I made the mistake of getting on Tinder last night before bed. By tonight before bed, I had amassed no less than 15 dick pics. I wish I could say it was a difficult task and took lots of effort on my part, but basically a few facebook photos of myself and a few winking kissy face emojis and “BAM!” Dick pics for days.
I’m not sure if men realize once they hit send, their photos become public domain. Although, judging from the pictures I received today, there are either a lot of frauds in the Dayton area or Dayton is where well-endowed men come to live (or die).
I was really just looking for someone to go have tacos with and maybe find a country bar to line dance at this weekend. My expectations were very much exceeded. And yet, I felt dismally disappointed. Not in them. In me. For getting bored so quickly and trying to fill my time. I already know how this works. Tinder is the electronic meat market. I will say though, I did meet one interesting character who has not offered to text me a picture of his dick. He did text me a picture of the castle that he lives in. A legit castle. It doesn’t have a moat or any ghosts but other than that, he says it’s legit. I told him I’ll be the judge of that. I haven’t tricked him into inviting me over with promises of getting to commit murder just yet. I’m holding off till the 72-hour mark.
I think it’s safe to say that I won’t be going out with too many of the dick pic guys despite the temptation. I was told that everybody is a creeper and will drug you with fentanyl. So far, they all want to meet for a drink before sticking it to me with their oversized schlongs (and unsuspecting wives).
I think I will just read the five books I brought and sit by the pool with my very safe fentanyl free water.
Incidentally, no matter how many times I get approached by a married man, it will never cease to amaze me how nonchalant they make it seem that they are looking to cheat on their wives like it’s just another day at the office or another 30 minute or less pizza delivery. I’d rather have the pizza.
Speaking of pizza. That’s my mission this weekend. I already had the amazing tacos (twice). The only other thing I live for is pizza. Even though I did go to the grocery store with the intention of eating healthy and losing 20 pounds while I was here via exercising in the cold pool, yoga, and not eating pizza and tacos. Time will tell.
So back to Tinder. I guess I will be deleting it tomorrow because I do not need a distraction. Nor do I need to meet a man. I’m only here for two weeks. And we all know how quickly I get attached (insert maniacal laughter here).
But if I stayed for a while, I could complete my 365 Days of Dicks book. So many tough decisions to make as an adult.
Another reason I think the penises are fake-ish… So the Tinder pic vs. the “send me a pic of your face” literally look like two different people. I hear men complain about women who post pics of themselves from 10 years and 20 lbs ago and they feel cheated. Guys do the same thing.
I get it you want to show your most flattering pic. but don’t post your glamour shots when you look like America’s most wanted.
This is why I don’t last on dating sites for more than 72 hours. This go-round was less than 24 if I delete when I’m done writing this… which I probably will.
I’ve met a few interesting and smart men. So if I do decide to get out and about, I will have options, but the more I think about my options the more reclusive I want to become. There are dogs here, and chickens, and a pool, and liquor. Why on earth would I need to leave?
Then again, do we ever NEED anything? No, we just WANT stupid things. Or things in general. Either way, I’ll keep you posted if I decide to make any stupid decisions. More than likely I’m just going to meditate the stupidity away. Wish me luck 😉
RouletteWeekend 