Social Experiment

I’ve decided that for the next few days (or less, we’ll see how long I can actually keep it up) I’m going to respond to every single message I get in my inbox on the dating site. Unless I’m super creeped out, in which case I’ll just respond with a block, hehe. Since I mainly only don’t reply to people that I’m not interested in, I imagine it will be a lot of messages where I say, “Not interested, thanks.” I’m curious to see how people react to straightforwardness.

I’ve already had a couple ridiculous conversations. They will be screenshotted and posted probably tomorrow. Or maybe I’ll do a big post of the most hilarious ones at the end of this little experiment. We’ll see!

Anyway, I imagine that most people don’t reply to every message they get. If you do, what are the most interesting reactions you’ve gotten?

Trying to garner all the data I can. (That’s what happens when you have a master’s degree in political science, aka the art of survey methodology and making people into numbers!)

Boys (And Girl)

The Lawyer is really fun in bed but I’ve started seeing his personality a little more too. He’s pretty hilarious and a little weird like me. Fun to hang out with, excited to see him again tonight.

Saw the Rockstar a couple days ago. Ugh, if the sex lasts less time than it takes me to drive to someone’s house, we’ve got a problem. Such a big difference from the last time around… I don’t get it.

Last night I went out dancing with the Fashionista. She brought along two guy friends and once we were all sufficiently drunk they were both all over me… It was so awkward. I am not remotely attracted to either of them and I kept dancing away from them, pretending I was too drunk to realize they wanted to grind on me.

Thank goodness for J, my fucking midnight hero. Or 2 am hero as the case might be. I texted him to see if I could go over there and thankfully he answered. I even showed the Fashionista our texts so she would be understanding when I left once the club started winding down. And I thought she was, but later on she sent me a text that went something along the lines of “You shouldn’t have left so early and suddenly, you’re always too busy for me.”

How do I explain to this chick that as interested as I am in her, her friends (fuck buddies I think actually) are the ones that make me keep wanting to leave? Without sounding like a cunt, obviously. And honestly I’m starting to lose interest in her too, she’s a bit too clingy. I need to figure this shit out – decide whether I want to keep trying to close the deal and then call it quits or just skip straight to the calling it quits part.

And as far as J is concerned, well it bears repeating that he’s awesome. I’d hang out with him all the time if I could. I guess that’s the downside of being someone’s fuck buddy though. At some point the fucking will end and we won’t hang out anymore, which really sucks. I’ve never quite mastered the art of turning a fuck buddy into an actual friend that I hang out with sans sex. The opposite transition is obviously much easier.

But he’s one of those people – I’m sure we’ve all met someone like this at some point – that you wish you’ll be able to know years down the road. It’s not easy to explain how you know that person is going to be even more amazing then than they are now, but you just know.

Epic Stupidity Level Unlocked

I did something so idiotic today that I’m legitimately embarrassed to be writing about this on here. Like I pride myself on not doing stupid shit with my body, but lo and behold, today I unlocked stupidity level: epic.

My period didn’t quite finish up yesterday like I had expected and there was still a teensy bit of bleeding today too. But I had plans set in stone to meet up with the Lawyer tonight, and no way in hell was I missing out on that after weeks of waiting. It was imperative that I think of a way to stop the flow, however minimal, for a couple hours. I’ve tried using those SoftCup things during sex – they’re bullshit. You can definitely feel they’re there.

So in my infinite fucking wisdom I decided to cut up one of those bath sponges and stick a bit up my cooch. I know what you’re thinking. “Narc, you’re a fucking moron.” Oh just you wait, it gets better. So I did a practice run with a bit of sponge. Stuck it up in there, waited a couple hours, pulled it back out. It was fine.

Stuck another piece in there for the evening. Went and had amazing sexy time. There was no trace of blood anywhere so I was congratulating myself on the drive home about how clever I was. Hurr hurr. (Kids, I’m telling you right now, don’t try this at home. It’s fucking DUMB.)

Got home, went to the bathroom, starting digging around for the sponge…

What sponge?

Uh, shit, where’s the fucking sponge??

Pushed out my insides a bit, dug a bit further, and finally I felt the tip of it ALL THE FUCKING WAY IN THE BACK. Like if it were any further up in there it would’ve been in my ovaries, I’m pretty sure. I could not get a hold on it with my fingers for the life of me, and I was reaching in there as far as I could. For a good 15 minutes I was twisting and turning and putting my leg up in weird places and lying down on the bathroom floor, just trying to find a good position to get the damn thing out. Nope. No cigar, no sir.

