people I'm never sleeping with Archives

Online Dating Mistakes and 5 Steps to Avoid Them

Apr 142013

Since I deactivated my OKCupid account, I have been contacted by considerably fewer ignorant dicks looking to score. However, I still have a personal Fetlife account, and that still nets me a couple messages from horny strangers every month or so.

Erica Grigg, one of the founders of GetLusty.com (which I write for, and which you should read) posted a Facebook status saying that she hated getting hit on by “stupid men who don’t read her profile.” Erica is married, and it’s pretty apparent that she’s monogamous. The man that sparked this status messaged her to say, “You look gorgeous… i will love to connect with you on here, get to know each other better and see where it goes from here.”

From the tone of her status, Erica sounded pretty annoyed. I can’t blame her. I’m annoyed every time I get a message like that. Don’t get me wrong – I’ve never bitten anyone’s head off for hitting on me, but heaven knows that I’ve wanted to whenever someone does it the wrong way. Let me assure you, there is a difference. Today you’re going to learn about the wrong way to hit on someone, and then I’m going to give you five easy ways to send a message that someone will want to respond to.

Mistake #1:

You don’t read their profile.

Who gets on a dating website and doesn’t read someone’s profile? Are you really that desperate? Are your standards really that low that you don’t care who you have sex with? Maybe there’s some strategy in playing the odds… after all, statistically, the more people you message, the more people you should get a response from, right? Well that’s not going to happen if you try to sow your oats in the wrong fields.

Reading someone’s profile has many benefits. For starters, reading a profile gives you an opportunity to determine whether you’ll be able to pretend to like them long enough to bone them. Or maybe you’ll realize that you actually want to get to know them. But it gives you something to talk about, and more importantly, it keeps you from making…

Mistake #2:

Messaging someone when it’s never going to happen.

This isn’t me having a defeatist attitude. This is a huge example of trying to sow your oats in the wrong fields. There are circumstances that absolutely preclude you hooking up with your target.

Is your target in a relationship and monogamous? Chances are that you’re wasting your time.

Are you a man messaging a lesbian? WHY DO YOU THINK THAT IS A GOOD IDEA? Do you just look at someone’s sex and profile picture and start messaging? My ex’s OKCupid and Fetlife profiles both said lesbian, and yet the messages from men kept flooding in.

Just don’t do it. Unless you’re on a dating website for people looking to cheat on their monogamous partners, don’t message monogamous coupled people. Thinking about messaging that lesbian to see if she wants to suck your dick? Take your head and slam it vigorously against a wall, then see if that still seems like a good idea.

Mistake #3:

You send a one (or two, in some cases) line message… or you don’t send a message, and just send a picture instead.

There are plenty of ways to do this wrong, and there are almost never situations in which you’ll get a response when you do this.

Doing it wrong:

“Hi beautiful, would love to get together with you.” “Hi sexy, would love to connect and see where it goes.” Etc.

Why it’s wrong:

I’m sure that when you’re writing that message, it seems pretty harmless. But when I receive that message, I have a few different feelings all at once.

I feel like you’re using a word like “beautiful” or “sexy” to objectify me, assert dominance over me, and condescend to me. It doesn’t feel like a compliment, it feels like you’re two steps away from sitting me down and mansplaining something to me.
I feel like the compliment is artificial and is only there because you think that the only way to speak to a woman is by talking about her physical appearance.
If you have never seen me, then I am immediately angered by your assumption that I am attractive. It implies that you’re desperate and/or have no standards.
When you say something like, “See where it goes…” or, “See what happens…” I know where it’s going: nowhere. What you have implied to me is not that you want to get to know me as a person – you have implied that your only interest in me is the sex you think you’re going to get.

Doing it wrong:

“You are so sexy.”

Why it’s wrong:

You haven’t started a conversation with me at all. You have indicated that all you care about is my physical appearance.

Doing it wrong:

” l’ll be they guy you do butt drop and facesitting on…” or anything else sexually explicit

Why it’s wrong:

I actually got that message on Fetlife. I don’t even know what a butt drop is. It’s not the first explicit message I’ve received, and probably won’t be the last. You’ll have to excuse me if I don’t get moist the instant a stranger offers to choke me with his dick.

Doing it wrong:

Pictures of yourself naked or of your genitalia.

Why it’s wrong:

If I have to explain this for you, end your search now. You are clueless and you will die alone.

Mistake #4:

You don’t have a profile picture or any information in your profile.

Maybe you were just so eager to hook up that you forgot to upload a photo or write a few lines about yourself in your profile. Maybe you didn’t know what to say, or you weren’t satisfied with any of the photos you had. Refrain from messaging anyone until you have written a profile and put up a photo.

