How I Changed the Mind of a Sexist Jerk on OKCupid

From Sexist to Empathetic in 12 Messages

There is no shortage of men saying wildly inappropriate things to me online*. When I can thinking of something funny to say back, these men usually end up as a part of (or the butt of) the joke on my Instagram. Most of the time though, it’s just a heavy burden to bear. The burden of these men and the way they speak to me (the way I assume they speak to all women, or at least all fat women). These men, who are your friends, your brothers, your future boyfriends, say terrible things and sometimes not that bad things and a lot of the time only-sort-of-bad-mostly-just-lame-things to me and most of the time nothing comes of it.

Which is why I can’t help but celebrate the few times I change someone’s mind. Because isn’t that really why I allow men to sharpen their knives upon my bones, the chance that I might make the world a better place and find some joy in this misery? Or, something more optimistic but less cool sounding.

And thus, I give you, a conversation I had recently on OKCupid, in which I changed a man’s perspective (with commentary).

*women are not obligated to educate you on feminism (that’s what google is for)
*women don’t owe you anything (not their time, not their manners, not their knowledge)
*for examples on why this might be try googling #byefelipe or searching it on instagram

He Said, She Said

It started out much like it always does. Man laughs at a joke written by another and assumes he himself must be hysterical. Calamity and lack of empathy ensue.

For context: my OKCupid profile is really just a list of jokes I’ve written

OKCupid first message

 

Sweet jesus. Did this dude actually just message me to say he wasn’t sure if my (brilliant) jokes are hilarious or just my sweet tits (tits being the least gross way I can characterize what he actually said)? The answer is yes. Yes he did. Even crazier is the fact that he thought this would go over well with me. Like who doesn’t enjoy a little bit of casual demeaning to start off any romantic relationship, amirite.

 

OKCupid first message

 

Ah yes, the age old “I’m not unfunny, you’re just uptight” defence (not uncommonly used by unfunny men everywhere). Followed almost immediately by the “you must have issues with your body because it’s not like me, a stranger, talking about it in a totally gross and offensive way could be at all bothersome.” This dude was on a roll, picking up speed while hitting all the bullshit ways in which terrible men gaslight women into thinking they’re crazy or too-sensitive or don’t deserve even the most basic amount of respect. You know, the kind of guy who says “I don’t take this seriously,” as if you can shirk the responsibility of treating strangers like shit simply by maintaining a lackadaisical attitude (here’s looking at you trolls).

 

OKCupid first message

 

The link I messaged him was to this tweet:


And just like that the tides were turning. Or, so I thought. I mean, he’d realized that perhaps his joke wasn’t quite the Seinfeld-esque banter he’d originally thought but did he really get “it”? Did he really get that it wasn’t simply a case of a joke falling flat but an entire flawed ideology about the treatment of women?

 

OKCupid first message

 

Ah, the age old “no one else has complained” defence. So many excuses, so little time, amirite?!? The truth is that he didn’t get it–not really, not yet. And so, I tried to explain it to him. I tried to explain without sounding bitter and jaded (because no one listens to you if you’re angry or bitter *eye roll so hard I pull a muscle*), about the ways in which women might have chosen/been forced by social pressures to absorb everything from the violent tedium to the violent fists of men (all in a real quick OKCupid message). Keep it light babe, keep it light.

 

OKCupid messages

 

And he got it. MY GOD HE GOT IT. But I wasn’t done. I wanted to add one final note about how maybe he could help with this thing we’re trying to do (ya know, be viewed as human and valuable and stuff).

 

sexist

 

And shit, I mean he really got it. He even understood the thing I’m always trying to tell all the guys who think they’re not “that guy” which is that you’re probably “that guy”. And you’re definitely “that guy” if you don’t think about how your behaviour affects others. Especially online because online is where people have the least amount of protection from the public and accountability from perpetrators. So please, the next time you send a message, or speak to someone, or think you’re absolutely above harming anyone–stop and think. Slip your feet into some empathy and try it on for size.

And if you’ve ever acted like this guy, do better. Be better.

And tell your friends because women are tired of carrying the burden.

Something She Said now has a Newsletter

Stories about sex and dating, screenshots of sexist online dating messages, murder jokes, elaborately long fruit puns–you never quite know what you’re going to get.

