The End of Innocence

As I mentioned in my last post, I’ve been trying the online dating thing these days, and, I must say, I've been semi-successful...and by “successful,” I mean, I’ve been on a lot of different dates with a lot of different guys. 

The thing about online dating, for…me, I guess….is that I could have the same luck if I walked into a bar and said, “Um, Hello! I am looking for someone to sleep with on a regular basis. Wah wah, wa wawawa. wa wa wawawawawa.” In other words, some in the online dating scene see no difference betwixt it and the bar scene. 

But I am not online to "get laid." I don't need online for that. I am a woman with a woman's body. It's SCIENCE. I'm online to seek out connections, to discover people in my area that are my age that I might actually be compatible with outside the confines of propagation. Am I getting too vocabulary happy with you? Should I include a glossary? 

With this is mind, one must first accept the truth that, when given the opportunity to “sell” themselves, SOMETIMES BOYS TELL LIES. 

Par Example. 

Photo Credit to these silly guys: http://www.rad-dudes.com/?m=200912

I was on a date with a super cute guy I met on OkCupid that was a pretty high match for me. We were both into a lot of the same things, shared a lot of the same philosophies, but most importantly, when asked by the robot on the website, “Do you prefer to give or receive massages,” he marked “give,” and I marked, “receive.” 

Are you kidding me? I just found hit the jackpot. If things work out with this guy, I could be looking at a future of free massages for the foreseeable future without any sort of compensation required...I thought.  

I like getting massages and he likes giving massages. 

So we were on a date, and by “on a date,” I mean, we were making out on his couch, and I suddenly realized that I had never actually given him the chance/offered to let him give me a massage. So I asked him in my sexy voice "Hey...I hear you like to give massages,” and he answered, “Yeah. I do....I also like to get them.” 

...I laughed. HAHAHA. “Well, you wanna give me a massage?” 

He replied, "Sure. You wanna give ME one?" 

...

...

"But…on okcupid, you said you liked giving massages, and I said I liked receiving them." 

"Well, yeah. I like to give them, but I also like getting them. Who doesn’t like getting a massage?"

...

"...But…I don’t LIKE giving them. I like getting them...and I said that on OkCupid." 

"Well, there wasn't an option for both, so I just figured I’d say I like to give them because...why not?" 

...

…….Because why not? Because I don’t want to give massages. I don’t like it. It requires a great deal of effort, and, unless I’m getting paid, or…no….you’d pretty much need to pay me, I don’t want to waste my time rubbing on people’s bodies. I mean…is there anything wrong with that? I don’t think that makes me a bad person, or a selfish person. I think that just makes me human…and I was honest about it on OkCupid. I wasn’t like, “HEY! Why not?” I was like, "No. I don’t like giving massages."

BUT YOU. YOU skirted around the issue, “Sure. I prefer giving massages. I PREFER.”  The word prefer suggests you have an affinity for one over another. Given the choice to give or receive a massage, by marking that you “prefer to give” you are expressing to interested individuals, me, that you, more often than not, choose to be the GIVER of massages, and that, I say, is a noble answer. 

If someone were to ask me, “would you prefer to die in a violent car accident or die in your sleep,” my answer would, unequivocally be, “I would prefer to die in my sleep.” I don’t want to die in a violent car accident. I don’t want to do it. The same is true with giving massages. I don’t want to do it. If the fact that I don’t like to give makes me ignoble, then the fact that I am completely honest about that fact should absolutely absolve me of that sin. Along the same lines, If I fart in a room full of people, I will immediately own up to it. That way everyone can relax and not worry about whether they are no longer aware of or even in control of when they fart. I do that as a service to humanity. I tell the TRUTH. I believe there is honor in that. 

But now, thanks to you, my innocence is lost. I am painfully aware of the simple fact that YOU, sir, and perhaps a lot of others like you, are A BUNCH OF LIARS! AND YOU SMELL WEIRD. AND I JUST FARTED! TAKE IT TO THE DAMN BANK, WHY DONTCHA!?!?

AMIRIGHT?!?! Where my girls at?!?!

Some Thoughts on Bewbs

I recently tried to find "breasts humor" on Pinterest, and they told me, "We couldn't find any results for [that], but you might try Holidays, Corgis, Sneakers, or Pasta," (emphasis theirs).

My whim whams have grown from a size Brad Pitt to a size Danny DeVito since my freshman year in college, and I haven't gained A LOT of weight elsewhere.

When I wear something that I consider to be a bit revealing (keeping in mind that I'm kind of a prude), I will talk incessantly about how crazy big Burt and Ernie must look/worry about whether or not everyone thinks I'm a slut.

I've had improv coaches tell me to steer away from mentioning Fred and Ethel during a scene because it makes everyone in the audience look at 'em...because no one noticed until I said something...

I probably have a hunch back from trying to hide my jugs during church, and church school.

I enjoy my mammaries. At least when it's just me and them. And lavender bubble bath.

Once a young lesbian told me that she was sorry, but she just felt dirty looking at me in a low cut dress. I offered to wear a Burka around her. She didn't get the irony.

um.....are you even listening?

Guys will often inform me that my headlights are rather bright, and I'll kinda shake my head, shrug my shoulders and say, "yeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaah. I know. It's okay."

I get my melons from my grandmother on my dad's side. Aging gracefully for her included eventually being able to tuck her ta-ta's into her pants.

Every guy I've dated in the past has been a self-proclaimed "ass-man."

I displayed my wahwahs once during a sketch show I did to promote funny women. I was playing Hilary Clinton debating Sarah Palin on the sexualization of women. In the end, the only thing we could agree on was the fact that boobs are, in fact, AWESOME. We both took our tops off to reveal red and blue pasties. My tit-tays are so big, the ratio of pasty to boob was roughly 1: 90.

I have bras that I can successfully wear as hats.

I don't want anyone to think I'm complaining. I know it's hard to have bee stings as well. For those with the lil 'uns, the cup must sometimes seem half empty. If we could walk a mile in each other's bra, you might take mine off as soon as you get the chance, just so you can have an excuse not to go out, and I'd probably take yours off equally as fast just to experience the freedom of being small enough to go bra-less. Let's not argue. We're all different, and it's those differences (in neener sizes) that make us who we are.

Thanks for listening.

And be good to your