Slutty von Slutwhore is lurking in the wings…

I’m not GONNA give my friends access to my dating apps so they can handle the correspondence and I won’t freeze up and feel like stress vomiting when I try talking to people I WANT to answer.

 

But I’ve definitely considered it.

 

I’m not sure what I’m scared of, exactly, but it’s definitely fear. Of WHAT, Brain? Effort? Failure? Success?

 

Christ. This is gonna be a LONG year in therapy. She’s already told me, “You can just DATE them, you don’t have to have sex with them,” and I…do not understand that boundary. I’ve waited too long — if a man touches me the right way, I’m-a fuck him. I won’t even WANT to, my body will just DO it, and then I’ll feel bad about it, and then we can talk about THAT in therapy. It’s the Circle of Slut Shame, Simba!

This is a perfectly logical life plan.

I have this habit of intending to respond to OkCupid messages, but then I forget about it, or I want to wait until I’m at a computer instead of my phone, and then suddenly a week has passed and I think, “Well, if I really wanted to reply, I would’ve made it more of a priority,” so I just delete the message.

When I told my therapist about this, she said, “Hey, maybe don’t do that? You saved those messages for a reason. Either write back or delete them, but letting them sit in your inbox makes them just another to-do item looming in your brain, making you feel like you’re behind on life and bad at being an adult.”

So, um… Can y’all write these dudes back?

Apparently I have hella issues and emotional walls and I think I’m boring so I don’t want to waste anyone’s time? I didn’t know these things about myself — never go to therapy. “I would’ve made it more of priority” sounds far less tragic, like I’m just such a busy, baller boss bitch that I don’t have time for you people and your penises.

But hey, you know what? Frankly I’m doing these men a favor. If I never answer, they’ll never get any of my Crazy on them, and then no one gets hurt. I’ll just continue hiding in my little Singleton cave and never getting laid and letting these feelings deepen and fester until I’m a crazy, old cat lady who dies alone and the cats eat my face. What’s the problem? The cats will be fed!

(Ahem. Why, yes, it has occurred to me that perhaps I should be in therapy twice a week.)

Slow down, there, Quick Draw…

Entirety of first OkCupid message: “Great smile”

I’m not answering, because it’s not worth engaging an idiot in Delaware who’s wearing Hammer pants in his profile photo. But when you view my profile and send a generic message within the same minute — which OKC shows me — I can tell the only thought you’ve put into your correspondence is looking at my photo and deciding I’d be an acceptable specimen to wet your dick.

And that’s fine. It’s a dating site. People want their dick wet. And I do often enjoy helping them achieve their goals. And I definitely look at men’s photos to determine whether their faces would look good between my thighs.

At the same time, though? Fuck you a little. I at least read profiles first to be sure I’m not coming on to anyone who’s not worthy of me coming on.

This sounds like a job for Captain Subtext!

Seen in a man’s OkCupid profile:

First, “I love a girl that likes to dress up and wear heels. And is open minded.”

Later, “Must wear heels.”

So let me see if I’m reading between these lines accurately: You’re looking for a woman who’ll leave her heels on while y’all have rough sex? Maybe she’ll also leave on her nice dress, which she deliberately wore without panties so you’d spend the whole date imagining how easily you could just bend her over the nearest surface and go to town on her?

*shrug* Aight. I’m down.

I feel as though the Asshole Ratio is pretty even here.

I understand this goes against my general “do unto others” philosophy — I would NOT want this done to me. I feel bad about it, it’s a dick move, and makes me a GIANT asshole.

We all on board? Excellent, ’cause I’m posting this screenshot of an OkCupid message, anyway. There’s too much majesty in it to be confined by a mere retelling. You must behold the glory in its entirety.

Identifying information has been deleted/changed to protect the overly cheerful at 8:goddamn-13 in the morning.

Damn, that’s a lot of emojis when you’re 52. (Or any age, really. But 52 for sure.)

P.S. My profile mentions Carlin’s seven dirty words, but just generally, gentlemen — pro tip? Never lead with farts. I’m still a lady, fuckface.

A man with no face validates mine.

First OkCupid message: “Hi smug, how r u? U r so gorgeous”

Well, look at you, answering your own question! I’m “so gorgeous,” is how I am. See, you don’t need me! You just need to believe in yourself! Good for youuuuu!

