Flirting with Fannies

A couple of weeks ago, I was so bored of boys that I switched my Tinder ‘discovery preference’ to females. No prior thought was put into the decision; I just did it. So, although I’ve never done more than kiss a girl, I do think they’re amazing. Girls are just better to look at. They have a way of being simultaneously delicate and strong, chaste and coquettish, and you can empathise with them in a way that you can’t with men. 

I think I went in to it with romanticised expectations of connecting on deeper levels and actually being able to have conversations with like-minded women, as opposed to wading through the shit that men tend to spew. I was wrong. So wrong.

Here are some things that I have learnt grossly generalised about the lady loving ladies of Tinder –

  • They are not afraid to show you their boobs, two messages in.
  • They are not afraid to ask to see your boobs, two messages in.
  • They love straight girls. Direct quote – ‘I love straight girls‘.
  • Asian girls are always shocked to find another Asian girl. Every. Single. Time.
  • They like to ask if you’ve ‘been with a lot of guys‘. 
  • They want to show you ‘how to lick pussy‘. Apparently it’s different when a girl does it.
  • They have no problem getting naked on those stupid Tinder ‘moments’ that ALL your matches can see for 24 hours. 
  • They want to sext. All. The. Time.
  • Tattoos and piercings are a big thing. 
  • 80% are super sporty.

Here is what I learnt about myself from flirting with fannies –

  • I am 100% more likely to show my boobs to a girl than a boy. Because that’s what happened.
  • I literally think eyebrows are everything. But I already knew that.
  • I’m essentially attracted to hotter versions of myself. Basically, Esmeralda.

This is what I think I look like when I put coloured contacts in. If only.

  • I have no problem telling anyone that I want to sit on their face.
  • I think sexting is really dull.
  • I would rather look at boobs than a dick pic.
  • I would rather look at a dick pic than a pussy pic.
  • Other people’s vaginas make me wonder about my own. 

Considering that two boys are currently trying to ask me out on dates and all the girls only want to talk about putting their tongues in unmentionable places, as opposed to actually doing it, girl-on-girl action does not seem to be on the cards. For now, at least. Disappointing, or what?

Ladies, have you experienced other girls on some kind of dating platform? Fellas, does your experience of girls differ greatly?

You know that I could use somebody..

So, last night, after watching the new Made In Chelsea (yes, I watch it; no, I’m not ashamed of that) I was telling a friend how the show essentially leaves me with no faith in men. This quickly turned into a bit of a ‘men are shit’ moan as I started watching John Tucker Must Die afterwards. Though he was technically not wrong to counter with positing that women can also be pretty shit, it wasn’t what I wanted to hear and our conversation went something like this:

Me – True, except I don’t know any shady girls. But 90% of boys I know are shit to girls

W – True. 90% of girls I know use men

Me – I don’t use men

W – Tinder Ginger?

I matched Tinder Ginger (TG) a couple of weeks ago, and, after a few days of talking, he decided to strike whilst the iron was hot and ask to meet up. So, we pencilled in plans for the following week. However, whilst I was slightly tipsy and out with my friends that Friday, I messaged him and asked what he was up to. Long story short – we met up, went for a drink, and went back to his.

I don’t think I need to tell you what occurred back at his, but I will; SEX. Sex occurred. Sex occurred after four months of not occurring.

I didn’t need to clarify that for you, did I? Who wouldn’t understand that that was essentially the plan from the get go? What boy doesn’t take a drunk girl asking ‘wanna do something?’ on a Friday night to mean ‘wanna fuck?’

With that in mind, here’s the rest of the conversation with W:

Me – I don’t think I used him. He knew what that was

W – So? Knowing doesn’t stop it being using

Me – Not if it’s mutual

W – You Tindered him for just sex. That’s by definition using. You used him. You knew it was just sex. He clearly didn’t as he’s still talking to you

Me – No one meets on Tinder and has sex straight away and thinks it’s more than just sex

W – He does

Me – Nah, it’s friendly

W – Is this how you get all your friends?

I maintain that I didn’t use the boy because there’s no way he didn’t know what that whole dalliance was about, and I think that knowing does stop it from being using. I didn’t lie to him or deceive him in any way. He understood what I wanted and complied accordingly. Also, he had a fucking great time. A better time than me, even. I know because I kept count.

TG was actually a really nice guy – a 26 year old graphic designer who not only somehow found the patience to listen to his crazy one night stand talk about her love of penguins in children’s books, but also knew the books, and their authors and illustrators. We got along really well, minus his incessant need to cuddle, and I ended up staying ’til half past one the next day. But it was what it was, and I didn’t really expect to hear from him again.