If you have a profile but no picture, then your blank user picture is a question that I want an answer to. “That’s shallow,” you say! Is it really so shallow for me to want to avoid meeting someone that I’ll recognize from America’s Most Wanted? Would you want to go on a blind date with someone that looks like one of those dudes from Wrong Turn? If you don’t have a picture but I do, you have me at a disadvantage. I’m not okay with that.

If you have a picture but no information in your profile, then my mind automatically fills in your profile for you.

Yikes.

And if you don’t have any information – no profile, no photo, nothing – then you don’t even register as a person to me. You’re a ghost in the machine. An annoying ghost with bad spelling.

Mistake #5:

You don’t drop it once you’re told to bug off.

After a response declining his advances, one man who messaged my ex said, “So you don’t want to hook up?” My ex responded, “That’s generally what lesbian means.” If I recall correctly, the dude didn’t stop sending messages.

Persistence isn’t your friend when you’re rejected. Ten more messages aren’t going to change someone’s sexuality, make them any less single, or make you any more interesting or attractive. Ten more messages are going make you look pathetic, and they’re going to get you blocked and reported. And if someone doesn’t respond, there’s no need to send an inflammatory message – it’s totally unnecessary, and it’s definitely not charming.

Harassment isn’t sexy. Once I’ve told you that I’m not interested, please don’t keep messaging me. Even if you think your messages are friendly (“But you’re so pretty! I’m really interested, are you sure?”), they show me that you’re incapable of respecting my wishes. If you’ll ignore me when I tell you to stop messaging me, will you ignore me when I tell you to stop following me, or to stop trying to have sex with me? It’s unsettling. Leave me alone and move on.

Doing it right:

1. Find the right site. Facebook isn’t a dating site. Don’t try to hook up with people you barely know on Facebook. Try to find a site that caters to your needs. Is religion a big part of your life? Try ChristianMingle or JDate. Looking for a basic dating site? OKCupid works. PlentyOfFish exists. Kinky? Use Alt.com or something. (I’m not saying that Fetlife can’t find you a date, but it is not, by definition, a dating site. So stop messaging me like it is.)

2. Take a nice photo of yourself. A photo with your face in it. We don’t care about your bare chest or your genitals.

3. Fill out all the sections of your profile, and try to make it interesting. Don’t lie. Let your personality shine through. We want to know who you are and what you have to say about yourself. If you just talk about your career and list your interests, you’ve only given us the equivalent of what we could have learned by hunting you down on Facebook. Do you feel like you know someone when you’ve only read someone’s work info and the list of things they liked? If you do, you might have issues – those things don’t tell you who someone really is. They definitely don’t tell you whether you’re going to like someone.

4. Read someone’s profile. It contains vital information: gender, sexuality, relationship status. It also contains the information you need to send a message that’s actually going to get a response: hobbies and interests.

5. Compose a message. Try to make it more than one line. I’m not asking you to write someone a novel, but make it a message that’s worth the click it takes to open it. Aim for at least three sentences. Don’t use terms of endearment in your first message to someone. If you’re going to give a compliment, give it in a full sentence: “You have a beautiful profile picture.” instead of, “Hey beautiful.”

Ask questions so that the person you’re messaging has a reason to message you back. Don’t include anything sexually explicit, because it’s just not sexy and it’s going to discourage someone from responding to you at all, let alone to say, “Buzz off.” Spell check your message before you send it. The easier it is to read what you’ve written, the more likely someone is to respond.

Ta-da! You have sent your first message worth reading.

Welcome to the world of people who receive responses.

Fellow victims of unwelcome digital advances, I would love to hear your horror stories. What’s the most absurd message you’ve ever received?

Blurb #7: The Love Poem I Always Wanted

Blurbs No Responses »

Jun 182012

True erotic poetry doesn’t come from the heart. It comes from OKCupid.

Elle: Ugh, this dude [on OKC] says he’s a writer and wants to get into a masters program and spells demeanor incorrectly. wtf.
AND CEREMONY.
Me: …..okay, see, two simple words like that are just SO unlikely to be typos that he just missed.
Maybe he wants a master’s in CREATIVE WRITING which clearly involves a distinct INABILITY to spell.
Elle: Noooo. There were lots of errors.
and weird/stilted syntax.
He wants to be a journalist, he says.
Me: IT’S HIS INNER ARTIST COMING OUT
Elle: EE CUMMINGS AIN’T GOT SHIT.
Me: TO BONE YOUR BITS/
HE DESIRES/
TO LICK YOUR TITS/
AND YOUR SWAMPY MIRES

Sugarcunt Reads: Jack’s Blowjob Lessons

Reviews, Sugarcunt Reads 17 Responses »

Feb 042012

Subtitle: “The Bigot’s Better Blowjob.”
Sub-subtitle: “Driving You To Drink.”
Sub-sub-subtitle: “Can’t Tell If Trolling…”
Written by the man who has had over 1,000 blowjobs, and counting.