One thing for sure is that you’ll have access to some exclusive content (like my naked photos!) (okay probably not that–hi mom!), but you’ll be the first to know about any new writing/book developments, and frankly it’ll bring us that much closer in a totally weird but not at all uncomfortable way (are you my boyfriend yet?)

 

powered by TinyLetter

93 Reasons I Don’t Want to Have Sex with You

sex

You should just be able to say, “No” to things and be taken at your word. You should. You should. You should. But, for reasons unbeknownst to me, men never seem to take me at my word. Sometimes life feels like a series of men saying, “Come on,” in varying degrees- of-pressured scenarios. They say, “Come on,” as if they completely lacked empathy for me the desire to have sex with someone is an isolated impulse (spoiler alert: it’s not). Feelings and desires do not stand alone. They are webbed and sticky–intricately linked to everything that affects us (and jesus, are we affected). And though I would never suggest a woman should feel the need to explain or justify why she might not want to have sex with someone at any given moment, I do think that one of the many ways we can implore empathy in/from people is to share our motivations with them–to let them understand us better. And thus, I offer this small list of 93 possible reasons I might have for not wanting to have sex with someone*.

*Please note: this list isn’t even remotely close to exhaustive of my own personal reasons or those of other women, nor are any of the reasons mutually exclusive.

 

 

93 Reasons for Not Wanting to Have Sex with You

  1. This is a first date and I’m not ready
  2. I didn’t shave my legs
  3. I have my period
  4. I’m going to be getting my period any minute now
  5. I think my period is over but not over-enough
  6. I’m not wearing the right underwear
  7. I’m wearing my tights up to my bra like DIY Spanx (and look like the Penguin from Batman)
  8. My vagina isn’t waxed
  9. There was a waxing incident
  10. I don’t wax and don’t want to find out whether or not that’s a thing you have a problem with tonight
  11. I have an ingrown hair and it looks weird and I don’t want you to see it
  12. The sheets on my bed aren’t clean
  13. My tits are saggy
  14. My belly is floppy
  15. I’ve lost a lot of weight and I’m worried you’ll think I’m gross
  16. You’ve mentioned (several times) how big my boobs are
  17. My boobs feel too small
  18. I’m concerned you don’t know how bras work
  19. I have stretch marks everywhere and I don’t know yet know whether you’re a human being or a monster
  20. I’ve momentarily forgotten that I’m beautiful
  21. All I want right now is for someone to want to hold my hand
  22. You keep saying how sexy I am but I want to fuck someone who thinks I’m funny
  23. I just want to enjoy a first date kiss without having to be the pace car
  24. I just want to make-out on the couch and have it not go further
  25. I want to enjoy all the different bases
  26. You’re a stranger
  27. You just told me that you’re in a relationship
  28. You’ve dated someone I care about (and I don’t care enough about you to ruin that)
  29. I’m worried I might be getting a yeast infection
  30. Could it be a UTI? (what does a UTI feel like?)
  31. I think my PH is unbalanced
  32. I think my life is unbalanced
  33. I think you might be unbalanced
  34. I ate too much and feel bloated
  35. I haven’t eaten in hours just so that I could feel/pretend that I was even just a little bit thinner for our date tonight and (without admitting that that was a terrible idea) now all I want to do is get some Burger King and take off my bra (alone)
  36. You’re a terrible kisser
  37. You’re an okay kisser, and I’m not sure if being adequate is sufficient
  38. I’m worried you suck at kissing because you don’t like me enough to pay attention to what we’re doing
  39. I’m worried you will judge me for the rate at which I fuck
  40. You said you don’t like to go down on women (which makes me think you don’t like women’s bodies—which makes me think you won’t be okay with all my flaws and imperfections—which makes me think fucking you would be a terrible idea)
  41. I don’t think you could/would be willing to make me cum
  42. I don’t think my orgasm/pleasure is important to you
  43. We just met tonight
  44. We’ve only known each other for a few weeks
  45. We’ve been friends for 10 years
  46. We dated once or twice but then things faded because I moved away and now you’re in town and want to put it back together but it feels so rushed and I need a moment to readjust to you being back in my life
  47. We’ve loved each other so intensely and for so many years and it didn’t work out and now sometimes we make love and sometimes we fuck but I’m also dating other people and tonight there isn’t room enough in my heart for everybody and it’s too hard to concentrate on staying in the moment
  48. Your roommate is home and can hear us/I can hear them and it’s weirding me out
  49. I am more interested in your roommate
  50. I’m worried I’ve fucked too many ordinary men for insufficient reasons
  51. You’ve been acting distant since the last time we hung out
  52. You’ve been acting different since the last time we hung out
  53. I want someone who is certain they want me and you seem uncertain
  54. Tonight, I don’t want casual sex
  55. I need a pedicure
  56. I have a scar I don’t want you to see yet
  57. I have a mark I don’t want you to see yet
  58. I have a flaw I don’t want you to see yet
  59. I don’t trust you not to judge me
  60. I like someone else more
  61. I like someone else the same amount
  62. Dating is complicated and things get hard and I need a minute to think
  63. I just lost my job
  64. I feel sad
  65. I feel alone
  66. I feel unsafe
  67. I feel pressured
  68. I feel guilty
  69. I feel like a goddamn disappointment to everyone I’ve ever met
  70. I forgot to reapply for interest free status on my student loan and the idea of all that debt crushing me is making it hard to breathe
  71. I don’t know if you see me as a complete person
  72. I don’t know if you like me
  73. I don’t know if you like me enough
  74. I don’t know if I like you enough
  75. I’m not sure what enough is when enough is always moving around and changing on me (today’s enough is not always tomorrow’s enough)
  76. I don’t want to open all the presents at once
  77. The last guy I had sex with treated me terribly
  78. So many men that I’ve had sex with have treated me not so great at some point (often after having had sex with them and having been given no visible signs that they would treat me not so great prior to said sex and/or treatment)
  79. I had a fight with [my mom, my friend, my dentist] this afternoon
  80. A guy on the internet was shitty to me today
  81. So many men on the internet were shitty and disgusting to me today
  82. I’ve been reading too many (what is the right amount?) articles about rape and rape culture and everything that is bad in the world and now I can’t stop folding inward like an origami black hole
  83. You complimented me by insulting other women
  84. You said something slut-shamey
  85. Your bed doesn’t look sturdy enough for the both of us
  86. We have mutual friends and that makes a casual hookup with you uncomfortable
  87. I’m sweating a lot (why is it so hot in here?!?)
  88. I’m feeling really self-conscious about my body and don’t trust you not to destroy me
  89. I’m feeling fantastic about my body and don’t feel like you’re worthy of it
  90. I’m feeling some kind of way about my body and don’t feel comfortable enough with you to let you in
  91. I’m attracted to you but not turned on
  92. I’m not sure if I’m attracted to you
  93. I feel pressure to have sex with you and that’s ruining it for me