After I left his house, I went to meet W for lunch (in my same clothes – so classy, I know), and in the twenty minutes it took me to get to Carnaby Street, I knew that I didn’t really have any intention of seeing him again. I’d gotten what I set out to get and so I was over it.

Okay, so I suppose if you want to be a pedantic little bitch about it, I may have used him. If you’re not a cunt, however, you’ll see that the negative connotations of ‘using someone’ don’t really apply here and no gingers were harmed in the quenching of my thirst.

What do you think? Did I use the kid? Or is it just part of the nature of adult sexual relationships?

What’s in a name? That which we call a whore…

When I was at school, I used to flirt with the barista at my local Starbucks to get free syrups and espresso shots, as well as the occasional lemon and poppy seed muffin.

Sometimes, when I’m out in da club, I make ‘the eyes’ at random men so as to milk them for free drinks.

Last summer, I gave my friend a blow job in exchange for him purchasing me an ice cream.

Which one of these sounds the worst to you? No, you’re wrong. Try again.

Trading actual sexual favours for material edible goods may seem like the most slutty and whore like thing to do here, but, if you think about it, it’s really the most honest and forthright. Are you thinking about it? Do you get it? Let me explain –

So, it was the first week of September and London was going through some kind of disgusting heat wave. I’m talking old men with their moobs out on the tube, sweaty fannies gasping for air, everything smelling like balls, and thunder thighs everywhere chafing in full force kind of disgusting. It was grim. To make matters worse, W and I were holed up in a classroom on campus, slowly losing the will to live. He was revising for an exam and I was line editing my thesis. LINE EDITING. Do you honestly know of anything worse?! As the day wore on and we started to become more and more unfocused, he started to subtly suggest that we have sex. But, alas, I was on my period. IN THAT HEAT. Like I said – slowly losing the will to live. Now, we all know that in boys’ minds, period week = blowjob week, so it’s no big surprise where the discussion quickly headed. Due to aforementioned heat and leaky vagina, I wasn’t in the most selfless of moods – so we started to barter.

Did I want a coffee? No. Did I want an IOU? No. Did I want a gin ‘n’ tonic? No. Did I want to just make a mess and have sex anyway? No. Did I want an ice cream? Fuck yes.

It was literally that simple. We got under the desk and got to it. 8 minutes later I was skipping down the stairs, excited to wrap my tongue around something far sweeter.

We both knew exactly what was going on. We knew exactly what we were giving, and we knew exactly what we were getting in return. No miscommunication. No misdirection. No bullshit.

What’s so bad about that?

We’ve all been – or encountered – the girl who bats her lashes, flashes a smile and somehow ends up with a double vodka and lemonade in her hand. We all know that look on the guy’s face when the girl walks away – that really sad cross between bewildered and defeated. It’s kind of pathetic. Having said that, men shouldn’t be so fucking naive. It is highly unlikely that the girl way hotter than you is actually interested in what your mother said on the phone this morning or how you deal with your receding hairline. You need a reality slap. Moreover, no one likes girls who do this! Obviously I’m okay with it, though, as I do tend to do it from time to time; only when I’m really drunk, though, and my conscience has been rendered to that of a free loading slut. I feel bad in the morning, if that means anything.

Anyway, as you can see, this kind of situation is full of deception and manipulation, people not knowing where they stand, and people getting let down. Now, that’s bad.

If you hadn’t realised, I like to be candid. It makes life infinitely easier, and, let’s face it, more entertaining. So I propose this – next time you want something, ask for it. Don’t lie and cheat your way to it. Ask for it straight up and then haggle your way to it. This is literally how civilisations are built. Anth 101 – Gift Exchange, bitches.

I know, I know; you’re sceptical and you still think I’m a whore. Frankly, I think I undersold myself.

The DENNIS System aka The Bullshit We Keep Falling For

First off, if you’ve never seen an episode of It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia, you’re doing life wrong. It’s on Netflix; watch it. I don’t have Netflix, but pretty much every man I’ve slept with does, so I figure it’s fairly common and that, if you’re not currently destitute like I am, you probably have it, too.  Anyway, It’s Always Sunny is an awesome show. It has that classic ‘friends who own a bar together and get up to all sorts of shit’ set-up, and Danny DeVito’s in it. What more could you want?