What to do, what to do?

The logical thing would’ve been to go to the hospital and have them fish it out for me. But it was already almost midnight by this point, I was a little tipsy, obviously had just had a bunch of sex, and for fuck’s sake I did NOT want to explain to some random person that I’d stuck a chunk of sponge up my twat, much less why.

So I started thinking – who can I call that won’t judge (or that I won’t care if judges), that has seen me naked, and that will probably come help me in the middle of the night with my issue? The obvious answer would’ve been my husband, except he’s out of town right now. Awesome for me, not so awesome for my snatch. And then the inevitable realization came to me - I could proooooobably call Mr. Simple and he’d come help me out.

And thusly was Mr. Simple over at my house at 1 am, playing gynecologist with me on the bathroom floor. Honestly I don’t know what I would’ve done without him – he actually managed to get a hold of the thing and pulled it out. I mean it took a good five minutes, but he pulled it right the fuck out. Oh man though, you’d better believe me when I say that part FUCKING HURT. There may have been tears. My poor, wounded love taco…

On the bright side, it was super bloody and gross and Mr. Simple was totally icked out by it, so he hightailed it out of there pretty quickly. Phew. No thank you blowjobs required or whatever shit. On the less bright side, now I kinda owe him one. I might just bake him some brownies or something and be like, “Here you go, thank you so much!” Code for “don’t you fucking ask me for sex, I know you helped me but I don’t want to have sex with you.”

And that was my idiotic adventure of the night. I mean if it hadn’t been for all this, I would’ve written a post on how awesome the Lawyer is, but honestly even my enormous crush on him does not trump how mortified and stupid I felt. Good game, body, good game.

Stubborn

Well the crime scene in my pants seems to have mostly cleared up, so I am excited to be going out again tomorrow. Really though, I wasn’t kidding in that post a few weeks ago when I said that someone should invent a sort of period vaccuum. Remove all contents in a few minutes, minimal mess. All you brilliant people out there, get to work – I’ll tell you right now I would absolutely fuck the person who innovates something like that, and for sure I wouldn’t be the only one. Heck, I might even throw in a home-cooked meal and a nice foot rub.

Anyway, so I’m excited about being able to get laid again tomorrow evening, and I’ve been searching through the dating site for someone who looks like fun. Updating my profile a bit too. That always brings in some goodies, as few and far between as they might be. It of course also brings in commentary on how shallow I am. I got four messages in quick succession after adding in a few sentences that all had something to say about how I should give people a chance even if they don’t have the looks I’m going for.

I already ranted about this a couple weeks ago so I won’t again. But suffice it to say – no. Absolutely not. Never gonna happen. Maybe that makes me stubborn? Silly? Pathetic?

I’m not good at a lot of things. Sex. Pretending to be in love with someone when I couldn’t give two shits. And being stubborn. As long as it’s justified, of course. But then, we’re talking about me here. There isn’t anything I’ve done that I can’t justify, even if it’s just to myself. So it’s not exactly a negative.

There’s no point to this post. I just wanted to share my elation at not having to be bored in the evening anymore. I mean, not that I have been – I got plastered and played the Game of Thrones board game one night this weekend and the other I went out dancing. It’s just more fun to do those things when there’s sex at the end of the night, you know? Especially after dancing. Gosh, it’s my absolute favorite thing to go out dancing with a cute guy and then go back to his place and take a shower together. Fun times. Okay, I’ve decided, I’m so making that happen next week! Yay!

Bodies Suck

One time when I was 14 or 15 years old I had a stomach ache and in my infinite wisdom decided to pop aspirin like candy to help with it. Took 20-something aspirin that night. It’s a wonder I didn’t have a hole in my stomach afterward. I think I did get high off of that amount of aspirin though. I remember laying on the floor of the bathroom feeling super dizzy, thinking about weird shit.

I messed up taking my birth control – forgot to take it a couple days ago so now my favorite auntie has come to visit me again. Even though she last came like two weeks ago. What a cunt, amirite?

I have epic cramps however, probably because it’s happening when it shouldn’t. Wouldn’t mind the 20-odd aspirin right now. Or you know, maybe a few Advil instead.

Was gonna go to a party tonight. A bacon party. All things bacon. Mmm, bacon. But instead I got doubled over in pain earlier, so now I’m sitting in bed, trying to convince myself that I should go get the Advil from downstairs because it’ll make me feel better. Don’t want to have to deal with actually getting out of bed though. Even thinking about leaving the warmth of the covers sucks.