If you want to skip to the drinking game, in which my dastardly machinations promote death via alcohol poisoning, just scroll to the cut.

Jack Hutson e-mailed Epiphora asking her to review his book. She had heard of his attempts to snag a review, and had also heard that all of her fellow bloggers had either declined or just ignored the e-mail. Appalled that no one had told him off for being a moron, she said, “Hell to the no. You’re a sexist pig.”

He then proceeded to solicit every sex blogger that she links to on her site.
I’m on that list.

We knew about Jack Hutson and the book because we’d been ridiculing the site a few months earlier. “It’s so misguided that it’s funny,” we said. “It’s gaudily designed! The information is crap!” We NEVER expected that he’d e-mail us asking us to review it. I invite you to formulate your own opinions about the site – his marketing method, his design, and the contents of his book cited there! To my understanding, you can find it by googling it. (At least, that’s what Jack told me to do when he introduced himself and mentioned his book. If you click the link to Epiphora’s tumblr, you can see the e-mail he sent to all of us.)

He seems pretty legit, you guys.

We, two 20somethings having relations with cisgender males, wondered, “Are we supposed to take blowjob advice from a poorly-vectored man with a mullet?” The answer is the same that it would be if you replaced “blowjob advice” with “candy”: No.

Instead of curling up in a corner and wailing, “I NEED AN ADULT,” repeatedly, I agreed to review his book because I didn’t really expect it to make me do that.

(Spoilers: Sometimes, it does.)

But really. Surely I don’t know every blowjob technique in the book. Surely I can improve. That’s what I told myself when I responded.

Jack selflessly dedicates the book

to women all over the world. I genuinely want to help them to free themselves, learn how to give great head, and have the best time ever with the men they like.

Jack sells this book hard. It’s a $47 book that is only available as an eBook. Jack tells you that “buying this book is probably the best investment you’ve made in the last few months.” His endorsements read a little bit like something out a pageant, as if he’s hoping to be crowned Miss America: Blowjob Queen. But the site says it wants to teach you how to be “The One.” <insert tired Matrix reference here.>

So enter the world of Jack Hutson, the Man of 1,000 Blowjobs.

Jack Hutson writes in a style similar to Tucker Max, who aims to be the 21st century’s Bukowski without wasting his time on poetry. He thinks nothing will get your man off more than you (an assumed cisgender female) taking your role in the “natural order of things” by being a “submisive slut.” In fact, in the book and the website, he tells you that if you don’t give good head, your man will find someone who will. He says most guys will leave you for a girl who gives better BJs than you. He says his divorce was necessitated by that fact that she gave bad head. On his website, he utters the “horrible truth,” that, yes – that other person your man could go to might even be a prostitute. (GASP!

My friend Elle M. summarized it best when she was reading his website, “So if you don’t suck it right he’ll hire a hooker? And it will be YOUR fault? HIS DICK WILL PULL HIM TO A SEEDY CORNER OF TOWN LIKE A MAGNET.”

Elle is convinced that the man who drew up a contract of wifely expectations even though there was no consensual master/slave dynamic must have written this. I agree with this theory, and we intend to investigate extensively.

The biggest thing Jack stresses is “the winning attitude.” Why? “You have to be horny if you want him to get horny.”

As I already said, how you feel is how he will feel. So, let’s recap – you have to change

“He should be happy that I made the effort to be on my knees and suck his dick, I hate doing this”
Into >>>
“I looove sucking his dick, mmm, it feels so good, I love the taste of it, I wish I could keep on sucking it forever, God, I’m so happy he let me suck on it, it’s the most beautiful thing on Earth, Aaaah”

“I am giving him head”
Into >>>
“He is giving me incredible pleasure from letting me suck his hard, tasteful cock”

Okay, y’all. Here’s the thing. I don’t hold back. I go down there without asking. I voluntarily stick my face down his pants when I’m ready to roll. And yes, he is letting me suck his cock, and yes, I am getting pleasure from it. But let me be totally honest. While I care for my partners, and find them sexually appealing, the opportunity to put a cock in my mouth isn’t exactly a privilege that I had to pry from his cold, dead fingers. Sure, he’s letting me administer fellatio, but it’s not like I had to beg him for the chance to make his eyes roll back in his head.

