweight.” Half that weight is probably just his giant balls.

WordPress is watching you. 

WordPress is kind enough to track the search terms that lead people to my page.

Here are a few:

  • “Miranda Lambert slutty” (If by “slutty,” you mean “fabulous.”)
  • “Kerry Washington receiving oral sex” (I wish I didn’t want to see this, but I’d totally watch for at least a few minutes.)
  • “Anal smug” (Nooope.)
  • “americanwomanfuck” (Yes, please.)
  • “woman on top sex positions” (yes, please, pretty please?)
  • “glad I don’t have balls” (Always.)
  • “Netflix and chill pajamas” (THAT’S THE DREAM!)

I love you all, you depraved bastards.

Better sleep via balls on my face. 

We interrupt my “guided meditation for insomnia” to report that the soothing Australian man’s voice just told me the “ball of peace” I’d been instructed to imagine rolling all over my body — including letting it gently massage my palms and fingers — has just “split into 1,000 tiny balls” that I am supposed to “feel rolling around, massaging every muscle in your face.”



Peaceful balls. 

On my face.

It never occurred to be I’d be too juvenile to meditate. Too high-strung, maybe, definitely too squirrelly. But, hey, no one said anything about balls on my face. Who can relax with balls on their face? I have questions. 

“Your cheeks… chin… mouth… teeth… tongue…”

Wait, what? I’m really against using my teeth on balls unless it’s specifically requested, which, P.S., it’s never been. I am not subtle enough to dabble there. When I bite, I tend to leave marks. Basically what I’m saying is that I can’t be trusted with balls, even in the meditative sense.

And 1,000 of them?! Shiiiiiiit. At least they’re peaceful. I’d hate to have 1,000 angry balls on my face. 

But OK. I’ll try the balls. I need balls, I guess. I hope the Australian knows what he’s getting his into here.

Well… At least I don’t have balls. 

I like being a woman. We’re pretty great. Go team and all. But I envy a few things about men.

First, obviously, the penis is brilliant. I wish I always had access to one. I would name him George and hug him and pet him and squeeze him (gently).

A second, semi-related envy: I’m pretty sure men don’t often have to wonder, “Is this the regularly scheduled bleeding from my genitals? Or is it one of those times it’s just for funsies, or because I’m dehydrated or played too rough during sex?”

Then again… If a man’s genitals are bleeding, that’s probably really bad. For me it’ll probably just sort itself out.

It reminds me of a Ron White bit: “I’m not making light of women’s periods. I would never do that. That’s serious stuff. If that happened to me one time, I’d be in the hospital. It wouldn’t be any of this nonchalant, ‘Oh, I’m spotting.’ FUCK THAT. I’d be running down the road like my hair was on fire, screaming, ‘My balls are bleeding, my balls are bleeding!’”

Speaking of which, balls are pretty ridiculous. I’m glad I don’t have those.