The Girls’ Guide to Emotional Fort Building

Ah, yes. A key decision in any “relationship” — do I end it now while I’m pretty sure I can handle it, or let it ride until it crashes and burns in the most damaging possible way?

Pfft. JK, it’s not actually a question. Y’all know I’ll suffer for a good story — let’s dance, Feelings!

Kidding. The beauty of having played the He’s Just Not That Into You home game for 2 years a while back is that I can see it easily now. Plus ending the 10-year relationship right before THAT… I mean, it can’t hurt TOO much if this one ends. “We’re done? Oh, OK, cool. I’ll have more time to clean.”

But it turns out the “slut shame” doesn’t come from the sex. It comes from sex being all there is — from me not being feelings-worthy for whatever reason, from being kept around solely for my ability to wet a dick.

I’m not built for that. I don’t need Edward Lewis, but I damn sure ain’t settlin’ for Stuckey. 

I acknowledge the possibility that I’m hormonal and misinterpreting, but I think I’m right. If I can’t tell that you, um, like me, or want to spend time with me, that is legit insane-making for my membranes.

I deleted (not blocked) his number, and, with it, my ability to text him anything belligerent and cunty. He’s still free to contact me, though, so we’ll see what happens.

Hm… Though I guess I probably should’ve seen what happened before I spent the weekend getting myself over this based on these assumptions… Oops. Ah, well. Call it preventive care. 

Must…numb…self-loathing…

Right. The OkCupid guy I messaged yesterday looked at my profile last night, and I just noticed he’s “either deleted or disabled his account.”

And the other guy just never answered.

*nod*

Understood. I am a hideous idiot trollbeast. If you need me, I’ll be on a bridge demanding answers to riddles. (Except I’m dumb, so I probably don’t know the answers to riddles.)

Actually, I take that back — I’m clearly not hideous given the number of shady hoodrats and married guys who’ve messaged to offer a one-night-only impotence extravaganza in my vagina. So I’m at least hot enough to put a dick in. So it’s just smart guys who don’t dig me. So I’m just a moron. Excellent.

I know, I KNOW. It’s fine. Let me have my pity party and I’ll be back to self-love tomorrow. I mean, maybe, I don’t know — I probably suck at clairvoyance as well.

I’m pretty good at martinis, though. I’ll get on that when I get home.

I do not like “Wham bam, thank you, ma’am.” I do not like it, Sam, damn.

OkCupid emails you a little preview whenever you get a new message.

Aaand sometimes that preview is all you need…  
There’s two fucking feet of snow on the ground, shitheel. I’m not going outside for anyone’s dick.

To his credit, his VERY first message said, “Hi I am sam how are you doing​,” so he was totes chivalrous about it. The hotel thing came two minutes later. As I suspect he would.

(Also…”I am Sam?” Nope. Nooope. I didn’t even change his name like I usually do because it was just too good.)

You can get with this, ’cause this is where it’s at.

Last night I ended up sleeping in the same room (different couch) as another single friend of friends — a man who, we established during group conversation, likes to just get laid and be on his merry way.

We’ll just pretend the reason I didn’t even try to take advantage of this fantastic opportunity for commitment-free mutual tension release is that I wasn’t prepared to fuck anyone (alcohol-sleepy and still menstruating) and NOT that he would never get with me because he only bangs super-hot, skinny blondes.

Yes. I like that version better.

Your loss, Bro-seph. I’d rock your world, even half-drunk and near the end of Lady Times.

Let’s get to know each other better. And by “better,” I mean “naked.”

I’ve been tempted to contact an acquaintance of mine and just say, “I think you’d be amenable to sleeping with me, that you’d satisfy me, and not disrespect me OR want to date me after. So… wanna?”

I’d be offended if a guy said that to me, but I suspect, as a woman, it would make me some kind of hero.

That’s not porridge…

I don’t get why this is so difficult. I’m a semi-attractive girl — I’d say a 5, maybe a 6 on a good day. If you like big butts and you cannot lie, you probably couldn’t deny.

There has to be a guy who can sleep with me casually without making me feel like a whore OR like he wants a girlfriend. I’m like a horny Goldilocks: I’ve had too cold and too hot. Can I get the “just right” now?