The show is definitely not for the sensitive or highly strung; if you’re offended by not-so-casual sexism or racism, if you have a problem with drug use, prostitution and taking advantage of those less fortunate, or essentially don’t like anything morally depraved, maybe give it a miss. Each character is unbelievably obnoxious and selfish, devoid of any sense of human decency or decorum, but, fuck, they’re hilarious. The writing on the show is genius and the chemistry between the cast is inimitable – but I’m not here to give a review, just watch it!

In one episode, the group’s resident lothario and probable sociopath, Dennis Reynolds, teaches the gang his bulletproof system for getting countless women to fall hopelessly in love with him – The D.E.N.N.I.S System.

The way that he embarks on each step may be more than a little extreme, but that’s just the nature of the show. You don’t need to ‘Nurture Dependence’ by calling her house and pretending to be a murderer or rapist, most girls start to become unwittingly dependent just through text conversations alone. I don’t think The D.E.N.N.I.S System is at all unique to Dennis. I think that a lot of boys do it, and a lot of girls, myself included, get sucked in. This is what you’re falling for, ladies:

Demonstrate Value

The idea here is that once a man demonstrates his value to a woman, she’ll realise his worth and that she needs him in her life. Being 23 and not looking for value beyond the ability to make me laugh and cum (even if at the same time), I’m not entirely sold on this step, though I think it’ll become increasingly relevant as I get older and do understand where it’s coming from. After all, why would you want someone who doesn’t add anything to your life?

Engage Physically

It is commonly thought that women develop stronger feelings and become more attached once they ‘Engage Physically’. I have friends that this holds extremely true for, and friends that it doesn’t apply to at all – we’re not a one size fits all kinda deal, guys. Having said that, I would say that most girls I know fall in the former. So, by doing the sex, boys become fairly certain that their girl isn’t going anywhere. I don’t know if they think it’s because of the ‘connection’ they’ve just created or because they think their D is so good she won’t want to go anywhere, but, sadly, it does seem to work.

Nurturing Dependence

It’s no mistake that this step follows on from all the sexy time. Once a man’s clumsily bruised my breasts, fingered me like he’s digging for gold in a Smarties tube, and then gotten jizz in my hair, of course I’m going to be putty in his hands. This is the perfect time to nurture that. Contrary to what the show may suggest, you don’t need to hire someone to stab your lover, narrowly missing a major artery so that you can then nurse them back to health, thus making them dependent on you. Like I said, a lot of gals will fall for something as simple as texting. I hadn’t thought of it in terms of dependence until just now, as I think I, like most people, saw it more in terms of attention; it’s all that ‘if he texts you, it means he’s thinking about you’ bullshit we’ve been fed. How many times have you heard a girl say she just wants someone to text? Apparently, we love that shit, and, essentially, once the chat’s started, we don’t want it to stop. Dependence.

Neglect Emotionally and Inspire Hope

Even if you don’t really buy into the rest of this ‘system’, you know these are fo’ real. I put these two together because they really do go hand in hand. Dennis is basically saying to play hot and cold. Hands up if this has happened to you. I imagine this has probably happened to everyone ever, regardless of gender, but in my experience, boys are especially good at it. They nurture all this dependence, making you want to talk to them and see them and even fake your way through mediocre banging, just to pull a disappearing act on you. You then spend days, or even weeks, wondering what you did to make them behave this way. Then, just when you’re ready to stop wallowing and move on, they reappear. Obviously you’re so elated that they’ve come back to you with whatever lame excuse they’ve made up that you look past it and jump into bed with them straight away. Maybe you even let them give you that facial they’ve been begging for. It’s great. You’re lying in one another’s arms, basking in the afterglow of their orgasm, because obviously you didn’t have one, and everything is perfect. Two days later, they disappears again. It becomes a cycle because you allow it to. I’m telling you now, end it before they decides to go ahead and

Separate Entirely

Oh, you didn’t? How unsurprising. Oh, they’re gone for good? How predictable.

Sisterhood of the World Bloggers Award

Having only been blogging for four months, I was unaware that there were awards and the like for this shizz! It was such a sweet surprise to be nominated by dudesandshit, who is, by the way, hilarious – check her out! I think this is a lovely way of creating awareness of other women’s writing and such a fun way of showing someone that you love their stuff!

blogger

To accept the award:

  • link the person who nominated you
  • nominate and link 10-12 other women’s blogs that you love to read
  • and answer the [random] questions below

Your favourite colour? Green

Your favourite animal? Giraffes, elephants, owls, penguins, monkeys

Favourite non alcohol drink? Coffee

Facebook or Twitter? I check both constantly

Your favourite pattern? It’s not something I’ve ever considered.. floral?

