I am generally against sharing OkCupid usernames and photos, and I try not to do it, and whenever I do, I always feel bad, because I wouldn’t want anyone sharing MINE.
That said… I’m not even sure what to make of this combination of things, but it amused me.
Possibly because this is MOST DEFINITELY what Jesus would do?
Entirety of first message from a man on OkCupid: “Hi, chat? Submissive?”
A few things:
1. Isn’t it nice how he puts in that bit about chatting before so deftly and subtly segueing into “submissive?” THAT’s how you treat a lady, gents.
2. The timestamp on the message is 5:50 a.m. I’m not submitting to anything at 5:50 in the goddamn morning except more sleep. Clearly our schedules wouldn’t mesh.
Sub-question (pun not intended, but stood by): Really? Dominating is on your mind at 5:50 a.m.? Let me get some coffee before we discuss safe words.
3. This is a shame, because I don’t know if I’m submissive because I like it, or because I’m lazy and unimaginative, but yeah, generally, I will be quite pleased to do any naughty little thing you tell me to and then beg you for more. But if that’s the FIRST thing you need to know, I’m probably not submissive enough for you.
Alas, good sir. Despite your enticing offer, this does not seem to be our time. Best of luck to you.
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.
Dispatches From the Department of Why I Don’t Have Children:
I almost never iron my clothes, so I don’t own an ironing board. This morning my shirt was a bit wrinkled…possibly because I keep clean clothes in a pile on the other side of my bed where a man should be, because I am too lazy to hang them up.
So I ironed the shirt using the living room carpet as an ironing board.
I was wearing underwear and my deodorant shirt — a beer-branded fitted tee I wear while doing my hair and makeup so any rogue deodorant marks get on THAT shirt rather than the shirt I wear to work.
I was also running late for work, and listening to a song about S&M at full volume.
Do they have a Kidz Bop “S&M?” I guess I could compromise. FOR THE CHILDREN.
Today someone found this blog by searching for “slutty Pandora stations.”
I’m confused. Would that be music ABOUT sluts? Music that MAKES us slutty? (I have those songs — put on Rihanna’s “S&M” and I might as well have a pole.)
Is the station ITSELF slutty? Does it sidle up against all the other stations, all, “Hey, Top 40, how YOU doin’?”
And come on, aren’t ALL Pandora stations a little bit slutty? I mean, they all give it up to pretty much anyone.
Next up on Pandora’s Slut Station: “Runaround Sue” gets freaky with “The Wanderer.” (I’m not really old enough for that frame of reference, but I AM pretty pleased with it — that there’s some OG slut shame.)
I’ve heard this song a bunch of times since That Guy “made it like it never happened and that we were nothing,” and I was perfectly fine. But it just came up on my Pandora playlist and suddenly I’m a weepy bitch over it?
Li’l early for PMS, isn’t it, Body? Though I suppose that would explain the recent irritability, exhaustion, insatiable libido, and mass consumption of salty, cheesy Mexican food with Girl-Scout-cookie chasers.
This is all fine. (It actually is. It’s out of my hands. There’s literally nothing I can do except “breathe and reboot.” Plus I think I’ve proven I’m stronger than Weepy Bitch, even if on occasion she IS the one who knocks.)
I like to think I’d get laid much more often if it were always an option for a man to see me dance to Rihanna songs with a couple gin & tonics in me.
#MyJam #PerfectlyGoodAtIt
Life gave me lemons, and today’s mail gave me the Fifty Shades of Grey movie from Netflix.
*assembling lemon drop*
*spanking own ass*
Giddy up, Friday.
Barnes & Noble just emailed me to tell me the Fifty Shades of Grey DVD is available for pre-order.
TOTALLY renting it from Netflix and having a Mystery Science Theater-style party.
Snack menu so far: licorice whips, Nerds Ropes, fruit leather.
Oh, OH! DominaTRIX cereal! (I know, I know, she’s the sub — it was too good a pun to pass up.)
OMG, the signature COCKtail (heh) will be Fifty Shades of Grey Goose!
Fifty Shades of Gravy!
My parents just showed up for an unannounced visit. They haven’t seen any of the places I’ve lived in for probably 10 years — we are not an “unannounced visit” kind of family.
This may be the only time in my life I’ve ever regretted not being into elaborate S&M scenarios with randos I meet on Tinder.
“Oh, hey, Parents! This is Ben and that’s Kyle. That’s Steve over there in the swing, and that’s Todd in the corner — he just likes to watch. Check this out, I got these fuzzy cuffs special for Handcuff Sunday. What, you guys do Saturdays? Yeah, we like the bonus blasphemy of the Lord’s day. It really adds something, right, Todd?”
Dude. It’s my day off. I’m wearing pajama pants with no underwear and haven’t brushed my teeth yet.
But hey, thanks for presuming I’d be home alone — much appreciated. (Yes, I AM, but I’m not always! Give me some credit!)
Smug Singleton 