I know, I've been missing for a while. I'm sure you've been rocking back and forth in your room, sobbing and sweating and refreshing your browser for weeks waiting for this moment. WELL I'M BACK MOTHERFUCKERS!
I'll explain my absence. Obviously my favorite topic is dating and how lame the dudes that enter my orifices are. Well I made the brave and heroic choice that I was not going to date this year. Yup. Muffin shop is closed, be back in 2016. Consider my downstairs a condemned building that not even the transients want to hang out in. Actually that's not true, the transients that live on my porch fucking love me.
I made this decision based on looking through my phone at the texts I had from the last dudes that have put it in me. Turns out they were all fucking assholes. Seriously. Not one redeeming quality among the entire group. I didn't even find them entertaining. My emotions ranged from pity to complete disgust to blind hatred. I stopped giving pity fucks in my early 20's. Sorry ya'all missed out. So I decided since I'm obviously incapable of getting naked with decent human beings, I'm saying no to the entire male population. Bye OkCupid. Bye Tinder. Bye Felicia to all the twat buckets I deleted from my phone. I'M FUCKING BUSY.
Honestly not dating has been going better than expected. I'm saving money by only buying my own drinks. Leeches. I rarely ever have to put on pants after 7 p.m. I don't have to share my wine with anyone. And my dog loves me even more because I'm not making him sleep next to a smelly, hairy dude. The best part is that I can get super blacked out, make out with my Uber driver and not have to apologize to anyone. Seriously, Saturday night shit got real.
Just when you think your life is kind of nailing it, you have dinner with your friend who reminds you that you're 30 years old now and your vagina is going to betray you and stop liking dick soon. Like not tomorrow soon, but the kind of soon where you think it's super far away and then one day you wake up and your lady parts have packed a suitcase and moved to Hawaii to live out their days in a Leisure World on the beach. Or in medical terms your shit is dried up like a Saudi desert and not enough lube in the world can resurrect it. Basically it was like scared straight, but I guess scared slutty would be more accurate. Suddenly I wanted to rub genitals with everyone, everywhere. If you don't use it, do you lose it!? I'm not going to wait around to see what the answer is.
Because face to face interactions with people is exhausting and I'm mentally incapable of conversation after 6 p.m. on weekdays, it was back to my abusive boyfriend OkCupid. I've been back for a little bit now and this is what I've learned. There are only four types of dudes in the world. And this is why I will die alone.
1. The dude who thinks he's a great lay.
This is the guy who sends you one witty message and then in response to your even wittier message (because I've got it like that) immediately goes into detail at how great he is at eating pussy. It may even be the only thing written on his profile. I have learned from many, terrible experiences that any guy who says he's amazing at oral is going to flop around in your vagina like a dying walrus. There's going to be spit everywhere and you're going to have to apologize to your peesh for letting this happen to her for weeks. If you have to talk about how great you are at something, I'm going to assume I'd rather walk into traffic then let you violate my clitoris. So if you've dated me, and told me you were a great lay, and I never talked to you again, you were wrong. Go read a fucking book man.
2. The hot mess.
I'll admit I'm kind of a nightmare. Case in point, as mentioned before last Saturday I blacked out, made out with my Uber driver (who still charged me, fucker), passed out on my bathroom floor and then dragged my dog on a walk at 2 a.m. so he wouldn't shit my bed at 6:00 a.m. Obviously I have some emotional problems. But because I'm a disaster, I attract the dudes who are like "Hey, I like to get drunk and rage too!". This translates to: I will drink way more than I can handle, grope you in a parking structure and then if you're too inebriated to realize it's a bad idea, you'll take me home and then I'll pee in your bed and make your dog hate you for always. As much as I can't handle being a person sometimes, I've never peed a bed, vomited a bed, or shamed myself in front of a one night stand. If I'm telling you to get your shit together, you probably should.
3. The I'll fucking wife you on the second date guy.
If you haven't already guessed, I'm not looking for a husband. All I want is to hang out with someone cool who likes brunch and won't try to convince me that my dog is spoiled and I need to "discipline" him. He's 107 years old, he does what the fuck he wants, get over it. But there's always that guy that thinks he can change my mind. For example, I met an older dude and thought at the very least he could pay for his own shit and maybe mine. We hung out and I guess I mentioned my affinity for French Bulldogs. I might be slightly obsessed with them. Perhaps I've already decided that mine will have one eye and be named Pierre. (Make note if you try to wife me that this is your future.) Day after date one, when I'd already decided I could do silver fox sexy but wrinkled balls were not going to be on this youthful chin, dude sends me a picture of a frenchie. That he wanted to adopt. TO BE OUR DOG. Good. God. You want to combine my daddy issues, with your mommy issues, and you don't think we're going to end up on an episode of Snapped? No.
4. The guy with the lying bitch of a mother.
Mothers, stop telling your unemployed, boring, unattractive sons that they're hot pieces of ass and shouldn't settle. What you should be telling them, if you cared about the rest of us, is that they're not great and if a lady is willing to settle they should be grateful and treat her well and pay for her drinks. I'm sick of meeting dudes that have really nothing going for them, but because their mom told them so, they think they're better than everyone. If you're a hairy troll with no sense of humor and nothing to offer, stop acting like you're Channing Tatum. I know my limits. I know where I stand in the world and I high five myself and give compliments frequently when I nail a 8 or 9. I might even buy him brunch and not throw up near him when I drink 80 mimosas. My mom tells me I'm great all the time but I'm not a fucking moron and I know I came from her womb so of course to her I'm fantastic. Dudes, if your mother tells you you're better than everyone, hands down you're a 3 or a 4. Own it and stop being such a fucking dick.
In summary, I've gone back into retirement. Until I run out of money to buy my own drinks, I'm staying here with my wine and my dog and without pants. CALL THE COPS, I DON'T GIVE A FUCK.
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