He has no photos, and as a general policy I don’t reply to men with no face. You’re on a dating site. If you’re too dumb to know your face might be important, too lazy to upload at least ONE photo (or to type two the extra letters to make REAL words), and so selfish that you’re clearly talking to me on the basis of MY photos because “gorgeous” is all you had to say…

*deep breath*

No.

Masturbation consternation

I was aiming for a quiet, post-work communion with my soulmate, Nachos. But then I saw this, and it was an emergency “Stop, drop, and write” situation. (Not joking: I’m still dressed in work clothes, flopped in dismay on the living room floor, writing this on my phone.) 

Ahem. Ready?

OkCupid tells me I’m an 86% match for a guy whose profile says ONLY that he wants a woman who’ll watch him jerk off (“JO,” to be exact) on Skype. He assures the reader he’s good at holding out, and will finish only when she tells him to.

To his chivalrous credit, he does say he’d also do it in person. *swoon* But he lives in Lahaska, PA, about an hour ass-far north of Philadelphia. Why would I drive that far to watch a guy masturbate? (I love that my first concern is the commute.)

Also, there are no photos in his profile of his face or of his penis — just his fully clothed midsection with a hand resting on his pants-covered junk. How can I possibly know if I’d want to see you do this? I’m sure he’d send them if I asked, but I’m not talking to a dude who’s requesting this and then saying he’s “not physically perfect.” That’s code for “I’m about to watch him wrestle a small and noncommittal dick, possibly in his mother’s basement.”

Would I get to watch his face as well, or is it just a penile situation? Not getting to see his face wouldn’t really do much for me…just a dick gone rogue…

Can it progress to sex? Or are you just looking to indulge that one aspect?

Can I masturbate, too? Or do I have just watch you and then… go home? Do I get anything in return? I know you’ll finish when I tell you to, but that doesn’t feel like enough incentive for me to contact you sight unseen and be like, “Hell. YES. Let’s do this, studhorse.” If I asked nicely, I could probably watch any guy I date masturbate. Then I’d get to see his face when he finishes, and we could go get pizza or something.

I wouldn’t even LET you come, asshat. You should suffer for not being more forthcoming…tee hee…

Honestly, I wouldn’t mind watching a guy pleasure himself once in a while if that’s what worked for him. I’d get to see how he likes to be touched, and I can understand how that’s a kink. I wouldn’t mind being watched, but frankly I can masturbate alone, so you’d best step in eventually. But it’s SUCH a specific thing to create a whole online dating profile for. That’s ALL it says, that he wants to jerk off for a woman. Not even ON — FOR.

I should commend him for pursuing his dream, really.

But wow, you really CAN find anything on the Internet.

Three-fer: Admittedly snap judgments of an OkCupid guy

I’d been talking to this guy on OkCupid, and should’ve known he was a douche when his intro message boasted that his profile was “well-crafted.” Um, yeah, his profile says he’s looking to meet the “girls of my dreams.” I asked about it, and he said it was originally a typo, but he decided to leave it. OK, whatever. I’m not looking to be the girl of anyone’s dreams right now, anyway — let’s roll those dice.

We’re chatting, maybe 10 messages back and forth total, and he asks if there’s anything I want him to know about me. I write three arbitrary things right before I go to sleep, including: “I firmly believe all CVS drive-thrus should also serve fries.” (Come the hell on, that’d be great.)

This morning I wake up to two messages. In them are three questions, which I will answer for you guys, but got him immediately deleted and blocked. I almost replied, “Yeah, we’re done here,” but decided against it. In hindsight, I wish I’d sent the message to smarter friends who could’ve written back and made him cry.

So here are the offending questions. (And hey, this is just my offense. If you’re intrigued, comment or send a message — I’ll tell you his username and you can grab that net and catch that beautiful butterfly.)

1. “Do you go to CVS or McDonald’s often enough that that’s an issue?”
Uhh… yeah. I go to CVS once a month. CVS provides the lovely drugs that keep me:
A) a functional human;
B) focused;
C) not riddled with heinous allergies; and
D) most relevant to you, NOT PREGNANT.

Also, McDonald’s fries aren’t my favorite, but once a month, at a particular time, I will cut you for Wendy’s fries and a Frosty, or an anytime Egg McMuffin, a societal evolution I regard as the Lord personally answering my lifelong prayer. If my occasional fast food habit is an issue, this isn’t going to work. If you offer me fucking kale during my period, you WILL get murdered with a stick.