Jack admits that he’s homophobic, sexist, and generally an asshole. (I haven’t even scratched the surface in that list. He’s a bigot in all ways, and this book is one entire cissexist tirade of crap.) He’s actually kind of proud of it. That just makes you want to punch him more. When he says that it’s hard to get STDs from giving a blowjob and says he never got anything from getting blowjobs from hundreds of different girls? I want to spit on him for thinking he’s the authority on this. He tells you to know who you’re dealing with, make sure he’s clean or make him go get a test, and don’t swallow his load if you’re not sure he’s clean. WHAT ABOUT CONDOMS, JACK? He has a section on how important it is for you to look good. He has some sections on… oh, fuck it. You don’t care. Neither do I. Let’s just cut to the chase.

If you buy this book, you’re basically paying $47 to hear one guy talk about what he likes to see in porn and what he looks for in a woman (winning attitude! submissive and gentle in all ways! feminine! slutty! swallows unless it’s a facial!). I only recommend making “the best investment that you’ll have made in the last few months” if you intend to find Jack Hutson and convince him to marry you so that you can kill him and inherit all the stuff he’ll leave in his mom’s basement. (If that’s your plan, I apologize that you’re that hard-up.)

I’d like to share some of my favorite gems from the book:

Blow jobs are in some way a method to convey male dominance over the female. It is natural for a man to be dominant in sex, and by giving him a blowjob you are showing ultimate submissiveness – and thereby giving him ultimate pleasure. Remember girls – this is NATURAL, that’s the way it should be by nature. So forget about feminism when giving head.

You’re right, Jack, I’ll just put equality out of my mind while I’m sucking dick to promote the “natural order” of the world. After all, anthropologically speaking, blowjobs are a much stronger human biological imperative than penile-vaginal intercourse.

And be feminine… you have to be a real woman, not some feminist. I don’t know how a lot of you girls got the impression that guys love tough, dominant chicks – no, we don’t. And the guys that tell you that only tell you so you’ll think they’re nice. These guys make me throw up.

Because real women can’t be feminists.

No, we don’t want a manly woman; we want a woman to be a real woman, feminine, gentle and loving – and most importantly, sexually submissive to her man.

Oh good, I’ll keep that in mind when my boyfriend is begging me to tie him up, sodomize him, and call him a little slut. Sorry if we made you barf a little, Jack.

You can also have great sex with soul and r’n'b music – I love music made by black folks, they really have a sense for music and they know how to make really good grooves for sex.

what.

If you really master giving blow jobs, all doors will be open for you. I can’t even explain how many girls suck at giving head – just by being better than them, you are in a major advantage. Sex is important, and sex without blow jobs is like driving a car that has really small space for gas. It gets boring to go to the gas station every five minutes – so sooner or later, that guy will want to buy a new car – a car that has A LOT of gas space. Funny example, but that’s how it is. I never cheated on girls that gave amazing head – because all my needs were satisfied – so I didn’t even need to think about cheating. I broke up with them for different reasons, and it was always hard for me to leave those girls – because a good blow job is hard to find.

So is a good blowjob instruction manual.

Let me strip the shit I slogged through down to advice that you could have paid a psychic hotline for:

Men like foreplay too.
Men generally prefer that you enjoy administering oral sex rather than acting grossed out or unenthusiastic.
You can suck cock in more than one position.
Your sex life will be more interesting if you’re relaxed and open about your sexuality.

The cool thing is that when you empty out all of your “fun” money for the week to buy his book, you also get a REALLY long FAQ. In the post-script after he finishes the text of the book, he tells us that the FAQ is BETTER than the book, and more than worth reading.

Then why the fuck did I just buy the book, Jack?

He also states that he’s writing “a new book about sex, anal, talking dirty, and other kinky shit.”

Oh please god no.

While reading this, my brain actually needed something to do. (That tells you how much brainpower the text required.)
I’m not a big drinker, but this book made me want to pick up the bottle… and smash it over his head.

Instead, I proudly present to you the Jack Hutson Drinking Game!

Blurb #5: OKCupid Strikes Back

Blurbs 3 Responses »

Feb 032012

One of the most important people in my life, the slutling, is taking a haitus from school, and we’re also taking a hiatus from our relationship (for other reasons). These two events were pretty much independent decisions, but the end result is about the same: I’m single.

So naturally, now that I’m single, every rock-hard infinitesimal cock with an ego the size of my ass is messaging me on OKCupid.

The A&F Chubby Chaser mailed me, and I was immediately skeptical. We had a 58% match percentage and his profile included information saying that he was s student, an Abercrombie & Fitch employee, as well as a day trader. It also said that he was good at sports and”schhol” (sic). The six things he couldn’t do without were “God. money. women. my friends. clothes. and i guess more money” The most private thing he was willing to admit? “umm… your ugly.”

So clearly, we were going to be a good match. But you know, despite how poor his profile was, he had impeccable spelling and grammar when he first messaged me… so we exchanged a few messages. He pretty clearly had a one-track mind. He went from asking me why I was up so late, to saying he liked me because I was different, to asking if I liked weed, if I liked threesomes, and if I had girlfriends to play with.

