Beautifull of shit

I don’t think I ever roll my eyes harder than when a man on OkCupid comes at me with “Hello beautiful” (<– Lack of punctuation his, not mine.)

First, I HAVE a name. It’s in my profile. Twice.

Also, I’m 41, so please don’t make me quote Meghan Trainor: “Call me beautiful, so original, tellin’ me I’m not like other girls…”

I’m cute, dude. It’s OK, I know my lane. “Beautiful” seems to be some sort of résumé keyword men* say to average-looking chicks, assuming we all want to hear it and it’ll fast-track them into our draw’s.

BTW, it hadn’t occurred to me that “not like other girls” was a line until I heard this song. In hindsight, it makes sense—I am a special little lady snowflake…just like everybody else. My deep-seated desperation to feel unique is probably evident, so of course men would use it to infiltrate.

P.S. If I ever write a book, I’m calling it “Little Lady Snowflake.”

*SOME men. #NotAll. I know.

“Hi! My name is [huh?], my name is [what?]…”

My username on OkCupid is SmugWrites, but with my actual name.

The first line of my profile is, “Hi, I’m Smug.” (Actual name.)

So obviously I get a message this morning: “Hi I’m ben,what’s your name?”

Half an hour later, Ben sends a follow-up: “?” (Yep. Just the question mark.)

I reported this to a teacher friend who summed it up nicely: “Ben doesn’t read for comprehension.”

Y’all didn’t need to hear this.

I know it’s a common name, but it still amuses my brain sometimes when I talk to my coworker Rob and vividly remember a very different Rob who really (REALLY) liked hearing his name in combination with “Fuck me harder.”

I really wish I’d said that because I’m super smooth in bed and intrinsically attuned to my partner’s needs. But really, the first time I said it I was just bored. Thankfully most orders a woman gasps while hovering around orgasm sound fairly sexy — I could’ve said “Let’s get pancakes later, Rob” in that voice and it probably would’ve helped him along. But I’m glad he was happy, and it got me to my destination as well. 

Stream of Caffeinated Coital Consciousness

Last weekend I found out the farmers market coffee guy knows my name, and when he said it, it left me clitormented (clitterpated?) for the rest of the day. Dude is married, but he’s attractive enough, and when you add in the fact that he provides me coffee, I KIND of want to make out with him. I used to joke with my friends, because his wife’s name is also Smug, so he wouldn’t even have to change the name he mutters in bed.

But I was reading an article about the business, and I found out HIS name is the same as my ex’s, so NEITHER of us would have to change the name we say in bed!

I really think we should explore this. Sorry, y’all. I’m no longer Smug Singleton — I am Smug Wife-Swapped with my Coffee Dealer.

Also, this is disgusting, but it would be fantastic if caffeine were sexually transmitted. Can you imagine? You know how different foods you eat can affect the way you taste? What if all the coffee he drank added caffeine to his…um… contents, and I could either swallow it and get a jolt of caffeine, OR, OMG, what if I could get caffeine fucked INTO me?

Dear. Holy. Jesus. I need a government grant for this immediately. A caffeine-infused orgasm sounds like my ideal situation.

(Nobody harsh my buzz — I know that’s not how semen works. Well. Probably. I should really do the leg work…the open-leg work. OK, sorry, I’m done now.)

Hump Daaayyyy, indeed

I’d been thinking about asking my friend Mike to be my friend with benefits.

But every time I think about saying his name during sex, I can’t help thinking of that Geico “hump day” commercial — “Mike, Mike, Mike, Mike, Mike!” (And also, ’cause…well, humping.)

I may never fuck anyone named Mike again. If we ever had sex on a Wednesday, I don’t know that I’d be able to stop myself from laughing, or at least panting, “Hump daaayyyyy” during my orgasm. It’d be really tough to keep me focused.