 

And the one that sums it all up, because all of these are just varying degrees of the exact same thing, which is

  1. I JUST DON’T FUCKING WANT TO RIGHT NOW

How to Talk to Women Online

The trick is to talk to her as if she is a human being. Do not talk about your penis.

Speak to her as if she exists in the real world because this is, in fact, all happening in the real world. The internet is not magic, and you are no wizard. You are no one other than yourself (and honestly, yourself needs to be doing a better job). Treat her like a human being the first time.

If there’s one thing I hear way too much on the internet—aside from “nice tits” and “I bet you’re great at sucking dick”—It’s the standard apology followed by, “I’m actually a really [insert unsubstantiated, unlikely, positive attribute: nice, smart, great, funny] guy, my [minimization of substandard and gross behavior] to the contrary. But I’m here to let you know that this is not true. You are not the person you wish yourself to be on the internet; you are exactly the person you have revealed yourself as. You are not your intentions but instead your actions, the horrible garbage monster you’ve been acting like until you aren’t anymore (you can change right now…or now…still now…yup now too…honestly at any moment you could change your whole way of being and just stop treating people terribly and being ridiculous and boring and predictable and detestable. I promise). So, if you’re writing things like “DTF?” in a first message or “I want to bury myself in your body” (yes, these are super real examples), please know that that is genuinely who you are. You are not a child testing the waters, you are grown up making people uncomfortable because of how little empathy (and respect, and social awareness, etc.) you have.

I wish my advice could be as simple as “just be yourself” but apparently that’s what many men have been doing and frankly it’s not working out so great for anybody involved. So instead, my advice is to be better than your current self. I don’t know who to blame for the way you to speak to women, for the way you’ve confused harassment for honesty and the unsubstantiated sense of self-worth for quality but it has to stop.

[sidenote: if you’re a man who approaches and speaks to women in a kind and intelligent manner, well, this article obviously isn’t directed at you, but then of course you already know that.]

