(This seems to be a theme for me lately. Maybe I should just put a disclaimer on my banner)
I’ve set up a Match.com account. It started out as a joke with SalsaM. He is my gay boyfriend (Every woman should have one. I hear Walmart has them on sale right now. $5 mail in rebate with purchase of fuchsia sequin tank top) but he thought I should see what was out there. As in men and women who are more interested in boobs than boy-parts. Hmm, interesting idea. But does that mean I get to whine less? I think I’m being set-up.
Anyhoo, we started a window shopping account and I spent a couple of months checking out the scenery. Then SalsaM decided I was ready for the next step. He makes a lot of decisions for me (like not wearing that color lip gloss ever ever Evar. Again.). Without him I would be a sad and lonely house frow with no social life and ugly lip gloss. Thus, we posted a couple of pictures and made my profile public. I was terrified. What if no one liked me? What if everybody hated me? Maybe I should just go eat worms.
After an hour of much worry and tears and waiting and nail biting and cutting and several bottles of wine (I kid, I kid! I would never bite my nails. Eww!) I started getting responses.
I had my first live phone call the other night.
Meet ManureMan: Originally from one of those places out east where they skip some consonants and use words like “wicked”, he seemed sweet and funny for the first 5 minutes of our conversation. Then things started dipping into the sex-area. It wasn’t sexual innuendo. It wasn’t sexual flirting. It was plainly stated facts.
ManureMan Says:
- I like sex a lot
- I want my girl to be sweet and innocent in public but an all out FuhREAK in bed
- I know that every night can’t be all hot and crazy, but come Saturday night, I wanna be with my girl all night long.
- 5, 10, 20 times.
- I think I might like sex too much
- I don’t think about it all the time, but I can go several times a day every day
- …bent over the bed with pants still around your ankles…
- Bam! Bam! Bam! Bam!
This was our FIRST phone call.
There are so many things wrong here; I don’t feel like I can even address them all. But the one that I just can’t get out of my head:
Bam!? Bam!?
Even if this weren’t our first phone call, Bam!? Bam!?
Don’t fool yourself kiddies. This was not a slow hot baaam, baaam – said in a way that makes your pulse quicken you’re your stomach go tight (And it can be hot. I know this because if Charlize Theron said it to me that way, I would melt). This was loud and fast and reminiscent of a freaking jack-hammer. I think he might have even been clapping his hands to punctuate each Bam.
Seriously, that is NEVER OK!
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