2. “Why do guys send dick pics to women? I have to assume it’s appealing to some women, but I don’t get it. I’d love to see photos of your boobs, ass, and curves, but I really don’t want to see a photo of anyone’s vagina.”
AHEM. Well, first of all, my vagina is a goddamn work of art. (Kidding. I haven’t looked at the area in years beyond lawn maintenance. It could be the Batcave for all I know.) Vagina pics aren’t my thing, but I know some people who dig them. And if a guy I liked asked for one, and had previously earned access to the region, I would accommodate. I’d probably put makeup on it first, and obsess about its best side, but I’d do it.

But also… I enjoy dick pics, with an important caveat: I have to AGREE to them. I don’t just want to see rogue dick, all superfluous and out of its natural habitat. However, I will happily behold the penis of a literate man who’s said nice things to me and had dinner with me and maybe we’ve made out a little. I’d rather see it in person and THEN a photo, but in a proper setting, I don’t mind seeing the dick that awaits me, and how I’m affecting it.

Plus, not all men do that, and it’s — if I may — a dick move to generalize.

3. “Why do women have photos in their profiles where they’re standing next to other women? Often women who are better looking??? It doesn’t make sense!”
Well. To start, your triple question marks are an assault against God and humanity.

And again, not all women. For a split second I thought he was talking about me, but I don’t do that because my friends are, in fact, cuter than I am. Plus I’d feel weird putting photos of them on a dating site. My photos are of ME: “This is my face, this is my [clothed] body. Can you deal with my Worf wrinkle and my extra 20 lbs? Excellent. Proceed.”

Also, I’ve seen plenty of men do that, too, and I hate it. Not because the other men are better looking (though I’ve definitely wondered, “Who’s your friend?”), but because I don’t want to scroll through a bunch of photos trying to ascertain which guy is you. Your main pic, at least, should be just you.

In addition, “better looking” is relative. Maybe the person looking at that photo thinks the friend is a total bridge troll, and the man/woman in the OKC profile is his/her ideal.

And, again, just as a blanket “fuck you,” I can’t abide generalizing women OR men. I can generalize YOU, though. And you’re a jag.

Stacy’s mom totally DID have it goin’ on.

In less obsessive news…

Intro message from a guy on OkCupid: “Hey honey are u into young guys”

OK, first off, that sounds a little statutory.

Next, dude is 30, so I’m half tempted to write him back and say, “I’m totally into young guys, but yesterday a 20-year-old said he would be down for one-night-only sex — so it’d be like a concert…of dick. So if I were to go with Mrs. Robinson kink, it’d be with him. At least he used punctuation, and at least I’d literally be old enough to be his mother, so we could have the full experience. It’d be downright Oedipal.”

Further, in the words of the immortal Melanie Carmichael/Smooter, “Don’t you ‘honey’ me, honey.”

And finally…30 isn’t that young. I mean, it’s too young for ME, but it’s 10 years, fuckface. I’ve dated 10 years older, it was fine. I’m not Stifler’s mom, man. Slow your roll.

Online dating may cause tiny brain seizures.

This happened the last time I tried online dating, too: After the initial ego boost, once I actually read what people are saying and how stupid most of it is, my brain has this tiny seizure, like, “What the fuck am I even doing? I belong with my Ex. This is absurd, he is my Person, and I’m never finding anyone better. I am going to die alone, or worse, under some 24-year-old townie-fuck douchebag with a naked-except-a-hand-over-his-junk mirror selfie** as his profile pic.

So. There you go, Therapist. Take my money, let’s work this one out.

Kidding. I don’t really need her for this one. I just have to keep reminding myself I don’t have to answer anyone I don’t want to, or do anything I don’t want to. They can’t come GET me, they live in the computer.

Onward. (Or if you prefer, “Excelsior.”)

** Yep, that’s a thing. I’d been on the site for 24 hours and saw three of these tykes, along with several merely-shirtless mirror selfies. Don’t get it twisted, I’m not mad at it — those guys SHOULD be shirtless at all times. But they’re looking for “DTF” girl. (I mean, I AM, but…not like that. I’m a lady, motherfucker. I’ll see you naked when I am jolly good and ready…which, in the grand scheme, really doesn’t take that long. If you can’t wait ’til the second or third date, you’re more than welcome to go fuck yourself. But although I’m not always the most confident in my sexual prowess, I can pretty much guarantee I’m more fun than fucking yourself.)