Do not talk about your penis. From the very first moment you noticed this cucumber of an appendage, you have loved it. It has been your best friend, your most cherished possession, and at times your greatest accomplishment. But this is an illusion. No woman will ever love your penis the way you do. Your penis is more boring than a sober academic. Not my penis! I can hear you shouting. Yes. Your penis. It’s boring and tedious and, if I’m being honest, your penis is exactly like my apartment in that we all wish it was bigger. Unless your dick is more like my student loan debt inasmuch as there’s always just way, way too much. Jokes aside, given the data on the female orgasm—something like 75% of women never reach orgasm through penetration alone, 10-15% never reach orgasm at all (omg ladies I’m so sorry!), leaving only 10-15% who have the potential to get off straight from the D (though to be clear that’s just the possibility, it might not be every time and/or with every D)—So like what are we even talking about here? How illogical do you have to be (or how totally unaware of the realities of sex) to think your dick matters? Dicks are basically worthless (not to be confused with men being worthless because obviously not). What I’m saying is that men need to stop buying into the hype that your dick is the part of you that matters. It’s only a tiny part of you, and honestly, I’d rather hear about your degree in Journalism, or your passion project, or your relationship with great Aunt Susan, or what you ate for breakfast (which should tell you a lot because I’m guessing your morning meal is pretty fucking boring).

But if not straight up dick talk, what can I say to interest her?

Interesting people are usually curious, so ask her about her life and then when she asks about yours, go ahead and tell her. Listen when she talks, act as if she may have experienced something of value or even that her very experiencing of something may have given it value. Be empathetic and kind. Don’t talk about your penis.

Try to find a common interest. Does she like wizard jokes? Does she collect Labyrinth memorabilia? Is she crushing a fantasy football league with her team “The Bad Reviews Bears”? Ask her. Have you asked her? Fucking ask her! Once you discover something in common, run with it. Even if it’s something as silly as you both like to attend Kraft Singles events (which I’ve heard are very cheesy). Turn that common thread into a conversational sweater and knit something warm together. Don’t talk about your dick.

When she asks you about yourself, be honest and self-aware (you don’t need to be your own hype man, your actions and accomplishments will speak for themselves). If, when you attend parties, people don’t congregate around you in an orbital bliss of laughter—do not claim you have an amazing sense of humor (your sense of humor is average, which isn’t amazing but it’s fine, I’m sure you have something else going for you, I mean don’t sweat it).  Don’t say things like “I’m young at heart” or “I don’t look my age” because your heart has been slowly dying since the day you were born and honey, in regards to your age, if you have to say it—you aren’t it.  You know why babies never get up in your face to tell you how youthful they are?  Because their shit filled diapers and chubby cheeks do that for them.  The same rules apply for your face.  Also, those pleated khakis already gave you away. Stop giving yourself medals for kindness (to be totally honest, we’re all varying degrees of asshole and the only thing that makes that tolerable is our ability to admit it, so rather than pretending you’re the King of Benevolence because one time you didn’t act like a total psycho when someone rejected your advances, maybe just be real about who you are). You know that cliché saying “nice guys finish last”? It’s not true at all. Nice guys finish first all the time, people fucking love those guys. Entitled jerks who lack self-awareness finish last though (those dudes are the fucking worst amirite? Yuck!).

Now, I know what you may be thinking: How on earth am I going to let her know that I’m sexually attracted to her.

If you’re contacting her on any website or app that is sex/dating related, just assume she already knows this. No one who isn’t completely ridiculous is trying to make friends over on Plenty of Fish or Tinder (and if, by some stretch of the imagination, that did happen, those people usually say it right off the bat). Men often complain (to me—why do they keep thinking I care about their gripes? Like I’m some kind of wish fountain for subpar strangers?) that women on apps like Tinder are all just looking for friends, but I’m going to keep it real with you. While that’s obviously a possibility (anything is possible, I mean we live in a world where men think saying “nice tits” might actually get them somewhere), it’s unlikely. What’s more likely is that there was a possibility of attraction (again my god! this world is so full of possibilities!! Ahhh the excitement!!) that said dude then completely smashed to bits by being unimpressive (at best) or offensive/misogynistic (at worst). So like I said, if you’re having a nice conversation with a woman online, know that she knows you’re attracted (or that it’s at least in the realm of possibilities). Save the “nice tits” talk for when you’ve managed to see them for the first time. Because that’s the thing about sexual comments, context is key. A stranger talking about your body online is creepy as fuck, a man talking about your body the first time you show it to him is delicious.