Silly body. I like using you to have fun and feel good, but when you need something from me, I wish you would just go away.

Thoughts

You know how people say “I fucked the shit out of her” or “I want to fuck the shit out of you” or whatever other variation of that phrase? Does that actually happen? Can you fuck someone so hard the shit comes out? I bet it does. I bet no one would admit that it happened to them either.

I met a guy, eyes blue like ice. We’ll call him Mr. Ice, because I’m fucking creative. He’s interesting, kind of fun. Lots of good stories. He has a kid though, and I don’t think he’s looking for just a casual fling. I think he wants the real deal, and you best believe that isn’t going to be with me. Hanging out with him again tonight because I can’t help myself. But I probably shouldn’t after that, should I? We haven’t had the “so what are you looking for” talk yet, but if it goes all right maybe I’ll keep seeing him.

Maybe. Hung out with J for most of the weekend and fuck. I have a crush. Bad. Bad bad. Shoulder angel is saying, “Back off, you really shouldn’t…” Shoulder devil is saying, “Do it, you know you want to!”

But then there’s the Lawyer. Last time I saw him I had a little inkling of something. Been wanting to see him again but he’s been busy and I’ve been distracted. He texted me tonight and all I felt was deep regret for already having plans. More bad.

That’s the downside of repeats, I guess. Can’t help but get attached. Oh I know it’s just biology, just instinct. If I could cut that part out of me, I would in an instant. Because in the occasional moment of clarity that passes by, I still know what I want. It’s not any of that.

I want to do a psychadelic drug before the summer’s up. Acid or something. I hear it’s a life changing experience – best get it over with before I have to focus on school.

I want to meet someone who I can get high and share my crazy ideas with, without judgment. Time before the universe began. Why people are the way they are. Turtles. How can we make better human beings?

I want to dance. In the rain. Naked. All right, maybe in someone’s backyard so I don’t get arrested. But not alone.

I want to go on a road trip. Doesn’t matter to where. I just want to be in a car with someone for hours, talking and laughing and singing to the radio.

I want to write something better. I want to be more imaginative. This blog is great for writing about my life, but the fantasies swirling in my head don’t belong here.

I don’t want to obsess. It takes too much time that I could be putting to good use elsewhere.

That’s all I can think of to say.

Ride

I really like this song. Just wanted to share. Not even so much for the song part, but for the talking parts. Minus the parts about singing, I feel like I could be saying practically the same thing.

“I was in the winter of my life, and the men I met along the road were my only summer.
At night I fell asleep with visions of myself, dancing and laughing and crying with them.
Three years down the line of being on an endless world tour, and my memories of them were the only things that sustained me, and my only real happy times.
I was a singer – not a very popular one,
I once had dreams of becoming a beautiful poet, but upon an unfortunate series of events saw those dreams dashed and divided like a million stars in the night sky that I wished on over and over again, sparkling and broken.
But I didn’t really mind because I knew that it takes getting everything you ever wanted, and then losing it to know what true freedom is.
When the people I used to know found out what I had been doing, how I’d been living, they asked me why – but there’s no use in talking to people who have home.
They have no idea what it’s like to seek safety in other people – for home to be wherever you lay your head.
I was always an unusual girl.
My mother told me I had a chameleon soul, no moral compass pointing due north, no fixed personality; just an inner indecisiveness that was as wide and as wavering as the ocean…
And if I said I didn’t plan for it to turn out this way I’d be lying…
Because I was born to be the other woman.
Who belonged to no one, who belonged to everyone.
Who had nothing, who wanted everything, with a fire for every experience and an obsession for freedom that terrified me to the point that I couldn’t even talk about it, and pushed me to a nomadic point of madness that both dazzled and dizzied me…

Every night I used to pray that I’d find my people, and finally I did on the open road.
We had nothing to lose, nothing to gain, nothing we desired anymore, except to make our lives into a work of art.
Live fast. Die young. Be wild. And have fun.
I believe in the country America used to be.
I believe in the person I want to become.
I believe in the freedom of the open road.
And my motto is the same as ever:
‘I believe in the kindness of strangers. And when I’m at war with myself I ride, I just ride.’

Who are you?
Are you in touch with all of your darkest fantasies?
Have you created a life for yourself where you can experience them?
I have. I am fucking crazy.
But I am free.”