Then he asked to swap nudes.

Sorry dude, I mean. My naked body is on the internet, but I’m not handing that shit to you within five minutes of messaging.

“Well I would eventually like for you to place foreign objects in my ass and spank me like a naughty toddler. ”

Well, I mean… I’ve done that before.

“Do you have a phone number?”

“Of course I have a phone number. How else would my parents contact me?”

Clearly, my values weren’t getting through to him, because he then sent me his number, and told me to text him. There was no way in hell. After ten minutes with no response, he said, “I, ned [sic] you to make my penis orgasm.”

And that was that, and I thought that chapter was OVER.

Apparently not. I got a message from him three or four days later (last night) that said, “Stick a finger in your butt.”

TAKE A HINT, DUDE. I realize that you’re probably very popular with women because your neck is as thick as your head and you work at a store that won’t even let me take two feet inside without all eyes falling on me, but if I have stopped messaging you, we are done talking. If I did not give you nudes or swap texts with you, it’s not going to happen. Moreover, I keep getting an increasing amount of anecdotal evidence that for some men, working at Abercrombie & Fitch correlates with being a chubby-chaser… and believe me, while I only want to fuck someone who is aroused by the very sight of my voluptuous frame, there’s something about a chubby-chaser that I have nothing in common with contacting me that pretty much tells me that he just wants to fuck me ’cause I’m fat.

Did I mention his profile says he’s looking for women ages 18-99?

IF YOU’RE WARM AND WILLING, MY BODY IS READY.

Blurb #4

Blurbs 2 Responses »

Aug 172011

Christ almighty, OKC.

I admit it: since my previous significant other, I haven’t been on OK Cupid much, and when I am on, I pretty much never screw with the quickmatch function. I’m pretty content sorting things out the way they are right now… but I just got another four-star e-mail and opted to try and find the person who gave me high marks, just for funsies.

Unfortunately, the quickmatch offerings are not winners.

If you tell me, “I am just an average boring person,” I will take you at your word if I can’t find much else redeeming in your profile. (Although one fellow was ALMOST saved by a confession about staying up until 7 AM to play Minecraft.)
If you tell me you are, “normal and chill,” I am going to write you off as being boring and limited-of-mind, because you used the word “normal” to describe yourself.
If your profile contains the adjective “chill” in combination with your guitar listed under your six things you live without, I know exactly what you’re like, and can assure you that I don’t get a slick in my panties for some dude that can play approximately three chords, pausing only to gently brush his unkempt locks from his eyes.

Try again, OKC. It’s not working out.

–

A/N:

I know I’ve been somewhat absent lately, but new content is coming, I promise! I’ve got three items that I’ve received to review, and a whole mess of toys lined up to be written about.

No, literally lined up.

Really.

Why Your Screen Name Didn’t Make Me Wet

Blog 5 Responses »

Jun 252011

Every time I foray into online dating, I am met by some things that compel me to promptly foray right back out. I think about it whenever I decide to check my OKCupid account late at night, or whenever I’m eying some of the “Meet in North Carolina” groups on Fetlife because I find myself very, very desperately wishing I had a regular sex partner so I wouldn’t have to do all the work. I haven’t checked my OKCupid account in a few weeks, but yet again, I’ve found my mind wandering back to dating on the internet because of a conversation I just had with one of my best friends.

This particular friend was displeased with her eHarmony experience, but mentioned that she was thinking about re-activating her account on the site. Because misery loves company, I said, “Why not try OKCupid? I’m on there!”

This blog post was spawned because of the following conversation:

She: “What should my name on this site be? I don’t want to put my last name on this profile I was thinking about this.”

Me: “Yeah, I think that’s great! It doesn’t give too much away.”

She: “You don’t think it’s dumb?”

Me: “No. Seriously, once you see some of the names on this site, you’ll realize that you could have named yourself PeckerMcDongHat and still come away looking like a being of superior intellect.”

Which brings me to my point.

I know that the internet is a very big place. I know that screen names are things that you can agonize over for hours because you want to choose the right one. I know that some people are reading this and scoffing, “Yeah, well what does Sugarcunt even mean?” (Exactly what it says on the tin, bitches.) I’m not saying I have the best name on the internet, and I’m not here to offer any better suggestions.

I’m here because, if you have named yourself, “Oralmaster66698,” chances are that I’m just not going to be compelled to hit you up for a date! Or even a no-last-names sexual encounter, for that matter. When I get a wink from someone with a screen name like “bAbiGuRLLL,” I groan and delete the notification immediately. “BigCock4U2Day sent you a message!” translates to, “Call your friends over to point and laugh.” MakeUMyBitch247? I’m going to laugh in your face if you approach me with the assumption that I’ll submit to you.