This may come as a surprise but you don’t have to dehumanize a woman to have casual sex with her (in fact, if you were any good at sex you’d likely already know that the best sex happens when people feel comfortable and relaxed enough to really be themselves and, for lack of a better phrase, let it all hang out). Also, please don’t confuse a woman wanting to have casual sex with the idea that a woman who wants casual sex will definitely want to have it with you. I love casual sex (Big Fan! Huge!) but I have to be attracted/interested in having it with someone. It’s not just a first-cum scenario. You have to be brilliant and hilarious and interesting and kind and socially/self-aware, it’s a whole fucking thing.

That said, if you’re contacting a woman on ANY other website/app, well I mean you probably shouldn’t be trying to get at her in a sexual way. I mean, would you show up at your doctor’s house for a prostate exam? No, so why would you approach a woman via Twitter where she’s trying to make a name for herself writing jokes or promoting her new startup in a sexual way? If your interest lies in her as a person than talk to her like a human being. Honestly, you could just support whatever she’s doing because it’s amazing and interests you, and you could just never impose any other desires or expectations on her, ever. I mean, you can really do that, speak to women for no other purpose than they’re doing creative and brilliant things that you find interesting. It’s okay to just support and value someone. It’s okay to just be a human being with empathy.

He Offers Me Nothing

balloons

*

He says, “All due respect but those boobs,” then a hearts-for-eyes-smiley-face, and then two hands clapping.

He says, “Older women help me fulfill my total potential.”

When I am offended, he says, “Well, it’s just the facts, you are older.”

I read it with violent intonation.  I read it like it’s new information.

You ARE older.  YOU are older.  You are OLDER.

He waits for a response not knowing that I am already bored with this, doesn’t understand that I am turned off by his selfishness; he has never even thought to ask himself what it is that he offers me, them, us.

It is nothing.  He offers me nothing.  He is without an offering.

Why am I always expected to provide, to be something, to give of my body and my mind.  Smile for them.  Make them laugh.  Show them your body.  Give them everything they want.  Be kind.  Be pleasant.  Be a thing worthy of their idiotic conversation, their tedious ill-thought out plan.

Have they even considered that they are unloveable, unlikeable?

Why is being alive enough?  Why is existing and being attractive a thing?  Why are the numbers of people who cannot think a thing through so large?

I know there is a bitterness spreading in me, growing slowly, insidious, like ivy on my heart.  I’m thinking about learning math instead of men.  I’m thinking I could be happy without kissing if I had something interesting to turn to.  I wonder if I could write jokes about numbers.  I wonder if I could turn this bitterness into a formula.

I’m thinking thinking thinking why does no one ever worry about my full potential?

Relax, It’s Just Dating

It's Just Dating

The reason I have to ask every guy I talk with online, “so, what are you looking for on here?” is because most people are incredibly stupid dating websites make things incredibly difficult.  In some areas, they offer too much specificity, in other areas, not nearly enough.  For example, I’m still waiting for Plenty of Fish to get back to me about what exactly the difference is between these dating intents.


FYI, there is no difference.  These two things mean the same thing and whatever distinction could be made between the two is so complex and intricate that it could only be clarified with further discussion between the two people involved.  So, honestly, what are you even doing Plenty of Fish??

And yet, as hard as I am on Plenty of Fish, I understand the impetus.  Because most people are ridiculous haven’t put much thought into this, they have a ridiculous understanding of what dating is.  And that’s where I come in, to break it down, real quick.

Why do we demand specificity from water (lake, ocean, sea, river, stream, brook, rapids, waterfall, rain, snow, sleet, hail, etc.) and yet expect the word “Dating” to encompass everything (and by doing so, use it incorrectly).

Dating does not signify commitment.  That’s what words like “relationship” and “boyfriend/girlfriend” and “significant other” and well, to restate the obvious, “committed” are for.

Dating is not sex.  Don’t make me have a correlation/causation discussion with you folks.  While they’re not mutually exclusive, they’re also not mutually inclusive.  You can have dating without sex.  You can have sex without dating.  If you’re just speaking about sex, use your words timmy.  This is when words like “casual sex” and “no strings attached” and “booty call” and “fuck buddy” and “random” and “strange” and “one night stand” or “hook up” should be used.

