This Has Been a Big MisTINDERstanding!

Tinder

 

*Disclaimer:  there are lots of amazing, intelligent, enlightened, fantastic men out there (Unfortunately, for me, I’m related to most of the ones I know).  But seriously, I always hope that when I write these ranty bits that men who are awesome are just like phew! I’m awesome! (but are also a little embarrassed about humanity, as I am).

I have to admit that Tinder has me stumped.  I heard this rumor that it was a dating app, however, all evidence has been to the contrary — showing me that meh it’s probably not.  That being said, I still don’t really believe it’s a hook-up app…

Because I can’t believe anyone would have sex with the majority of these dudes!

And before you think I’m some awful judgmental bitch (I mean I probably am, but not for this), I should mention that it has nothing to do with looks.  The men who match and contact me are all mostly of one type — the absolute fucking dumbest.  This, in turn, brings up a greater issue, which is–why aren’t men more ashamed of themselves and embarrassed to be stupid and boring? (but we’ll deal with this one another time).

And while I understand the whole impetus to say bullshit nonsense like boys will be boys and dudes just want to get their dicks wet um is that really all we’re capable of a species?  I don’t understand why the world expects me to be pretty, and fit, and sexy, and smart, don’t forget funny, and interesting, kind and considerate, a real cutie pie, to smile all the time, except when I’m crying over a man obviously, gracious, empathetic, and great at all things sex related…but dudes can just be pieces of shit and no one seems to care because cock and balls and stuff.

The one upside to Tinder, so far, has been the ego boost.  For those of you who sometimes doubt your own attractiveness, Tinder may just be the thing you need.  Even while being selective (at least I think I am, I guess I’d need to sit side by side someone else making the same observations to know if I find men, on the whole, too attractive but generally speaking I’m probably swiping right for about 1 in every 20-40 guys), and with that being said I still managed to find myself somewhere around 700 matches.  Now, don’t get too excited…of those 700 matches, I probably get a message from maybe 50% (the other 50% I’m assuming were either drunk when they swiped, or didn’t realize I was as chubby as I am till they saw the other pictures).  Nonetheless, and maybe you guys are all getting way more matches or something but whatever, that’s way more men than I thought would find me attractive.

Now, I can practically hear you saying it Why don’t you just get off this app if you hate it so much?

Welp.  Because nothing is ever ALL bad, except maybe cilantro (blech! that shit tastes like handsoap!)  But, I have this fucked up sense of hope that I’ve just had bad luck thus far.  And that maybe all the really awesome guys who don’t think I’m just a piece of shit vagina that isn’t worthy of their most basic sense of decency are just around the corner.

OR…at the very least that somewhere along the way I’ll figure out why these guys are all so awful and so completely and entirely okay with that.  Either or.

Have you had some great experiences with Tinder?  Are you banging chicks left and right or meeting all the dudes that I wish I was for some great sex?  Are you the girl I thought I was but apparently no longer am who can just message up a hot dude and go meet for a drink and a fuck and have the time of your life?  If so, I want to hear all about it (but be forewarned, I’m skeptical as fuck, and will likely want to see some kind of proof lol I’m such an asshole but whatever, you still kinda love me right?!?!) anyway…email me at SomethingSheSaid@gmail.com if you want to share your story.  XOXOXOXO – Victoria

How to Screw Yourself Out of Getting Screwed: Lessons in How To NOT Have a One Night Stand

 

[dropcap]T[/dropcap]he first time I tried to have a one night stand I may I repeat MAY have been rushing my young self a little fast.  You see up until that point I had only ever made out with a boy (whose attempts at fondling I’d brushed aside).  But as far as feasts or famines go, I was in the mood for a feast, or at least wanted to get stuffed and in my excitement and never having actually seen a real live grown up man penis before (and by seen I’m speaking metaphorically as the tent was a black hole of darkness…I couldn’t see anything) I was unsure of how to proceed.  And thus…in my overzealousness, squeezed a little too hard…which in turn made sure that he was not.  He suggested I suck his dick.  I was 17 and inexperienced but smart enough to know I wasn`t interested in going down on some random…in a tent…who I was only vaguely interested in…while my entire grad class partied in near pitch blackness…in the middle of the forest…of a logging road…near Harrison.  And thus my first one night stand fell flat…much like his flacid penis.

And for someone as experienced as I, as I look back now, I’ve had a surprising number of near misses, total failures and all out regrettable blunders.  It would appear that instead of being queen of the casual sex…I may in fact be its court jester.

