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.

#NoPants for the win.

dress 2.00.39 PM.jpeg

One of the many things I love about being a woman: I’m at work, wearing a dress similar to this one.

So basically I’m, like, six strategic seams away from wearing lingerie or a long tank top in public, and everyone’s totally fine with it.

“I’m gonna dress you up in my [self] love…”

And speaking of party dresses…

Whenever you put on a piece of clothing, look in the mirror, and think, “Is that MY body? GodDAMN, I want to have sex with myself!”, you need that garment in your life.

Perfect mindset for tonight’s family party, no? (Hush, there’ll be other people there.)

Via LOFT:Screen Shot 2016-06-10 at 5.14.51 PM

Boosting morale and apparently also your dick

So, hey, Creepy Guy From Another Office in my Building to Whom I’ve Only Ever Said ‘Hi’ in a Small Talky Sense…

I have not “been on a diet.”

I have not “lost weight.”

I DO “look good,” but it’s pretty gross that you said ALL that while passing me in the hall. I realize I can’t get you to stop appraising my body, but it’d be SUPER great if you could stop reporting your findings aloud.

Worse, I said “Thank you,” because I’m an asshole, and am now wondering what kind of goddamn hambeast I looked like before. (I look fine, it’s just my dress — sundresses are very kind to my body.)

By the way, yes, I do think I’d be this pissy if it were an attractive man who said it. Because you brought my weight AND dieting into your “compliment,” implying my weight until today had been somehow suboptimal. So fuck you twice-baked.

P.S. By the way, dicknuts — depression, anxiety, and stress can also cause weight loss. In my case, so can being on drugs that screw with your appetite and hopefully prevent you from going crazy. But hey, I’m thrilled I’m able give you your Monday lunchtime semi. I’ll go find out who I speak to about adding “fluffer” to my business card.

Judge not, lest ye be an asshole

One of my OkCupid photos was taken in a pin-up-inspired boutique I went to with friends. I tried on a dress that fit better than any glove, accentuated all my best bits, and looked STUPID-good. But I couldn’t rationalize spending $130 on it, so I asked my friends take a photo.

I added the pic to OKC, captioned: “Taken in a fitting room. I didn’t buy the dress. Because I am an idiot.”

Today I get a first OKC message from a guy saying, “Yes you should have bought that dress…” That’s the whole message.

I go to his profile, because he’s attractive enough, and his FIRST sentence is, “Only thing that seems to matter is how one looks on here.”

Oh, OK, so you’re saying you don’t like being judged only on appearance? So despite my completely-filled-in profile with many non-appearance-related conversation starters, you went with…commenting only on my appearance?

You do that math, dearie. I’ll wait…

And dammit, I SHOULD have bought that dress. I can’t even believe that’s my body — I am cute as fuck.

P.S. He sent a followup message 20 minutes later, saying, “That was a compliment. .. you’re gorgeous. … ”

Um, I KNOW it was a compliment, or at least I know that’s what you were going for. Do you think I’m too pretty to know how words work? Do I owe you a “thank you?” Go fuck yourself with your ellipses, and why the SHIT are you ALSO using periods? That’s not how any of this works!

*pant* *pant* *pant*

…Ahem. What mood swing?

Working out my issues

Doctor’s orders to exercise more came not a moment too soon. First, it’s 100-and-ball-sweat degrees outside, so I’ve been living in dresses, and the insides of my thighs look like I have fucking scabies. (And there’s still a whole lotta East Coast summer to go.)

But also, someone just sent me photos from the family barbecue — there’s one of me holding Baby Cousin, and it looks like I’m ready to birth his next playmate. Nope. Nooope. 

(I mean, I did get hit on that day, so I couldn’t have looked THAT bad. But dude also seemed very surprised I didn’t have kids, so maybe I just have a stereotypical “Mom Bod” now? Outstanding.)