Dating is not friendship.  You could make the argument that friendship can form out of dating or that two friends could go on a date but the difference is essentially attraction and intent.  So if you’re looking for a pool-shooting-buddy, be clear.  You’re looking for a friend.  If you’re looking for a pool-shooting-buddy that’ll feel you up against the felt?  Well shit.  That’s dating.

And I know some of you might be sitting there reading this thinking why does it matter?  Let me tell you.  So so so so so so much of the hassle and irritation and fucking mind boggling rage surrounding Sex, Dating, Relationships and anything in between is caused by misinterpretations, misunderstandings or any other way to say getting-shit-wrong.  If we can eliminate the confusion, if we can eliminate even just the tiniest bit of the frustration involved, then I’m one step closer to making the world a happier, healthier, more realistic and logical, yet awesome and amazing place.

So the next time a woman says “this guy I’m dating” don’t go putting all your assumptions on her.  Either ask.  Or assume the very minimum that the word entails.  She has gone on a date with a guy.  She has gone on more than one date with a guy.  She expects she might go on a date with a guy again.  There is no reference to commitment   There is no reference to sex.  There is no mention of buddies.  Take her at her word (literally the one she used) and not one that is about to buckle under all the cultural bullshit pulled up on it.

Because the thing is, no one freaks out when I say that I’m running.  They assume it means that I like to run, that I will go running, that I might be running at that exact moment.  No sane person assumes anything else about my running based on my statement.  I say, “I like running,” and they say, “great”.  No one makes me clarify if this is a lifelong pursuit, if I will ever stop running, if I am willing to run with one or several other people. Dating (and most other words) should be treated the same.

And fyi, daters.  It’s pretty pathetic when a person is so terrified of the world as to be afraid to make the claim that she/he is looking for dating and quite frankly, it’s embarrassing every time I have to explain it to one of you that, in fact, you are not looking for “friendship and let’s just see what happens”, you are looking for dating.  Quit being such a fucking baby.

Say FRIENDZONED Again. I Dare You.

Heart

Say FRIENDZONED again.  I dare you.

Say it like it’s the worst thing that could ever happen to you, that I might open my heart and not my legs.

Say it like I owe you something, like this world took too much from you and I am a part of the repayment plan.

Put a value on my smile.

Assign my hips a scale.

Hug me, but only if you’re hiding a boner.

Say FRIENDZONED like a campaign slogan, hold the antagonism high above your head, an evil you’re working against.

Make sure you’re feeling elitist though, as if the impetus that tells you I’m worthless unless we’re fucking isn’t the same impetus of rapists.

Don’t rest your chair so high.  The pants you wear are a common size.

Say it to my face so I hear it.  So I get to see who you really are.

Say I already have enough friends only minutes after cooing compliments in my ear.

Say I really want you.  I think you’re amazing.  A real cool chick.  I want to put my face in your lap for hours.

Say But it’s whatever you want, I’m cool if we’re just friends.  We can just write jokes together and hang out.  No pressure.  I want you, but it’s cool if we’re just friends.

And then I say the words.  I think we should just be friends, for now.  I don’t have to add the for now, you don’t own my heart and my desire and my future.  But I say it anyway because in this one scenario, this one time, there is possibility.  You came back into my life after being away for too long and I just need a fucking minute to acclimate.  So I say the words you offer, as a pause point, a breather I need to take.

No sooner are the words off my lips then you’re chugging back your beer and holding out a twenty thinking it chivalrous to shuffle me home in a cab.  I have enough friends you spit like an accusation.  You are not a gentleman, you are a monster.

Call the next day to apologize.  Call everyday for a week.  Never leave a message.  Text to ask if I’ll only just listen to your apology, hear the pain in your voice.  It doesn’t much matter now, I have seen who you are.

So go ahead and say it.  FRIENDZONED.  (as I slide all your options off the table)

An Open Letter to All the Mr. [something big and important, probably married]s, Regarding Your Emails

Open Letter

Thanks for the email, but you don’t have to be embarassed by my sexuality.  I know you feel the need to save your praises for private because you’re a big shot/celebrity/lawyer/news anchor/executive something/father, or whatever other identifier raises your importance above mine, but there’s really no need to worry.

I am not a predator, try not to think yourself so persecuted.

