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?!?!

More Like Farts and Crafts

Look. I'm a girl. I can do things. I can do a lot of things. I can cook, clean (I am ABLE), train a dog, grow vegetables, fold clothes, write, edit, wax academic, be sexy, be casual, bathe myself, eat an entire pint of Ben & Jerry's in one sitting, binge watch television on Netflix (or any channel offering an America's Next Top Model marathon), read, snore, swallow more than one pill at a time, exercise, cycle, drive a stick shift, gossip, give advice, tell jokes, do shots, do my hair, pack a bowl, read a newspaper, teach a class, follow instructions...I could go on forever. I can do anything really, except CRAFT.

It's not that I CAN'T craft, and it's not that I don't like crafting...no...it is that I don't like it. I don't want to do it. If you're thinking about inviting me to a crafting extravaganza, you might want to think again. And no, adding wine as an incentive will NOT make me somehow want to come to your craft party. I can drink wine any time I want. I'm an adult. I don't need the excuse of a party to drink wine. I have a dog, a couch, a library of books, a television set, AND a box full of cheap wine glasses. I can drink wine on my own and not feel an OUNCE of guilt. There's no magic in taking a handful of buttons and some Mod Podge that will somehow make me feel like drinking wine is suddenly OKAY. I already think drinking wine is okay. There are no superlatives to the word "okay."

I have listened to friends that I LOVE, that I think are the coolest people, BEG me to come to their crafting parties, and I didn't argue. I just laughed. I just laughed. You think I can't talk girl talk with you unless I'm gluing lace to a pillow? Look, I wear makeup. I know the art of seduction. I don't need to prove it by crafting a birthday party for my boyfriend (Okay. I don't have a boyfriend, but if I did, I wouldn't make decorations for his birthday party. I would invite his friends and buy booze. What more could he want?).

And don't think I haven't tried it. I've tried crafting parties. I usually just sit there watching everyone dive into these incredibly intricate and thoughtful projects while I finish off a whole bottle of wine. The only thing I get out of a craft party is purple lips and teeth. Sometimes I cover my fingers in glue and peel it off...cuz that's fun, but I rarely get into the spirit of creativity.

And I KNOW....OMG, I KNOW that it might make Christmas shopping easier. I could just make some crappy hand made cards for people and drop them in the mail and BOOM...Christmas is done, and I feel no guilt for how broke I am. I made pretty things for you. Except that was more okay when I was a kid and making macaroni collages.

You know what. That's what I'm going to do. I'm going to make macaroni collages for ALL OF YOU. Macaroni, Elmer's glue all, washable markers, and maybe my handprint. And you HAVE to love it...because I DIY-ed it. I freaking do-it-yourselfed that shit.

Finally, in protest of the most harmless of all of the activities (because, honestly, ladies, more power to you), I'm going to have a girl party where we just drink wine, listen to music, and fart (which means I'll be inviting you to a regular day in my life at my apartment). Who's in?

I have no pictures for this blog.....yet.