“Die mad about it.”

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Respecting the boundaries of small talk

I told an OkCupid guy I’d gone to the Women’s Conference, and he wrote back asking what “the most inspiring takeaway” was.

The honest answers to this question are not suitable for the first few online dating messages.

1. No matter how crippling my imposter syndrome gets, I shouldn’t be afraid to speak, because chances are I’m NOT the stupidest person in a given room. (Though I still don’t believe that.)

2. We can put too much onto the ONE person in our paradigm of monogamous relationships, and it’s to be expected that we get different things from different people. I am not a slut or a bad person for getting those needs met, and I shouldn’t feel bad about it. (Though I still do.)

3. My knee-high black leather boots are better suited for your filthy sexual fantasies than for walking 6 miles at the Convention Center.

A-OK DTF!

One more thing about these tests they’re doing…

I’m not WORRIED, but I AM happy they’re checking things out, because I only had sex twice with Guy I Dated For a Minute, and both times it hurt. Only for a second, only upon his first entry, and not enough that I had to stop, but it hurt.

And, not to be an asshole (well, maybe a little bit), but it wasn’t a size issue. I mean, it wasn’t SMALL, it was a very fine penile offering, but it wasn’t like, “Oh, shit, better brace myself.”

Obviously there are approximately 6 million perfectly logical non-serious-health-issue reasons it might have hurt, but it’ll be nice to have an all-clear on anything big.

P.S. Oh, and they HAVE cleared me! I got an email while I was writing this. One small ovarian cyst, which usually resolve on their own, but nothing else. Good work, body! (Also, no STIs or other plagues, so I am officially DTF.)

It’s like my vagina took the SAT

I’m at the classy suburban branch of Penn Medicine, and the white trash in me is SO tempted to walk in and be like, “‘Sup. I’m here ass early in the morning to have you invade my vagina with technology.”

Regular ultrasound to see my beautifully barren womb ✔️
Vaginal ultrasound to double check for any other invaders ✔️

The gel they put on the wand was so cold it was like being fingered by a rocket pop, and it’s never great to have something inside you that you didn’t invite in (vaginal vampire?), but nothing terrible.

I realize I’m being pretty cavalier about what IS actually a test to check for big scary issues, but a) the initial biopsy they took came back fine so I’m pretty sure I’M fine, and b) I have no other mental setting than equating Very Serious tests to being fingered by a rocket pop.

Discreet skeet

I got a first OkCupid message from a man whose only profile photo is a fairly sizable, at-attention penis constrained by thin white cotton underwear.

The only part of his profile he bothered filling out was the “My self-summary,” under which he wrote only, “Discrete.”

*sigh* “Discreet,” sweetie. You’re looking for “discreet.”

“Discrete” is math. Don’t be math.

I guess if I’m allowing for there to be blood in his brain as well as in his penis, “discrete” can also mean “individually separate and distinct,” and its synonyms are “detached, unattached, disconnected.”

So maybe that IS the word he was looking for. In which case, well played, fellow commitment-phobe.

And hey, also? Way to grow a dick. Kudos, you should be proud of that thing.

But…nah, I’ll pass. If I put that in me, I’ll be rendered incapable of discretion no matter how you spell it. Probably best you don’t awaken that beast.