I know I wrote a piece about sexuality and inequality and my broken disappointed heart and used words like pussy and dick (and maybe next time I won’t stop short of using anal), but those are not things to be ashamed of.  I am sorry you feel the need to read my words with the lights out.

Maybe you want to hide in the privacy because single girls have been known to wander (this is a warning from your mother) but I am not here to scandalize you.

You don’t have to be ashamed to spread my words (which are not my legs), or to be seen talking to me.  After all, your intentions are entirely innocent, no?

So while I appreciate the email, about how much you enjoyed my writing, you should have just ended it there.  It’s flattering to know that my appearance pleases you and how you think I’m going to find a great guy some day, but you should know that I have already found one.  Several actually.  And that my having of them probably won’t fit with your idea of how my life should be.  But that’s not my problem (and I’m not even entirely clear on why it’s yours).

I don’t want to get married.

I don’t want to find the one.

I want the many.

I want to hear a hundred stories.  I want to lay down with men who change the composition of my surroundings.  I want to know the world.  I am greedy but not selfish.  I want more than my hands can hold, and so I stand facing it all with open fingers.  I want to kiss and laugh and love and fuck and be my true self and rip my heart open and spill it on the floor for all to see.

I don’t want a gated community, a picket fence, a sofa to sink into.  It is already hard enough to stand up tall everyday, I don’t need more things hemming me in.

So, thanks for the email, but it’s not necessary.

You see, I don’t need you to save me.  And I know for sure that I cannot save you.

I know I posted that thing about the boy who reacted poorly to my large frame and the things about men who try to woo me with discussions of my body.  I know I got angry and frustrated and lost faith in humanity for a second but I’m only human.  I am an elastic woman and likely to bounce back.

So, I know you got to see the flaws and the heartache and the sadness, and maybe that stirred something in you but none of these things mean I need you to save me.  They are not about you.  You already chose your life and this private weirdness that you’re creating with your power and your secrecy is affecting my balance (so you should stop).

I’m standing up here, spine only partially made of jelly.  Mostly strong enough and not nearly as alone as you might think (and frankly, my friends and family all feel a little jilted that you’ve minimized their roles so emphatically in my life as to think that one singular man could replace them entirely).

So thanks for the email, but your secrecy has splinters.

Words that should be innocent enough off the tongue, show up dressed in your issues and your shame and your inadequacies.  Your email is a time bomb and frankly, sir, I don’t need your bullshit.

So unless you’re ready to stand up tall and stop acting like my sexuality is an affront to your marriage, your personhood, and your fucking existence…unless you’re ready to stop pretending that my comfort and expression is a threat to your way of being…unless you’re ready to stop imposing your danger onto me…

I would just as soon prefer that you kept your praises in your pockets and your heavy words out of my box.

Little Deaths

Little Deaths

He cums and you don’t.  But it feels good when he’s kissing you, and you want him and he wants you and it’s this thing you both want.  But then he cums and you don’t.  And maybe it doesn’t bother you right away, not at first.  Because it was hot, the fact that you made him cum (though later you’ll find out he cums for other girls and porn and a bottle of lotion and the idea of almost any girl ever eating a banana slowly).  And so it turns out you’re less of a wizard than a receptacle and isn’t that just the grossest way you’ve ever thought about your vagina and your body.  You don’t want to be a receptacle.  And maybe you’d feel less like one if he was bothered by the fact that you didn’t cum.

I hear you say the sex was great, the sex is amazing.

Do you cum every time I ask and you pause.

Well, no.

Then what the fuck are you talking about, trying to convince me that just smelling a cheeseburger is enough to make you feel full for the week and you don’t even seen the insanity of it.

And maybe I could get on board with the whole it’s the journey not the destination (relax, I said maybe).  Except he’s always cumming.  He’s cumming everytime.  And there’s all these excuses like it’s harder for women and we’re more complex and you’re goddamn right it is and all the more reason to pay extra attention to it.  Because at what point are we just saying that we love watching a man eat steak while we only ever get to think about how great it would taste.

They used to call orgasms “little deaths” which didn’t make that much sense to me, masturbating to my imagination’s content as a teenager.

But every time I hear girls talk about sex like their orgasms don’t matter I die a little inside.  So I kind of get it now.

Dating a Dating Blogger: The Butterfly Effect

Panda Ponders

Welp.  I’m dating again.

Grad School is over.  Teaching and marking are done, grades have been submitted.  Summer is here, and I have just under 3 months to enjoy absolutely everything Montreal has to offer before my lease runs out and I return (temporarily) to Vancouver.

