48 hours of bullshit then… it’s raining men again

Lesson: Girlllll take a chill pill. Just because there are some real dicks out there doesn’t mean it will always be that way.

Saturday night, 7: 35 p.m.

I deleted Tinder and paused Bumble and added Hinge on Thursday. I think I “aged out” of some searches because normally, as in before my birthday last week, when I swipe right 8 times out of 10 IT’S A MATCH. This week I swiped right 15 times (a lot for me as I’m choosy bitches) and I only had a couple of matches. This is unacceptable.

So Hinge. I keep my searches tight on Hinge and did not put over age 58 in for a couple of reasons. One, I don’t want to date old men and I know this sounds hypocritical but these dudes are ALL lying about their age on dating apps. They will say they are 45 and they are 55-60 if a day. Goddamn them. So fuck that, it’s 58 and below. The other reason is that I don’t want to see Hinge Date #1 on there (I dated him all summer damnit). I don’t care if he’s dating. I just don’t want to see him nor him to see me. I don’t know. Can he see me? Shrug.

The Hinge app was giving me a whole batch of men I had not seen, different from Bumble and Tinder which have the same exact dudes on them. I began messaging with a man who ended up standing me up, Mike H., using his name because he’s a dickface. I also was messaging a young man of 31 before I had my filters set to 40 and above. He had a great bod and said I was on his bucket list. I liked that. I didn’t like a few minutes later when he asked me if “my pussy was tight.” Excuse me? What the literal fuck? I didn’t ask him if he had a small dick or if he lost erections. I said I’d had no complaints. Then he said, “Well if it isn’t tight I will use your asshole and cum in it.” Okay see ya, unmatch, block and all that shiz. It made me madddddd. Then Mike H. stood me up Friday night and that made me maddddddd. I was pretty down about both things and Prince Albert ghosting me this week. Triple assholes. A bit much.

Also it was bothering me that I wanted to hang out with the Liberal Marine again and I can’t. I’m not going to see anyone more than once a week. This will help keep me relationship-free. When he came in for the Tuesday night booty call there was a moment where our eyes met over dinner and darlings it was…. too close for comfort. I like him. A lot.

So a rough week all around. No matches, fuckboy, no-show, and ghosting. But then today it all turned around.

Tantric man asked what I was doing this weekend. He’s at the beach, so annoying. He’s so rich. He then asked to see me soon and I said we have a date set up for November 14. He had to cancel our Halloween date for a flight. He wants to see me before that, says it seems too far away and is asking for next Friday or Sunday.

Then Hinge is busting at the seams and there are men coming out of the woodwork to talk. I have different dates set up for tomorrow (well it’s today I guess as it is 4 a.m. right now) and Wednesday. Sunday man texted and said he’s looking forward to it. Hmmm his nickname will be Ponytail. Wednesday is Pool Man as I saw on his bio he has a pool. It’s winter here so that won’t be accessible. Oh well. I can go to my own goddamn pool at my loft beeshes. I have six matches or so that are actually talking to me. Shocking.

Then last but not least Prince Albert. I was so disappointed in him last weekend. He broke our date last Friday night to help his brother supposedly. Then when I messaged him last Sunday he “had sheets in the laundry” and didn’t want to come in for a booty call.

Jesus. Get a goddamn grip dude.

I wasn’t driving out there because I had a goddamn hangover from a birthday party that left me still nauseous in the afternoon but I was wanting the D and would host. Alas it was not to be. I messaged my two open nights and Prince Albert did not say a fucking word ALL WEEK LONG.

I was talking to my gay BFF about it Monday; he is not a fan of Prince Albert. His advice was to delete his messages so I did. And I felt better.

I said nothing to P.A. all week until Friday night when I texted “Are ya ghosting me?” No response. So I guessed yes.

Then in a drunk weak moment (I’m going to have to delete numbers from now on.) I sent P.A. a picture of my legs in fishnets when I was out and about tonight at Rocky Horror Live. He immediately texted back asking how I was. I responded that I was out having a grand time with friends then I stripped his skin off for not texting this week.

He said that douchebaggery was afoot. I called him a douchebag and said he’d need to make it up to me. He said he would. We shall see.

If there’s more douchebaggery, he’s gone.

I’m not going to pine after anyone.

Photo by Úrsula Madariaga on Pexels.com

One thought on “48 hours of bullshit then… it’s raining men again

  1. “He had a great bod and said I was on his bucket list. I liked that. I didn’t like a few minutes later when he asked me if “my pussy was tight.” Excuse me? What the literal fuck? I didn’t ask him if he had a small dick or if he lost erections.” Yep, spot on. So fucking common. And your questions are totally pertinent to men of all ages, especially the pornfucked under 35s. Soooo many posts on them from me 😦


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