Here’s the thing. I know it’s mean. I know it’s judgmental. But I’m on a dating site to judge you. On this site, yes, a first impression is everything, because unlike real life, I can block you if you annoy the shit out of me. In real life, it takes slightly more effort to avoid you based on a first impression (I solve this difficult-to-avoid problem by never leaving my dorm room), and because of the type of person I am, I’m more likely to judge you based on your typing skills than I am on your appearance. You have more chances if you have the balls to approach me in person, because it will (hopefully) take you longer to out yourself as a moron. “That’s not fair,” you cry. Is it fair that you’re going to decide you don’t want to date me because I’m fat? Well, on a cosmic scale, maybe not really, but on a scale closer to home, yes, it is. You have the freedom to bypass me because I don’t meet your weight requirement. I have the freedom to bypass you because a screen name like wAnT2cMipussy indicates that there’s a 95% chance that you don’t meet my intellect requirement. I enjoy clever screen names, or original-sounding screen names. I will even grant my attention to people who use small parts of their names as screen names, because I have met some people that I really like that do that. When I see a screen name advertising the girth or tightness of your genitals, or your super dominance, or your ability to beat your face in the general area of your Shift key with impunity, I mock you and then I sit down to write blog entries like this.

And now I’ll nitpick a little further. If your screen name has to do with fly-fishing or hunting and your profile says you love nothing but sports , you and I are not going to exchange messages. If your screen name specifically mentions sports, I’m going to be skeptical of you. I will block you if you message me and say, “You’re a girl” (strike one) “that plays games?” (Strike two) “So do you like, play Xbox?” (Strike three). If you send me a message that says nothing but, “hey,” I will not respond to it. If your profile states that you are “looking for your redneck Romeo,” or a “girl to have your babies,” please don’t message me.

I’d sooner send a wink to PeckerMcDongHat.

(Disclaimer: I didn’t reach out and deliberately select these screen names, but they probably exist. Rest assured that these were chosen at random and were not intended to represent any real individuals that I have had contact with. I have much more scathing things to say about people that I’ve had to reject personally.)

How To Cockblock Yourself With Me

Blog 4 Responses »

Jun 252011

It has occurred to me that since I’m blogging about my sex life, I’m probably going to repeatedly talk about how I don’t get any, and then I will follow those comments up with jokes about fucking anything that moves within a 20-mile radius. (Unfortunately, I don’t have many opportunities to do the latter, but I do make light of my sexual eagerness on a frequent basis – possibly more than I make light of my lack of dating prospects, which is a joke that has very thick, firm, turgid roots that thrust into the moist, silken soil of reality.)

The talk about not getting any isn’t much of an exaggeration. I’m not a virgin, and I have been in relationships in the past, but the fact of the matter is that I get hit on… maybe twice a year. Three times if the moon is in the second house or something like that. I’m 5’0, fat, and the only thing scarier than the size of my ass is the shit that comes out of my mouth.

On the occasions that I do get hit on, there really isn’t such a thing as “hit or miss;” usually, it’s just “miss.”

#1. “And then you’ll drink my piss.”

After I ended my engagement of five years, I eventually changed my relationship statuses on Fetlife back to “single” and “unpartnered.” An individual with some similar kinks that I had briefly conversed with before, and later accepted a friend request from, took this opportunity to ask me to dinner and the exchange of fluids. I was delighted by the dinner invite, but also apprehensive, and I made my concerns known – I was newly single and, while interested in getting to know him, wasn’t promising any kind of sexual encounter with a complete stranger. I was under the impression that he understood, as we continued swapping some flirtatious, geeky banter as we debated restaurant choices… and then he said something about dessert being “cum and piss.”

“Uh, no… no promises there.” I generally tout myself as being immune to awkwardness, but had this conversation been in person, I would have sat there thinking, “…awk-waaaard.”

It’s not like his suggestion wasn’t catering to my fetishes, although I had previously told him they were very conditional, and he didn’t meet the conditions for them at the time. It was just that, after every time I backed off and reminded him that it was just dinner, every response was the equivalent of, “…and then you’ll drink my piss!”

We continued trying to make plans, although I was booked for several weeks straight. When I suggested a more appropriate time the next month, he told me I would have to keep him interested until the time came around. There’s something about a man two decades older than me playing hard-to-get that just doesn’t sit well with me after he has demonstrated that he seems to think that dinner was the equivalent of purchasing a ticket to ride. Instead of jumping on my reply, I let the response notification linger in my inbox for a week, until it was joined by a notification for a follow-up message, which I now copy and paste for the reader’s benefit, drunken typos and all:

“Well I see that by your lack of response that you didn’t want to slide your meaty, dice-rolling sausage links across the keyboard to feign any more indifference, and you’re probably because with your boyfriend already, and even if that hasn’t happened, there’s always another anime sap who would let you move into his off-campus trailer and eat all his pockey kawaaii!”