And before you close the tab on this post because you can’t stand to read another article where I’m frustrated and bitter and jaded about the state of men who are interested in me, that’s not what this post is going to be like.  In fact, it’s probably the absolute opposite.  Or, at least it would be except for one small but crucial element.

More than ever before, I’m worried about altering the trajectory of the dating in my life (see:  butterfly effect).

I should explain.

I used to keep the blog, my Twitter, and my Facebook hidden from the men I dated.

Then there was a period where I felt like my identity was really wrapped up in the blog (turns out it wasn’t the blog as much as being a writer) but either way, I wanted them to know me and to do so they had to know about the blog.  Not to mention I’m basically the world’s worst liar so if a guy asks what I write, I have a problem telling him I write travelogues for nomads (though that sounds kind of fun…no?).

Then the last few months happened (where in all honesty, I have gotten really bitter) and so I started putting my Twitter handle on my Tinder profile.  Wait.  Let me explain the logic of that because I swear there was some.  It started out because I thought that maybe (cringe for my gross ego) if men knew that I was even slightly funny and/or maybe interesting then they’d stop boring me with talk about their stupid penises and maybe try to have a conversation with me.

Then, it became about… welp if they won’t have a conversation with me because I might be awesome, maybe they’ll just be less offensive because I might make fun of them on a public platform.

For the majority of men, I doubt they even read my “profile” aka that otherwise unexplored space below a picture of me.  For reference, it currently says:

Is this app only for hooking up?

Are you trying to bore my vagina into submission?

Are you bothered that Subway lies about inches?

Twitter: @SSDated

 

That being said there have been a few cool guys who managed to check it out.  Well, technically, many guys could have read it and just thought I was the dumbest, but only a few guys have mentioned anything that wasn’t related to their cocks, so I’m making an educated guess here.

 

Now, why does this all suddenly weigh so heavily on me?

 

Because I went out with a guy.  He first contacted me through Plenty of Fish but in the time it took for me to be done with school, we had matched on Tinder.  And thus, he was exposed to my Twitter and this here blog.  And before you worry that I’m going to tear this poor guy apart on the internet and that that’s my big concern…

A.  Do I ever tear anyone apart who hasn’t been a total fucking d-bag to me?  (hint: no)

B.  Spoiler Alert:  he hasn’t been a d-bag to me

C.  Whether it’s good or bad or funny or weird or swoony and amazing, dating is a fickle bitch.  And while he’s probably too busy right now to even concern himself with reading my blog, I know he’s read posts before and possibly will again and I just don’t like the idea that something I say here could affect whatever we have going on.  Not to mention how sticky things could get if I start adding in some new characters, if you know what I mean (I just mean dating other guys, in case you didn’t feel like that was heavy handed enough).

And before you say that it’s not that serious, not that big of a deal.  I know from personal experience that it kind of is.  For those of you who have been around here long enough to remember The Vampire, that all fell to shit and I basically never heard from him after he found out I wrote about dating.  And while other guys have been more understanding…that’s not entirely the point.

After all, even at my most casual, even with a booty call, even when I couldn’t possibly have made any claim on a guy’s time or his dick, I still would’ve been upset, felt a little jilted, and honestly been kind of turned off if I had to read about a dude I’m with (however loosely) banging other chicks.  I always know, when dating, that these things are a potential reality but just like calories, I like to pretend they don’t exist.

So, are you with me so far?  Does this all make sense?  How I don’t want to fuck up my life (read: possible best summer ever!) by dropping a rock in the calm lake waters causing a ripple effect with the potential of a tsunami?  Okay, good.  But now what?

What do I do, about the website?  (which, in a bizarre side note has managed to have the highest readership I’ve ever had, even though I haven’t been posting much because of school).

Do I blog about everything anyway and hope it doesn’t change the course of whatever happens with any of the guys I go out with?  Do I write the posts now but save the posting until August?  Do I save it all and finally write that ebook that I’ve been meaning to and just release it all at once and make some money from the stories (which feels presumptuous and greedy but a girl has to eat, after all someone has to pay back this student loan to the government)?

And as a side note, if your suggestion is anything other than the first option…does that make for a summer of posting about what…feminism?  my personal weightloss?  body issues?  non-male-specific-sex-posts?  poetry?  shitty fiction?  ugh.