The Kinsey Report Redux (OkCupid Edition)

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My brain snapped. It was palpable, I felt it happened some time last month. I have barely set foot on Facebook, my usual internet stomping grounds, in weeks!  And you know where I’ve been all day and into the wee hours of the night: Scrolling the ho stroll on the OkCupid, I am obsessed. I can’t stop reading profiles and I have all new friends, we don’t just “like” each other’s profiles, we give them stars! And we don’t post pictures of our breakfast burritos, we take our pants off (proverbially and actually) with each other and show our junk. It is awesome.

My brain is so sexed up, I am like a teenage boy. Everything is innuendo, it’s ridiculous. Remainder man came over this morning and installed a new back liftgate handle, if that’s not porno plot right there, I don’t know what is. He took the broken one off with some great effort and grunting, “It’s so tight.” of course it is, and put the new one on, with a SCREW and kept muttering, “I can’t find the hole,” and I’m like, RIGHT HERE, MY MAN. I’m a teenager with an urban vocabulary of a seasoned pervert. My handle works like dream, by the way.

Scene:

I’m at a Farmer’s Market on one of those days that have passed recently, it’s been a blur. I’m eating a sausage, of course, watching one of those couples who walk around these places with their reusable bags filled with mystery chard and beets and radishes for what? You know all that shit will rot til next Tuesday but they still try even though they are both probably bored. It’s a heroic effort, coupledom is.

“What should we have for dinner tonight?” he asks in a politically correct way. My vagina cringes when men say things like that. YOU (man) can go out in the woods and hunt a deer and come home with it and I will cook it up on the fire YOU made and then WE will eat it with the chards of shite I, by myself because I don’t want you dragging at my heels, went and got at the fucking Farmer’s Market.

And she replies, all diplomatically: “Well what about the snapper with a tossed salad?”

And I, with my teen boy boner brain, translate: “Yes! They’re bringing in a lady pinch hitter for a threesome and they’ll be engaging in rim jobs! They are not so vanilla after all!” And they drive off in their Volkwagen Toureg and my faith in humanity was restored.

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So I am justifying my vast time suck on OkCupid as social research, kind of like a modern-day Kinsey report, that includes the wide world of interwebs, texting, sexting, dick ‘n’ pussy pics, hookups, booty calls, dates, and all the emotional discourse you would think would be masked in the anonymity of the internet. But isn’t. IT IS SO AMAZING.

I have some notes thus far, that I think I’ll just bang out randomly and maybe at some point it will all make sense…or maybe it’s not supposed to, who knows? Are you with me? Here goes:

I found my 99% match. What is that? Who cares? I do, I take these things seriously because I’ve answered so many fucking questions in the last few weeks, I have to respect the system. They match you somehow, based on how, not just what you answered in the thousands of questions they provide. I think they also use keywords from your profile and spy on you over a webcam. This dude, 99, I excitedly messaged him, he lives in the 50 kilometre radius. He’s cute and really funny. I say “,”Hi, blah blah blah, I like your profile, 99 blah blah” he messages “Thanks” and goes on my profile and writes more: “Your profile is fan-fucking-tastic! But you might want to tweak it if you want to meet some quality men but if you’re DTF then don’t change a thing.” I don’t really know what he means by “quality” as I love all my Cupidlings, they are dear in my heart. 99% says his dance card is full but he’ll put my on his bucket list. Oh lol. I have since cast my net wider and found more 99%’s and I’m seriously going to need to dust off my passport to GGG all of them. I don’t know what that means either.

Where does the jizz go? That’s one of the questions they ask. It’s not a rhetorical question like where time flitters away, it’s for practical purposes. I know precisely where I want the jizz to go, and I am answering the question from another one of my 99%’s profile, if I say an answer and he says some other answer and feels it is very important I that I answer a certain way, THIS MAY JEOPARDIZE OUR RATING! I’m sweating over this, IT’S REAL LIFE, PEOPLE, NOT A GAME! WHERE DOES THE JIZZ GO????? I answer with honesty and figure, if he answers differently then oh well, HE LIVES FUCKING ILLINOIS ANYWAY! So I answer, gingerly: The Face. Hit “Answer” button, hold breath…..And his answer? The Face. OMG, if I wasn’t smitten already, I was OVER THE MOON. And yes, the jizz goes on the face, do not judge, I am a grown ass woman and that’s where I like it. I’ll explain later when we get to why I don’t date vegans.