Do you prefer getting or giving presents? If we’re being totally honest.. getting. Same applies to oral

Your favourite number? 3, 13

Your favourite day of the week? post-MSc life, ie, unemployment, makes every day pretty much the same

Your favourite flower? Lillies and orchids

What is your passion? I DON’T KNOW. Hence my current predicament

Here are the lovely ladies that I nominate

Incurably Curious

Hacker. Ninja. Hooker. Spy.

The People I Have Slept With

thingsmyexsaid

Yoonanimous

Girl, Intoxicated

wanderingwalls

My Disgraceful Life

sophiaspeaks

Young & Clueless

I hope you enjoy them as much as I do!

Hilarious things I say

Some of you may be aware of a little series I have going called ‘Dumb shit men say‘, where I post some of the crap that guys send me on various dating sites – if not, have a peek here. Even though I’m nowhere near as bad, I can get a little creative with my openings too; ‘Hi! How are you?‘ is just too mundane. So, here are some of the hilarious dumb things I say…

Sometimes I like to be a little bit random

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Sometimes I like to be a little bit offensive

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And sometimes, just sometimes, I like to be a little bit creepy

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‘Being there for her’

So I was watching Friends this morning – as you do on a Saturday (and every other day of the week) – and it was ‘The One Where Rachel Finds Out’. The title is irrelevant ’cause that’s not the story line that caught my attention, but I thought I’d say anyways. The secondary story line was that Joey was taking part in a fertility experiment, rendering him unable to have sex with the woman he was seeing. He expressed his concerns to the gang, saying that he didn’t know what to do because she’d be expecting sex. This is when Monica chimed in with:

Have you ever thought about being there for her?

Joey’s confusion got me thinking about how selfish men can be in bed, and how so many of them think that sex is finished when they’re finished. Sometimes it’s okay, sex can still be good even without a climax. And sometimes it’s necessary, as in, sometimes you fake a finish just to make it stop. We’ll start with the latter.

I have a problem with ‘faking it’. It gives the man a sense of accomplishment that he doesn’t deserve. He’ll carry on thinking he’s great in the sack, inflicting his tired ‘skills’ on other poor girls – he’ll never learn. This is why I have only faked it once.

It was in my third year of undergrad, with a ginger boy who had always liked me, and so who I turned to in times of desperation and recklessness. The night we finally went home together may have been the highlight of his year. I know that sounds conceited, but my housemates did come home to find him in my bed, supposedly with the biggest, happiest grin on his face. What can I say? I’m a catch. Long story short, the kid had no idea what he was doing. He tried, bless him, but it was dull as fuck. I had two options – teach him, or fake it. I went with fake it, and now he’s probably still out there fumbling around other helpless girls. The worst part was that he looked so pleased with himself, obviously thinking he was great and knew where everything was. Poor, deluded food. So, much to my dismay, we proceeded to cuddle for the acceptable minimum amount of time. And then I sent him home before the sun came up.

I’d faked it because I was bored, and wanted him to stop. But even boys who do know what they’re doing can have difficulties. Sometimes there’s just not enough time, sometimes you just aren’t in the mood, and sometimes they’re just thoughtless. Men are unsettled in their minds – they say they don’t want you to fake it, but then they’re upset when you don’t finish; they don’t put the work in, but then they’re upset when you don’t finish. It’s about their pride, and not your pleasure. But why should I validate you when you haven’t worked for it? Put the work in and you’ll get results. Then everyone wins. Last week, W, who is generally great (and who will wonder if I’m just saying that because he reads this), said:

How do I make you cum before I cum?

The problem wasn’t that he didn’t know what he was doing or where everything was. The issue was time. Having sex in public places necessitates quickness – and we all know most boys have no issue with being quick if we let them. It wasn’t that he didn’t try – he just didn’t try for long enough. And then once he was done, we were done. I call him out on it constantly, and although I’m aware that our time limit is a major factor so it’s unlikely to change, a girl can always hope, ya know?

A month or so ago, when a mistake we’ll call B, clocked that what he was doing wasn’t working, he said:

What do you like?

Although I’d rather he just knew, I appreciated him asking. I should have told the ginger boy what I liked and how to do it – it would have been in both of our best interests. Regarding B, I was too drunk to remember anything beyond that; I couldn’t tell you if he put the work in and if it paid off. Probably not.

For so many boys, sex is about them and their orgasm. They’ll do the required amount of foreplay and then you’re essentially a jizz disposal system. It’s not all boys – some boys are generous. And girls aren’t beyond being selfish either. But it should be balanced. There should be give and take and communication. Sometimes, though, sometimes you should just be there for her.why-do-women-fake-orgasms-L-44L0Id