This experience has allowed me to reinvent an old cliché: “Hell hath no fury like that of a middle-aged man scorned.” Especially the middle-aged man scorned by a younger woman.

#2. Sending me a picture of your cock.

I’m also a (rather disenchanted) member of OKCupid, and I received a few messages and a phone number to text from a conventionally-attractive fireman that lived about three-quarters of an hour away. Because my membership to OKCupid began in an attempt to get myself out of my “box” and to try meeting new and different people, I opted to begin texting him, figuring that perhaps we had more in common than our listed interests indicated… and he was over 6’5”, so why not give him a chance? (Being fortunate to have missed the height classification of “dwarfism” by about two inches, I have a thing for the abnormally tall.)

The first message he sent me was an MMS file, which my Droid requires me to manually open, instead of automatically showing me whatever gets sent my way. Given the number of texting horror stories that I’ve heard from my friends about receiving unsolicited dick pictures from random dudes, I dashed off a caveat as a response before viewing it, saying, “If this is a picture of your cock, consider this conversation over.”

It wasn’t! I explained why I had been wary of getting e-rectioned, we spoke for several days, and eventually, as it always will when I speak with someone, the conversation began to encompass our sexual preferences and experiences. The fateful day came when he, as some half-brained heterosexual males may be wont to do, decided that the time had come to show me his genitals.

But he figured he’d be a gentleman about it.
“Want to see my dick?”

The problem with this question was (and still is) that looking at dick doesn’t get me off. For starters, I find pussy much more visually and sexually appealing, purely visually speaking, and beyond my love of hardcore pornography, I’m really not much of a voyeur at all. In almost all things in life, I just don’t like to watch. I don’t like sports, but I’d rather play them than watch them. When one of my friends is controlling a single-player video game, I want to beat them to death with the analog stick, because no matter how proficient they are, they are doing it wrong. I have to leave the room when someone from an earlier generation is using a computer in my presence. This strong preference for action rather than spectatorship is practically in my blood. My late grandfather, who was a student driving instructor for a brief time, called it “white knuckle time” every time he got in the car with someone else. In his memory, I have perfected my heart-attack face, complete with my patented Grip Of Death and Shriek of Rising Blood Pressure. So no, gentlemen of the world. Unless you’re packing (and I mean literally packing a Mr. Softee, because I find dildos endlessly entertaining no matter what their application in life is), I really don’t want to see your cock before I’m the one pulling it out of your pants to play with it.

So as not to appear frigid, I figured I’d take the neutral-but-reluctant route: “Uh… I’m indifferent. :|”

AND LO, THE PHALLUS SPRANG FORTH, FLOODING MY SMS INBOX IN ALL OF ITS DECEPTIVE-CAMERA-ANGLE GLORY.

Indifferent didn’t really mean yes or no. He didn’t violate me. I could have just flat-out said no. But only in the movies does a professed lack of interest really mean, “DO IT, SHOW ME, YES, TAKE ME NOW.” Because I’m not a femdom porn star, if I ask a partner if they want to eat my pussy, and they say, “Uh, I’m indifferent,” I don’t rip open the crotch of my panties and sit on their face.

#3. “It’s not a booty call. I was wondering if you wanted to suck.”

Let me confess… despite my high standards and the title of this blog entry (“How To Cockblock Yourself With Me,” just in case you’re floundering amidst this sea of text), Conventionally-Attractive Fireman actually didn’t get axed for the dick picture. And no, it didn’t have anything to do with his professed height, which I did have the common sense to question after he sent me a photo of his junk with the camera angled up at it from the bottom.

No, I didn’t cut CAF loose after the dick debacle. I figured, with my new lot on dating, I would continue to withhold judgment on this potential suitor! I figured it made sense to meet him in person and see if he was as boring as he seemed. It couldn’t hurt unless he was a serial killer. It’s not like I was getting any younger, any less horny, or any less single.

We didn’t meet immediately after the dick incident. Because he was about 40 minutes away, I declined a date offer one day, because I didn’t want him to drive all the way to my campus just to see me. When he was passing through town, we opted to meet up for coffee on a Saturday afternoon. He was indeed 6’5”-ish. My head came up to his stomach.

We ended up sitting outside of the coffee place in the sunlight (boo, hiss, evil daystar, etc.) for about an hour and a half. The entire time he talked about his career. No, I don’t have a deep, long-standing curiosity about the intricacies of physical training and fighting fires, just in case you were wondering.

So after he departed and I started spending the remainder of my weekend hanging out with people I actually had common interests with, he started up a conversation around midnight.