Moving your conversations over to Kik: This means only one thing: Powder up your decollete, because you are going to be sending pictures now. When they ask: “Let’s swap pics” they don’t want your face, they mean release the hounds and take off your panties. I am of two minds about this: I DO NOT LIKE DOING THIS AND I DON’T WANT TO DO THIS. There’s no real pay off here. I learned the hard way, I sent a pussy pic to a dude who wanted it soooooo bad, whatevs, I really don’t care about disembodied parts out in the ether or nudity in general for that matter. There’s a vast array of cold cuts out on Reddit GoneWild, I could have just sent someone else’s but no, I spent a half a day fluffing my cooch up, getting just the right angle, talking to it, glistening it with Elizabeth Arden’s 8 Hour Cream, smoothing out the lips just so, twisting my arm around my thigh so I could snap the picture head on and finally got a shot I was satisfied with and sent it. Here is how the conversation went:

Me: Here is pussy  ((:))

He: Ohhhh…what’s that?

Me: What do you mean?

He: On the top part?

Me: The pubes you mean?

He: Oh pubic hair! I haven’t seen that!

Me: I’m a 70s child, they’re totally groomed as a small triangle and bald on the sides, WTF?

He: No, no, it’s okay

Me: Why did you want me to send it anyway?

He: Because I like your personality.

See what I have to deal with?

Why do people send dick pics anyway? As a woman, do you find they help or harm their owners’ causes, or is it only the…notable ones which can help?  My very favourite Cupidling asked me this the other day. I never really ask for a dick pic, they just somehow insist on sending them. I know when I get one, and I praise it, I will get another one in an even more erect state shortly thereafter. This happens 100% of the time. One can conclude, the reason they send dick pics is they want you to praise it. That is all. I feel there is no more cause after the sent button is pressed. Nice HUGE dick, the end.

Booty Call Protocol: I have no hard fast rules on this! I am a free bird! I have never felt so empowered in my entire life! What makes a booty call come into fruition? I have no idea. Some of the Cupidlings I just want to wait for, milk it out in messaging. I know dudes hate that (“I don’t want to be penpals”) but the art of wooing a lady is to get in her head, that is where is the juice comes from! Seriously, be patient. On the other hand, there are certain times where I can just let it happen. I’m always all nervous with that fight or flight conundrum but! THERE WAS A FULL MOON TWO WEEKS AGO AND I HAD ORGASMPALOOZA. I’m so glad I chose fight both times. I appreciated the simple details that were involved, one guy wore elasticized waist track pants and the other guy answered his door in a towel so there was no outfit I could judge harshly. Like pointy shoes and an Ed hardy tshirt would be a deal breaker. Flight!

And here is a cautionary tale: This weekend, one dumb dude who pretends to read Chomsky, messaged me as he does every second weekend when he doesn’t have his kids, I recognize his pattern already. I almost caved. His give zero fucks attitude toward wooing me or even bothering to read my profile and understand its subtle nuances, almost charmed me. His face was that kind of white guy face I hate, I could totally hate fuck him and it would be awesome, I’ve read his pretentious asshole profile before but I looked closer and noticed he was a vegan! I can’t with that! I messaged him quickly before I completely caved in: “You are a vegan, your jizz lacks the essential meat enzymes I need for my face 😦 ” And then he said: “But I have the meat!” And an hour later, he sent me a dick pic. And I did not know what to say. His junk was all splayed and mangled out over top of his boxers. IT LOOKED LIKE BUTTERMILK BRINED CHICKEN PIECES BEFORE THE PANKO BREADCRUMBS. My vagine might be a lot of things, but it isn’t a deep fryer, there was no way that was going in me. FLIGHT!

All I can say is the full moon can’t come fast enough….

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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One response »

  1. I’m glad to see your writing is as delectably loud and as sensually crisp as ever. Origins are always a good place (thing) to revisit.

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