 

There were times when the malfunctions were mechanical (theirs…not My machinery).  There was a fella named Doug when I was in 2nd year university.  He didn’t watch TV.  He didn’t even own one.  I should’ve known right then it would never work.  He was 30.  I was…19…barely.  And his height matched my experience…short.  And while I may have had some trepidation…the problem was really on his end…and his tiny penis…that…well…never seemed to get quite hard enough…and given that I’d maybe had sex twice before (and I’m not even talking with 2 guys…I literally mean 2 times)…well…it was not the little engine that could.  We eventually parted ways with a few shrugs, a few embarrassed smirks, and after he was on his way I’m pretty sure I made some ichiban noodles in my hot pot and watched some sex and the city in the common room, no biggie.  I imagine he went home and cried.  But that’s just me.

 

There were times when location became a problem.  There was the guy from Blaine who I met at the nightclub just this side of the border (for the life of me I can’t remember what it was called).  My friends and I used to frequent the bar on wednesday nights…for the hip hop…for the Americans…for the black guys.  Ironically, Spencer, was as white as white can be.  But he was cute and American and that was good enough.  Only…there were a few hiccups.  You see, Spencer lived with his parents (a fact I didn’t find out till way later and would’ve been helpful to explain the route we took).  When we left the nightclub he suggested we stop by a friend of his place because he was having a party.  Now perhaps I didn’t speak American at the time because I misunderstood party to mean party but not Spencer…to him party meant helping my friends move at 2am.  Um…what…the…fuck.  I sat on a couch.  He helped his friends move.  We ended up making out in a car later.  A makeout session he clearly didn’t deserve given the weird happenings.  But since I wasn’t interested in fucking in a car, at 4am, in Blaine, when it was freezing outside…we eventually called it a night…and I dropped him off at his parents house.  Worst.

 

There were times when excessive substances were an issue (like with Marcothe drug dealer…should’ve seen that coming)…there were times when the presence of a girlfriend only came up after the things had already got rolling…like with Ricky…the firefighter with a girlfriend who said “but I can still finger you”…um…no thanks…I’m all set dude…unfortunately, given that we were both sleeping over at a friend’s house there was no easy exit…so instead I just kicked his ass to the floor)…and then there were simply just those times when the dicks came out just as the dicks were coming out (like with…uh…too many to mention…but when fellas were about to get laid and just couldn’t help talking themselves out of getting some).  Worst, boys…worst.

That being said, there was definitely a time or two when the act of non-consummation was entirely my fault.  Like blatantly, hands down, no question, because of something I did.  And admittedly the thing I did was usually another guy, but there’s neither here nor there.

 

The Bouncer. There used to be this bouncer *cough* at Atlantis *cough* who was such a fine specimen of hot huge beefy muscley manliness that a girl could hardly be expected to be responsible for her actions.  The truth is, I barely remember what his face looked like…but years later I can still picture him in all his bouncing glory.  He’s was a black Adonis.  No question.  And while I didn’t frequent the nightclub, I had seen him more than once, maybe he freelanced, maybe I had just seen him out at the club and in my dreams but regardless, he was hot and I wanted him.

And that’s basically what I told him.  Walked right up to him…and said:

You…are taking me home.  Tonight.

To which he said, with a face chiseled in stone, give me your number, I’ll call you as soon as I’m off.  And so I did.

Unfortunately, I continued to party.  A couple friends and I headed over to the Purple Onion where we had several bouncer/bartender friends who were continuing the night after hours.  Now as far as I can remember the bouncer called pretty soon after.  I told him where I was and he said, I’ll come get you.  Yes.  I said.

Only then I got distracted.  Because you see there were other boys.  And coupled with the boozing and other illicit activities, it was really no wonder that when he showed up, I was already interested in another party with another boy.  In hindsight, I totally made the wrong choice but I was young and foolish and a bird in the hand was better than a hot bouncer in a car waiting outside for me…right?  Wrong.  Life lesson learned.  Always ALWAYS pick the hot bouncer who looks like he could take down the hulk with just a look.

And fyi (before you think…well that’s not really a story of fucking up a one night stand because she still got it on with someone…I did not, in fact, get anything on with choice number 2.  Probably because I sobered up and realized the erroneous decision I had made.  Not to mention I felt like a total dick for having lured the bouncer around to where I was, only to never go down and meet him.  See that’s the thing about being 21, you’re a moron.  And an asshole.  When Mr. Bouncer came around, I never even went down to tell him that I had made a change of plans.  I just left him out there.  In his car.  Till he presumably figured I was never coming.  Total Dick Move.  Worst.)

And those, my friends, are just a few of the many tales I have of one night stands gone awry, or really, one night stands that never even occurred at all.

 

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