“Did you have fun today?”
”…well, I didn’t hate it.”

I know you’re slapping your forehead. Believe me, in retrospect, I am too, but hear me out. He had a Modern Warfare 2 poster and he commented on something that reminded him of Starfox during our coffee date. (You’re laughing at me, “High standards she has,” you say. You probably think I put out if they have a Playstation 2, and if you do, then I have painted myself incorrectly – I’ll only give video game head to gamers playing on classic consoles.) No, okay, seriously, the reason these things mattered is because I figured, “Maybe we really do have some interests in common and we just didn’t get around to discussing them during our date.”

You and I both know that if this had been the case, this sucker wouldn’t be in a blog entry that rivals The Bible in length.

He asked what I was up to, I informed him that I was watching a film with some friends.

“Oh, you’re busy? That’s a shame… I was wondering if you wanted to meet up and have some fun.”
”Haha, what a sweet sentiment. While I appreciate it, I don’t do booty calls.”
”It’s not a booty call. I was wondering if you wanted to suck. ;)”

After I barely contained my animalistic lust, I promptly took a cold shower and never contacted him again.

#4. “Well I get that you’re big… but I don’t have a problem with that as long as you’re clean.”

Do I even have to elaborate on this?
It wouldn’t be very characteristic of me not to.

Another keeper from OKCupid. This guy actually was interesting and had things in common with me – in fact, he was original enough that he had my attention from the first message, which was refreshing. The conversation quickly graduated from site messages to text messages, stepped up from mundane to sexual, and I was baffled by how non-skeevy he seemed, even when he was talking about having sex with me. (Over the past six months, anyone that has attempted to sext me has been laughed off and has made me very uncomfortable. Not because they were talking about sex! But because somehow, they failed to ignite the quick-start match between my legs. Because they were creepy.)

The conversation went from the idea of a sexual encounter within a relationship to a hook-up, despite the fact that I had never hooked up with someone I hardly knew before, and didn’t think I was capable of “casual sex.” We finally ended up whittling these plans down to something immediate: we were going to fuck when he got off work at 7 AM that morning.

The anxiety set in around 5. “Oh god, what if he didn’t look at all my profile pictures and doesn’t realize I’m actually fat? What if he didn’t read my profile, where it says, I’m fat?” I promptly dashed off a message that basically said the same thing – “You are aware that I’m fat, right? I don’t think it’s a problem, but I don’t want you to assume I’m some skinny chick with body dysmorphic disorder. I’m a fat chick and I want you to make sure you know what you’re getting into.”

“Well, I get that you’re big… but I don’t have a problem with that as long as you’re clean.”

Here’s the thing. This dude was a “fat dude.” 6’4”, broad, and what most people consider “fat” because he had a gut and some girth on other parts of his body. You would think that he of all people would understand that being fat does not automatically make one disgusting, ugly, unhealthy, unwashed, slovenly, gluttonous, unintelligent, embarrassing (or embarrassed), desperate, angry, depressed, or <Negative Adjective Here>.

The only thing that differentiates my 5’0 fat self from a 5’0 skinny someone is that I’m fat. I weigh more. I have a very shapely, round, soft body. I have calves that could crush the skull of a Kenyan wildebeest. The fact is that all of those adjectives can apply to a thin person, and few people are going to assume that they do purely because of their body shape. Living in a culture that touts being unhealthily skinny as an automatic equivalent to being “healthy” ROCKS!

Those of you who have read my primary tumblr have already seen this list, but I’ll never stop loving the looks of surprise I get when:

- I order one cheeseburger at a fast food place, instead of three! (Which is apparently standard for someone of my hip size? I don’t know.)
- a nurse sees that I have low blood pressure, instead of being on the precipice of a heart-attack!
- I don’t bleed pure sugar!
- I walk up a flight of stairs… AND BY SOME MIRACLE OF GOD, SOMETIMES I DON’T EVEN BREAK A SWEAT!

I’m not what I’d call a model of health, and I’m definitely not in the gym every day, but being obese does not automatically mean that I’m inferior to the rest of the world, or the epitome of every negative quality that a human being can possess. Whenever someone I’m about to hook up with says, “Okay, I get that you’re a big girl, but I don’t care so long as you’re clean,” my first reaction is to KICK HIM IN THE BALLS because me being a “big girl” automatically means that I don’t have the hygiene practices that are standard for most people?

I hooked up with this guy. The sex was good for me. I will never be contacting him again.

(Author’s note: I am not a man-hater. I haven’t received even a minimal amount of interest from women or anyone outside of the gender binary, so I have no horror stories to present to you from those arenas yet. Trust me, it’ll happen eventually. It’s an inevitability. If I try to come, they will come.)