You know what 48 hours in self made solitude will do? Make ya think. After 4 cups of tea laced with a scotch that was given to me by an ex tryna fuck, three ice cold hot pockets, two romps with my vibrator that ended with me being thoroughly disgusted by the porn I was just watching and enjoying mere MOMENTS prior, and two naps, I have made some discoveries. The first discovery is that I am incapable of cooking a hot pocket that isn’t cold in the middle. Doesn’t matter, I ate those cold ham and cheese travesties like the god damn trash monster I am. (which unfortunately gave me VIVID flashbacks to a time I was blackout drunk and ate a hot pocket FRESH OUT OF THE FREEZER at 2am). How I haven’t died of salmonella by now is beyond me.
The second discovery I have made is that I have a really hard time telling people to fuck off. I have given my number out to not one, but three terrible drunk men within the week. One of them sent me a drink from across the bar, and I accepted hoping it was the hot saxophone player with a mysterious briefcase hiding in the corner. (The amount of accessories he had on his person alone intrigued me. Also, I mean, saxophone playing include a lot of simultaneous finger and mouth work…..I can’t be the only one who has put two and two together people.) It turned out to be a 5’3 balding door man wrapped in some sort of headphone wire that I think once belonged to a walkman, who thought it would be cool to come over and “share” the drink he sent me together. For clarification, this man thought that I wanted a drink with a side of his backwash. The second was also a man who sent me a drink, asked me if I even “knew what my tattoo meant” (Its a hindu god and yes I do) and when he found out what my job was said “wow thats a turn on” and touched my lower back (I teach children???) In hindsight I should have immediately dialed “To catch a predator.” The third I don’t even remember giving out until I received a text from someone named “Wallace” at 1am which is a feat in itself.
Here are the top two most common pieces of advice I have gathered from both men and women about how to avoid giving out my phone number:
- Tell them you have a gf/bf. (This never works, the inevitably terrible person spilling their coors light on me will always ask where my S.O is or accuse me of lying)
- Say you have diarrhea (If only I had the balls to do this. or the incontinence)
I think what I need to be better at is just saying no. No thank you. No thanks I don’t want to give you my number so that you can call it in front of me to make sure it’s not fake, and then text me in the morning telling me you thought I seemed “chill” and would like to take me to an Italian place for some “killer calamari.” I can find my own calamari thank you very much.
Once I gave my number to a man at a bar a year after college, he called it in front of me, and when my phone didn’t ring he berated me in front of his friends for giving him a fake number. My phone, ladies and gentleman, was in airplane mode because it was low on battery. Sometimes I hate being bi. Not that women are much better. My ex recently texted me that on her trip she has a “young” girl who has a “burning desire for her” and another who is “deeply in love with her” and keeps asking her to hang out. (hanging out in lesbian speak is mostly discussing serious topics such as the dwindling supply of tuna fish due to over fishing for hours until you form a deep connection and one of you writes a song about the experience). Why she thinks these are things I need to know, I couldn’t tell you. What I can tell you is that I have spent the past 3-5 hours searching through her instagram’s and snap chats trying to find out which girls they are and which flaws I can find to make myself feel better. And I hate myself for it. Fuck her and her fancy scotch.
Here are my resolutions, I’m gonna say no to the things I don’t want. No I don’t want to accept your friend request on my instagram where you will DM me things like “wow keep blessing my timeline with those bikini pics” once a month regardless of whether or not I ever answer. No I don’t want to hear about how good you think you look in your new beach hat that is significantly too big for your lima bean shaped head. No I don’t want to tell you how many guys I have in my “rotation” because god dammit I am 26 now and I don’t have the time or energy to upkeep a once a week “how are you? good, work sucks. lets hang soon, okay see ya soon!” text relationship with more than 1 sexual partner at a time. I don’t have the capabilities to keep my phone charged that often, my vagina gets swollen WAY too easily for that nonsense, and I need a solid 2 day bounce back period and several ice packs in order to be fully prepared to *hopefully* have an orgasm. And NO FUCKING THANKS to those men who follow me down the road asking if I will give them my number/give them a minute of my time while I am holding 4 months worth of laundry in my arms and can think of nothing other than picking the wedgie I got three blocks back.
Hopefully I’ll update this thing with more things to yell into the void sooner than a full calendar year. Wish me luck.
BONUS- Words I’ve had to google to make sure I was using them correctly while writing this post: Incontinence, berated, dwindling